Spring Warren

All is swell, swine-flu-less, no quarantine, no two weeks off

2009-05-03T13:50:00.000-07:00

What is more intense, the relief that there wasn't some dire thing that no one was telling us coming to pass, or the kid's disappointment that the two school-free weeks has dissolved into business as usual?

I think the disappointment.

It was hard to believe that something really bad was going on when nothing bad was going on...though I can usually manage a way. And the fact that the flu case in question never shifted from a probable case to a real case kept angst at bay.

But to be a Junior High student and have two weeks of sleeping in handed to you like a plate of fudge then jerked back before you had a chance to take a bite...that's harsh.

It has been interesting to see the different reactions to the quarantine. I am an err on the side of caution person. It was easy for me to comply with the order. First off I figured no one really needed (wanted?) to see my family badly enough to make them uncomfortable with our possible pestilence level. Of course, I'm more the homebody and it was no skin off my nose to stick close.

Some people were terrified. I think if I had given them a hug on Friday evening they would have slugged me.

Other people saw the quarantine as ridiculous and felt no compunction in breaking it.

Public Health Officers must study the psychology of compliance, panic, and resistance. Come to think of it, I could use it in my day to day life.

H1N1 QUARANTINE. THE Flu has hit California

2009-05-02T22:39:00.000-07:00

The end of the first full day of quarantine. It has been disconcerting. At first we were alerted that students not only were to stay home from school, but that they were not to go out, must stay in the house. That was worrisome. Had there been some further mutation of the flu virus no one was telling us about, were our children safe, could we expect the tyvek suited guys from ET to show up on our doorsteps?

And we needed milk on top of it. One more thing I failed to prepare for- quarantine. If the students had to stay in, what about the parents? Could we ethically go to the grocery store if we promised not to sneeze?

Luckily we were next told that though students would be prohibited from returning from school for two weeks, students could now leave the house, wander around town presumably, but could not congregate with other students. We could take the kids with us to pick up milk, I guessed, as long as the other parents weren't doing the same. Suddenly it didn't seem so scary. And we would have more information soon. The flurry of information we initially got ended on Friday evening, however, and there has been no more over the weekend as if a pandemic holds business hours. The illness that prompted the quarantine is still listed on the school web site as a "probable" case of H1N1. We don't have a hint of who it was who might have swine flu much less how he or she is doing.

There is a disconnect between the idea of contagion so dangerous a quarantine must be instituted, yet no sign of it. Instead, there is a slight giddiness about town, a nervous excitement I suppose, and a feeling of snow days called resulting in an additional two week spring break. So far- this is an abstract calamity, but for having to cancel appointments, a party and a coffee date. Oh, and there's the paranoid headache, maybe a slight sore throat, which is probably nothing. I'm sure we'll be fine.

NORTH DAKOTA!

2008-08-07T22:13:00.000-07:00

I love the Plains. They are so beautiful and I feel good in the wide open. This year, the plains are green, the rains have come. My father claims it is because he is building a house. If he didn't need to worry about materials being soaked, they'd still have drought.

We went to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Along with one of the worst miniature golf courses we had ever seen (buckled carpet, large chipped concrete elk, bear, and buffalo hazards) there were wonderful real animals.

SIGNAGE ON THE ROAD

2008-07-31T08:50:00.000-07:00

One of the interesting things about being on the road is the intersection of what one is supposed to look at, and the obtrusive signage beside it.

What looms larger? Monument Valley or the Monument to that city of momentary desire-Las Vegas?

Then there's the signs that explain things. Tell you what you see at places like Mesa Verde.

Here's a sign-Lewis and Clark were here...and enough vandals to make it necessary to encase the signature under glass.

This sign was our all time favorite. What, exactly were they getting at? Were they cautioning against leaving your personal animal remains, or were they assuring that if you were to camp here you would not be fussed by the animal remains the last camper so rudely left behind?

MORE WYOMING-THE RANCH

2008-07-28T12:30:00.000-07:00

This guy, by the way, sat on the dashboard the entire trip, once I had found him on the sidewalk in San Diego. We thought he was black, but after we came home I peeled him off the dash of the rental car and stuck him in my pocket... my jeans went through the wash...and the lizard came out green. Ew.

Here's one of my favorite places on the ranch. A high meadow on the North side.

Louis looking South, the Missouri Buttes in the background.

The whitetail deer did not appreciate our company.

Sam scratched the outline on his hand on the name rock. The first time he did it, his hand was sooo tiny.

Next stop- North Dakota

THE WOMBAT

2008-07-23T22:12:00.000-07:00

Next stop the ranch where one of the most surprisingly...large...cats I've ever seen resides.
Here's another view, in case you don't believe me. Funny thing, she is not at all aggressive about eating. You don't see her eat much, actually. She's a get up at midnight and eat a box of twinkies (bowl of kibble) kind of cat, I guess.

For Jenn's Mama and Janet Riehl

2008-07-18T10:19:00.000-07:00

Here are the Scottsdale boots, JM. I love the stitching on the toe (which matches my dress) and note; pegged soles!

Janet Riehl (see her blog www.riehlife.com) asked about Ucross. To go on a writer's residency at the Ucross Foundation is like heading to heaven to write. It is beautiful. A working ranch out by the Powder River Breaks with big sky, and not only ranch animals to paint thumbnails of in one's journal (I've got a notebook full of these) but lots of other fauna as well...including fawns, though in Nov, when I went, they're hardly fawns anymore.

Ucross provides their prose writers, poets, filmakers, screenwriters, ceramicists, painters, bookartists, woodworkers (etc) with a beautiful place to sleep (private rooms) a place to work (I had an office downstairs from my bedroom with windows on three sides, bookcase, desk, chairs, couch) and GREAT meals.

One of my favorite parts of the day was just before noon when a sack lunch (and what a sack lunch!) was delivered outside my door. There was no knock, no call because at Ucross everyone is VERY careful to allow the people to work, careful about privacy, noise, needs...
All the artists at Ucross met for dinner. The chef (I hope Ruthie is still there) provided a fantastic meal which was enjoyed amidst lots of laughter and conversations. The artists washed up afterwards and then either went back to their offices to work or had a drink and played pool, watched TV, checked their e-mail, made phone calls. I heartily recommend applying for a residency if you can manage it at all, for on top of the good food, the artists, the digs, I also got a huge amount of work done on Turpentine, the novel that was published a little less than a year ago.

JACKALOPE! FRIES! Douglas, Wyoming.

2008-07-17T20:52:00.000-07:00

After Scottsdale we headed toward Wyoming. When we got to Douglas I told Sam and Louis about "The Koop" where my mom had eaten as a kid when Bert would take her from the ranch into town. They had fries made from one continuous line of potato swiveled off the potato with a gadget and thrown into the deep fryer. After my mom grew up, had us, she took us there as well and we were amazed at the fries.
Louis and Sam and I drove into town, and there is was, THE KOOP. We went in and, alas, they were closing, but they assured me that yes, they still had those continuous fries.

Douglas also still has a giant jackalope.

SCOTTSDALE-I GOT NEW (OLD) BOOTS!

2008-07-14T12:26:00.001-07:00

Here I am at the Mass booksigning in Scottsdale. What you can't see is that I've got on a GREAT pair of boots that I purchased for a ten dollar bid at the Western Writers of America Auction. They match my dress. What a deal.

Also there-my friend Loren Estleman signing his new book, "Gas City"-

-the wonderful Louis Warren (I got to sit by him because our names both start with W!) with his book, "Buffalo Bill's America"- Beside him (and beside me when I was sitting and not taking pictures) Max McCoy, "A Breed Apart." Max does underwater cave exploration in his non-writing time. He seemed so nice and not crazy, however, when talking to him. Go figure.

-the illustrious and prolific Johhny Boggs (Check out "The Hart Brand!")

-and my great pal, Deb Morgan (if you love mysteries and antiques, buy some of her books, "The Majolica Mysteries" available at Amazon) standing next to a smiling Tracy Hutton, wife of author/documentarian Paul Hutton. ("Phil Sheridan and his Army")

San Diego and Art

2008-07-08T21:31:00.000-07:00

In San Diego we visited two wonderful artists, two wonderful friends, Gail Schneider and David Matlin. David is a poet and a novelist. Read "How the Night is Divided" (fiction) or "Vernooykill Creek" (Nonfiction).

Gail is a visual artist of great talent. She had a show at Soka University in Aliso Viejo. This is one of my favorite pieces, cast in concrete and polished.

This is another gorgeous head, glazed in terra sigalata, and raku fired.

I keep a close watch...Johnny's Star

2008-07-06T14:19:00.000-07:00

Before leaving LA, we took a trip to Hollywood to meet friends for lunch. Walking to the restaurant I looked down and saw stars. Somehow I always expect the stars to be...showier, cleaner, maybe with a few actors milling around to give autographs. Instead there they are in a sidewalk. Being stepped on. Gum and grime abound, there are chips out of the sidewalk. Some of the stars are blank as if there is no more talent to fill them. I was glad to see Johnny Cash's star. He is someone who made art early, and continued to make art all the way to the end. I very much like his last album and it gives me hope that there is time to make things no matter the age.

Urban River, LA Style

2008-07-05T17:11:00.000-07:00

The first stop on our trip was LA where we have a friend who is wildly talented and does fascinating things like write books (FLIGHT MAPS by Jenny Price) and give tours of the LA River to people like me who wondered why they had never seen the river if it runs right through LA. Well, because it is hurried elsewhere, run along concrete causeways where it often disappears to nothing, and dumped into the ocean.

Parts of the River, however, look downright idyllic. One would think they were in the country considering the reeds and the ducks, the egrets, the soft rush of water. However if you look up, there's LA screaming along the banks, across the bridges.

Much of the river looks nothing like a river. Concrete pylons and walls enclose the river so that it looks more like run-off than anything.

It is a good place to shoot a movie, however. See Chinatown, Grease.

And, man, some of the tagging is gorgeous.

I'm back and you didn't even know I left

2008-06-29T22:45:00.001-07:00

One of the first things I did when we got home is give the guys haircuts. Not that I minded their long hair, I liked it. It is summertime,however, and they wanted short hair. So, I got out the scissors, the clippers, and cleaned them up, leaving enough hair on the floor to manufacture a cat.

Where were we? Three thousand miles worth of away. Penultimate destination-North Dakota. The new novel (full draft is finished!) required a visit. But I'll get to that later. As I said before, it is summertime, a period of travel, so I might just make this trip last for a month of blogging. First stop-the LA River.

YAY! UCROSS!

2008-04-24T16:47:00.001-07:00

This is one of the really great things about being a writer. Writer's Residencies. I just heard that I get to go to Ucross once again. I began work on Turpentine the last time I was there and it was such a great experience, I've wanted to go back ever since. Ucross provides very nice rooms (bedroom and private study) delicious food prepared by a talented chef, lunch brought to your study every day and left quietly by your door as to not disturb, beautiful views and places to walk, and a number of fellow guests who are prose writers, poets, visual artists, film-makers, to talk to after hours.
You should apply.

roller derby for OBAMA

2008-04-15T08:25:00.000-07:00

I went to see my darling niece chew up the competition at her roller derby bout in Seattle...(she is beautiful) and saw this button on this bag. May Obama be as successful in his bout as the Pink Pistols were in theirs!

edit, clarify, converge, clean-up, understand

2008-04-14T21:35:00.000-07:00

Three chapters when one would do. Two scenes that are point for point alike, but set in different places in the novel. A character protests three times, four times... and all that nodding! I'm at the end of the novel, and more than anything else, I'm trying to clarify, simplify. The shadow on the edge, the out of focus figure, the attempt to see what's there (is it there?) by paring away the extra.

Protest

2008-04-11T09:25:00.000-07:00

Standing in a crowd of people, coming to the line that the authorities say you must not cross. To acquiesce means your shout is not as loud, your message may not be heard. To go forward-risk arrest, injury, perhaps. It is a time in which a larger import, yet one distant, more abstract, is in conflict with the personal self. I don't want to get hurt, arrested. I don't even want to be rude.

Protesting is like voting, but corporeal. Standing in a crowd one easily recognizes you could go home and no one would even notice. Your body among all those bodies is negligible. However, it is the act of letting go of the ego, the insistence that only the recognition of the individual matters, that allows for the great movements of idea, of humanitarianism... and even evil. The great power is the balance between the individual and the crowd; to both think for oneself and be willing to act, vote, protest, arm and arm with many.

Closer, closer, closer...

2008-02-23T17:00:00.000-08:00

I am at the last stages of the book. This is what I keep telling myself. However I seem to be nearing completion in a geometric progression. Once I was a hundred miles away, then fifty, then twenty five....... four inches away, then two, then one, then a half...a sort of sisyphus of the written word.

On a positive note, I did get out and run this morning before the deluge hit. It is raining right now, likely won't stop for days, but on my run I managed to jog some ideas loose and am ready to remedy a few snags in the novel. Sometimes running works that way for me, I solve problems. Sometimes I run and the only thing that goes through my head is how slow I am and wondering if I could just turn around and go home now. Here's to problem solving and that half inch closer to finishing a book.

Surfing Stress Away

2008-02-19T19:13:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine, when stressed at work, surfs a site that has pictures of cute animals. I sometimes window shop at e-bay. Typing in some odd combination such as "vintage metal carrots" and seeing what comes up. But lately I've found another stress reliever-hitting the next blog button on blogger.com. You never get to the same blog twice and the blogs are so happy.

People post photographs of birthday parties or the new car, Grandma's perm or the beach vacation. Today I found a Japanese surfer on the driving range with his Dad and walking his dog, a guy in Ecuador cutting a hole into the ceiling so he can use the attic for a room, and The Vetrans de Catluya who have their futball pictures posted with captions like "Vamos Chavales!" "Nooooooooooo!" "Uuuuuuuuuuuy!" and "Autografos? Venga trae ese papel"

On the Mamalaya site you can see the baby dresses she makes with thai silk, fully lined in chiffon, net slips, lace headbands- while in Indanapolis Ayden is having a dinosaur egg pinata and a dinosaur cake at his birthday.

I read that Wyloozka means cool in Polish, and a Greek woman traveling in Malaysia with a Croat met up with some German guys who told them if you eat Durian and drink alcohol it could kill you. The world is suddenly close and familiar while at the same time fantastic, huge.

And while tool use was once the thing that separated us from other animals, I think a nice human trait is that people from North Africa to Iceland take pictures with friends, arm in arm, smiling for the camera, throwing hang ten, peace signs or bunny ears.

Spring hopes eternal

2008-02-16T20:26:00.000-08:00

I keep saying the next book will be a comedy. Spending so much time in the one I am currently writing- "The Kandee Widows"- set in North Dakota right after the first world war, I feel down. I want an escape. I want to escape.

Maybe the real trouble is that it is almost springtime. Having made it through winter, one wants the world to look different, be different. Warmer, better, a different challenge than those failed before. A challenge suffused with hope. Most emigrants left their countries in the spring hoping for something better. They would settled down in a false hopeful green of that season; believing the grass will always be this high, this lush, the freshets ever flowing, the winds balmy.

We've been in our house for almost nine years now. I have never lived in a single house this long. I wish we could move. Plan a new garden, tear a wall out, paint. It would be a better place where I'd grow sweeter tomatoes, I'd have space to plant more fruit trees. The house would be filled with light. My office would be warm. The geese would have their own pond instead of a bright blue wading pool.

It is warmer this week. Almost seventy degrees yesterday. I should be glad I only visit the North Dakota February in the novel and I get to step out into California sunshine and the days' lengthening light. I think it is the season, however, to be dissatisfied. It is time to travel, to look beyond, to hope for something better and to believe it exists.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2008-02-14T09:09:00.001-08:00

celebration

2008-02-13T13:27:00.000-08:00

I want to send a big YAHOO! out to friends of mine who have been lately smitten with success. I will dance the happy dance for Shawna Yang Ryan who was given the Carp(e) Libris Award for "Locke 1928", John Lescroart whose novel "The Suspect" won Best American Novel of 2007 from the American Author's Association , A.L. Kennedy who received the Costa Book Award for her novel, "Day," and friend Alex Webb, who has his work in this month's National Geographic Magazine. Celebrations abound! Further cause for celebration, that these are excellent people as well as excellent artists-- skill and heart don't always keep such good company. Cheers!

DENTIST

2008-01-17T19:20:00.001-08:00

Reading the informed consent forms at the oral surgeons was the grown-up equivalent to sitting in the pediatrician's waiting room listening to some kid screaming their lungs out, obviously getting the world's most painful shot, the brother of which was waiting for you.

Every line on this form ended in "and/or death." And the middles weren't so good either. "...may hit a nerve causing nerve damage to the lip and cheek which may result in permanent disfigurement...and/or death."

I asked the surgeon how he was going to pull the tooth. The tooth had broken, so what was there to pull? He said that 'pulling a tooth' was actually a misnomer. Really, they do everything but pull. They pry, they push, they crack, they drill, they twist, anything to result in getting that tooth out..(and/or death)

He told me dry socket was a possible complication of tooth extraction, and if I had pain continuing past 2 days, I should come in again. I asked what IS dry socket anyway. It turns out dry socket has nothing to do with dry anything at all. It is a nerve reaction; the nerves become inflamed and cause a great deal of pain. Sometimes one loses the clot that was lodged in the hole the tooth left.

Ten minutes was the time an extraction usually took. I figured all I had to do was count to 600. I could get through practically anything if that's all it took. 600.

When I was all numbed up he took up a wicked looking, not quite miniature, prybar and I took up counting. I only got to 278. But I figured I counted to 278 about four times. "78, 79, 40, 41..."

I left the office a little more than an hour after going in, went home and slept all afternoon. "Pry, crack, twist, clot, socket', never reaching 600.

A NEW YEAR OF WRITING, begun

2008-01-16T17:19:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was pulling together images of the covers that never were for a presentation I will be giving for the OLLI group in Davis. I think that one of the surprisingly difficult things I've encountered having a novel published is trying to keep up a writing schedule while keeping up a publicity schedule as well. I would not want to let either go, but the two pressures feel sometimes like children with sibling rivalry. As soon as I get busy with one, the other demands attention.

Eileen Rendahl (chick-lit writer extraordinaire) and I took a writing weekend to try to catch up on the writing part of things. We went to Richmond. Got a room at the Marriot. Ate at Chevvy's one night, and ate chocolate almonds, cheese, crackers, roasted and heavily salted almonds, Good and Plenty's (that's me, Eileen doesn't share my love of licorice), bread and drank wine the rest of the time. We got a lot done.

I enjoy writing with friends. Shawna Ryan (Locke 1928) and I often write together, more often in writing sprints (see her blog for a wonderful description of a writing day for Shawna in particular and just a great blog generally)

Eileen and I usually write in a marathon. Every time I slow and think I can't type another word, I hear her tapping away and I sigh and keep at it. She says the same goes for her, but I think, in actuality, she is a robot. Nothing stops her.

Turpentine meets Buffalo Bill

2007-12-03T14:52:00.000-08:00

I know, it was billed as Buffalo Bill meets Turpentine, but Turp was the definite underdog and it is my web site. Here is Vicky Panzich of the Next Chapter Bookstore in Woodland, California. (This is a GREAT bookstore. It used to be a hardware store and all of the great hardware ghosts must be roaming around being helpful and interested. It's got a wonderful feel, a gallery running around the upper floor, a coffee shop, a wide and fine array of books, and Vicky and John are friendly and interesting. Go to Main Street and hang around for a while, you'll love it.)

It was a lot of fun to appear with Louis. I didn't realize how nice it was to have a break in between reading passages. While Louis talked (and he can talk) I could sit back, wave at friends, (Louis may have found this very irritating) get a drink of water. I, at one point, took a call on my cell phone. It was Jess and when Louis looked askance at me I said, "It's one of your sons." Next time I'll turn the phone off because the next time it could ring while I am reading.

It was also great to have an expert on the scene. If anyone were to take exception to my depiction of the past, they knew I would put Louis on the case, and no one gave me any trouble at all.

Further, he bought me coffee afterwards and drove me home.

I'm not sure what the perks were for Louis in sharing the podium with me...I didn't buy him coffee or drive. According to the photographs, I did look adoringly at him a few times.

I'll ask him what he liked about the experience. If he can't come up with something good, he's in big trouble. He can usually be counted on to say something sweet and if must be true, because he's the historian.

Old and Gorgeous-it can happen!

2007-11-29T10:36:00.000-08:00

It's Thursday, the busy day at our house. I did get a run in, now I'm off to my office. Work, work, work. So- to cheer all of us up who are facing another long day, Pippin is providing comic relief. You can be old and gorgeous. Check out those fangs!

My Cell Phone HELPS ME WRITE!

2007-11-28T17:18:00.000-08:00

I'm old enough that a cell phone still seems miraculous to me. And...I'm guess I'm young enough that I feel good instead of irritated that I can always be reached. In fact, I am willing to give my cell phone a great deal of credit for the writing I do.

Because I've got it, I can go to my "office" (Starbucks) all day long and focus on the keyboard not having to worry that my family can't get hold of me.

Because I've got it I can call people and ask for words that I just can't think of and can't go on without. (What's that word for...?)

I've made appointments, had interviews, set up schedules...on my cell phone.

I got the call from my agent saying she had sold my book on my cell phone.

And today my writing buddy and I did writing sprints together, though we were a hundred miles apart, because of my cell phone.

My cell phone and my lap top...

Oh, let me tell you how thankful I am for my laptop! (Another entry)

CRAZYRODENTACTIVITY

2007-11-20T10:25:00.000-08:00

I AM THE MAD SQUIRREL OF CORRESPONDENCE!
Yesterday I scuttled, scratched and tapped out 20 e-mails, 8 actual letters, in envelopes, signed, stamped and mailed. Bwahahahahahahah! Today I will be a mere mouse and quietly finish off a few notes that I started yesterday. But I will write. Back to the novel!

To the Breach

2007-11-19T10:42:00.000-08:00

It awaits. The 279 e-mails that have been put into your inbox that require some kind of attention. And then requiring filing into folders. For every hour I spend writing notes and e-mails and letters, I spend twenty thinking about it. I compose in my head. I think about how much nicer it would be to write actual letters. I fret over where I will find actual addresses. I worry if I have one more step, that is finding actual addresses, it will be years before I get anything done. It goes on and on.

This morning I had a dentist appointment at 7:30. I am NOT a morning person and definitely NOT a dentist person. I thought perhaps if I went so early it would make things better, not being fully conscious to worry about my teeth, the pain, and the future pain therein.

It was worse. I was cold. I didn't get breakfast. Riding my bike to the dentist woke me up sufficiently to worry and feel pain both. I got bad news.

However, the bad news didn't take long, and I was home by 8. My computer staring at me. I, having faced the worst already, sat down and charged through correspondence. At least a quarter of it. And the day is still young.

Thursday, the day after the reading, a day of eating, and hanging around the airport

2007-11-16T15:58:00.000-08:00

Thursday morning I woke and had breakfast with Gingy and Chris and then Gingy and I went to Acequia books, a great used bookstore in Albuquerque run by Gary, a true bibliophile, and Marilyn Stablien a fantastic writer and artist. (Vermin, The Census Taker, a memoir of her travels in India) I bought books, though I had no room in my luggage and the volumes made dognapping Ben a definite impossibility.

Sarah Paine, Graduate Student, writer, assistant extraordinaire, took me to the airport after I had eaten yet another serving of green chile. (Green Chile enchiladas, green chile stew, green chiles on roated chicken sandwich, green chile quesadilla, yes, all in only two days. Why did I gain 2 pounds while I was gone? I didn't even think that was possible.)

At the airport I found that my flight's departure time had been changed from four pm to seven thirty pm. I now had four and a half hours to hang around. Perhaps because of this the airline put a code on my ticket. SSS. When I gave my boarding pass to the guy at security he announced that my airline had chosen me for special inspection. Yahoo.

I stood at the sign with all the s's and waited and waited. I finally yoo-hoo-ed and the security team at the regular line glared at me, snapped to wait. Finally, two young men escorted me to the special machine that would discern if I were carrying explosives in the lining of my bag or not.

Apparently people with heart conditions often get a false positive and have to go through additional interrogation, a process that seems rather ironically dangerous and not a little heartless. The guy told me people do get a little bent out of shape when chosen for special inspection, but he merely crooks a finger and they quiet down real quick when the cops swoop down. I behaved myself.

I ate a quesadilla here. TEN tv sets. Nine were on the Dallas San Antonio basketball game.

Hours and hours, and hours later we were over LA.

in our very small plane.

I finished the Thursday NYT crossword puzzle and then we landed. Hard. It was like the pilot thought the ground was ten feet farther down than it really was. Louis was waiting for me outside of baggage. Ah, home.

Flying to Albuquerque and the reading at BookWorks, Wednesday, November 14th

2007-11-16T15:34:00.000-08:00

The vacuum bag at work. This is my pemmican clothing; A long blazer, pair of pants, tights, pajamas, all squashed into a notebook sized space.

The desert is sooo beautiful. New Mexico is gorgeous.

The BookWorks bookstore patrons. I took this picture noting that if we were in a murder mystery I'd be the victim, someone in the audience not wanting to have it known he/she had been there. Thank God I survived.

Preparing to read, enthroned in the large chair, seemingly puzzling over something at the back of the book.

One of the best things about readings is afterwards, having conversations with people I wouldn't usually get to talk to.

Gingy Scharff, aka Virginia Swift. She not only writes REAL history, but also has penned a fantastic mystery series, The Mustang Sally books, which are set in Laramie, Wyoming.

The bookstore was fantastic, but the owners, Nancy (center) and Mike Rutland were even better. Real book lovers, charming, and very hospitable.

Gingy in her garden. I only wish I had gotten a picture of her dog Ben as well. I would have slipped him into my luggage if I hadn't bought so many books.

Ready for Albuquerque

2007-11-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

As my lovely 94 year old neighbor says, "I have been thinking of the hereafter quite a bit today." (I walk into a room and ask myself WHAT am I here after?)
There's a lot of great things about travelling. But truth be told, it's expensive and not just in a dollar amount. It costs me in focus. I told myself that I would make the invitation for the Buffalo Bill meets Turpentine Reading (2pm on December 2 at THE NEXT CHAPTER in Woodland!), I would pack, go over my reading, then spend half the day writing at my office, catch up on e-mail and do a blog entry. Ummm. Got the invite done, I think.

Well, there is something else to think about other than work, and that's eating. And though I am going to New Mexico for a reading, and I do hope it goes well, New Mexico is one of my favorite places to fill up. I can't wait to wrap my tongue around some sopapillas. I want green chile stew and flat enchiladas, I want rellenos, I want chile, chile, chile. The trouble is, I am only going to be in Albuquerque for about 36 hours.

Sigh, I will do the best I can.

2007-11-12T16:47:00.001-08:00

Ol' bat ears, the barfalo herself, has a following. She is big in Germany. (Her picture showed up on a German site!) Well, she's big here, too...but we're talking BIG,sis. In any case, I am not one to stand in the way of feline attraction. Here she is again, world. And if anyone wants her, just let me know. She threw up on my feet last night. Other than that, she's a GREAT cat. Really, let me know.

I'm back to the new project. Back to my office where they brew my coffee to order. The only trouble is, sometimes when I walk through those double swinging doors someone is sitting in my seat! I give the person the evil eye, and yet they do not move. I complain at the counter, but apparently other people are ALLOWED to sit wherever they want in Starbucks when I'm not there, AND when I am. Very sad. I did manage to get some work done. Thank you Jill for finding me a place to perch. As for all those people who go to my office only to drink coffee- that's OK, I guess, but how about scooting over?

I wonder if I could call ahead and make a reservation?

Salt and sugar

2007-11-10T13:48:00.000-08:00

The old saw-lemons and lemonade. I sure hope I am working toward lemonade...Back to work on the new book, I've been at Starbucks every day this week. I'll be back there today, hiding out from the internet, the pantry, geese, cats, and telephone in order to find that elusive lemonade track.

The good news-that's my lemon tree in the picture above. It is FILLED with lemons for the first time in the 8 years we've been here. Sam is going to make jars of preserved lemons, which I love. Even more than lemonade.

When life hands you lemons, soak them in salt and serve them with pasta.

Off to Starbucks to brine a novel.

links

2007-11-02T11:05:00.001-07:00

I've received several queries about why I've stopped blogging. I haven't STOPPED, I'm just vacationing for a bit because I've felt like...well, Pippin demonstrates above. I am feeling a little more myself now. I'm back on track running and biking. All the clothes are washed. I am imbedded in the books that I picked up on tour, and they are wonderful, and I have even managed to be taught by my webmaster extraordinaire, Sally, how to link. Really, me. I can do it. Say I wanted to talk about The Outlander, a book written by Gil Adamson. I could then invite you to...
Check out this interview
And you would be whisked magically to it! WOW!

Let's try it again. If you haven't read Locke 1928 yet, you really should. Find out more about the book and the author at..
Stone, Ink Brush and Paper, Shawna's website

Ta Da!.

Now that I can do this, I will go back and link to all those people on the tour, so scroll back, find out more about authors of the west and authors from that sister nation of ours, Canada.

Billings to home

2007-10-23T11:58:00.000-07:00

Yet another large decorated animal in Billings, this one I found interesting for the ungulate painted on ungulate action. Bighorn/Angus/sheep. A sort of inverted hierarchy?

The panel: THE NOVEL QUESTION went really well with a good turnout, good readings and good questions afterward. Here you see Tom Watson (Montana 1949) and Russell Rowland The Watershed Years in back.

Alyson Hagy

and our host and moderator, the charming Corby Skinner.

This is Craig Johnson, mystery writer, former law enforcement official, gallant.

Sunday morning Cherie Newman took me to the airport. As has been the way, clouds rushed in as I was about to board the plane.

I always peer in the window, if I can, afraid to catch the pilot swilling vodka, hoping, instead, to see a stalwart, sober person with exceedingly quick reflexes and keen eyesight. How I would discern this I'm not sure. Perhaps he would be siezing flies from their flights with chopsticks. This guy had his head down. I was hoping he was reading something flight-related and not nodding off. He managed to get us to Salt Lake-though the flight was kind of wobbly. Then Salt Lake to home.

It was great to be home. Louis picked me up at the airport, it was WARM! (Today it is 85) Great to see him, the kids, cats, creatures, the house. I was gone for twelve days. I had a wonderful time, but boy, there's no place like home (click, click)

And Turpentine? I bent it, clipped it, wrote notes in it, stuck paper in it, spilled beer on it twice...you can see on the top pages that I worked it hard. However....

The front looks brand new. The cover, the flaps held up like nobody's business. Grove sure did do a great job.

And how did I hold up? Not 24 hours in, some virus that snuck onto the lining of my nose on the plane to Billings, I suppose, struck me down. I collapsed on the couch to watch 30Rock. Went to the doctor and he said the trouble swallowing wasn't strep, but the muscles in my neck. I sprained my throat? I guess I'll be quiet now.

Heading for Billings

2007-10-20T12:33:00.001-07:00

The weather only got worse as we headed west from Missoula to Salt lake, yet it held off snowing, remaining chilly, wet and grey.

This guy didn't mind, perpetually stuffed and dry in his glass case. It is such a western practice, not only to practice taxidermy, but to encase it and place it in a public place. We visit an emperor penguin every year at Little America, just before exiting (or just after entering) Wyoming.

Large decorated animals are now ubiquitous in every city from coast to coast. This one is in the Billings airport. There are also herds of painted bighorn rams scattered throughout Billings proper. I believe you can make one out, just beyond the mosaic horse.

My new lodgings. Well, perhaps not new, exactly.

An interesting rope ballustrade along the stairs leading to...

My room. I'm not sure what the condition of the hotel says about my standing among the Great Plains Writers. I imagined the greats staying in places with clean carpets while I thought it wise to keep my shoes on. When I went to the dinner on Friday night, however, everyone I met was incredibly nice. I had excellent conversations with Cherie Newman (from Missoula public radio) Tom and Jennifer, Corby Skinner, Russell Rowland and Swain Wolfe. Craig Johnson, author of Wyoming based mysteries came to my rescue as I arrived in Billings with nothing but my luggage, a hotel address and a sense that I was to appear on a panel on Saturday. He shepherded me to the MSU event and gave me some basic information about what was what and where. THANK YOU CRAIG!

After the awards dinner we went to Corby Skinner's "castle" and enjoyed more conversation and wine. Dang, I just remembered I left my whiskey glass at the dinner! (Actually, it was a very small beer glass, but doesn't a generous whiskey sound better?) Perhaps Corby can provide me with another.

The good thing about the Dude Rancher is that it is right next door to the library, and while I couldn't get anything but a fluctuating bead on the internet in my room, I got to sit at the library, (with a beautiful 1960's spiral staircase) and work on my blog.

I went looking for my venue in preparation for this afternoon. I didn't have a list of events and so asked the woman at the front desk who ripped a piece out of the newspaper and motioned me toward the street. I, predictably, went the wrong direction. I kept walking though, powered by pure hope that the building ahead was the UniversityIII. It LOOKED University-like. It was the Billings clinic.

I turned myself around, walked all the way back, got directions from the library, found the place, and found Lou Taubert's ranch outfitters. At Crest Hill Elementary School I had a crush on Robert Taubert (great rhyming name) He is Lou's son. I put my name in for a drawing. The winner (chosen this afternoon) gets a pair of 400.00 boots!

I had breakfast for lunch here. The place specializes in soups and cheese sandwiches. I bypassed the western special; velveeta on white bread. Welcome to the world of my childhood. I had chipotle jack on multi-grain with tomatoes, avocado and tomato pesto. Some things have changed.

Thursday, October 18th. Happy Birthday, Summer!

2007-10-18T18:41:00.001-07:00

By the University you can see Grizzly tracks impressed into the sidewalk. I noticed this because I was looking downward, steaming ahead, trying to get to the shipping depot by Missoula Albertsons in order to mail home some of the books that I had told myself I wouldn't buy, and my dirty clothes. I decided to do this because leaving Calgary I was in a sweat over the possibility that the customs/security people would decide to open my luggage and because it was sooooo full, I'd never get it closed again. Picture me sitting on my luggage and trying to get it zipped. It takes me back to my teens, department store dressing rooms and jeans. The memory is not good. I'd rather not worry over it.

The weather turned. Skies darkening, the wind picking up, yellow leaves alight in the air. I hope it doesn't get bad, I have to fly in the morning.

I spent the afternoon in the Missoula library. I love libraries, and this one was a good one. I wrote a little on Kandee Widows, caught up on e-mail, and people-watched.

Upon my return to the hotel I had a message from the wonderful Elizabeth at Grove. She's great, Grove's great. It makes a big difference to me to have a phone call, an e-mail message...Away doesn't seem so adrift.

I attempted to utilize the stair stepper at the Doubletree fitness center, but the machine was smarter than I and I gave up after several minutes of balancing on one foot until the step went down, then trying the next. It felt ridiculous and looked stupid, nothing at all like the spirited workout that I had seen other people engaging in. I went to the bicycles. I ride my REAL bike at an average of 17-18 mph, while talking with my girlfriends. This one had me pegged at 7mph. And it was harder, and more boring, and I managed to last 20 minutes. By then I was sweaty, had burned 20 calories and was ready to go consume 2,000.

At the dining room I asked for a window by the river and after a Balvenie, dreamily wrote about the heron and the kayakers, the ducks and the joggers rushing by. It was a good dinner of prosciutto, whiskey and cake.

Now all that is left is packing... (AM I PACKING AGAIN?!!!)
and as soon as Louis gets home he is going to give me my sister's phone number off my rolo and I will call and sing to her even though it is not pleasant to hear, it must be pleasant for her to think how much better her voice is than mine.

Radio Interview at KUFM-The Write Question

2007-10-17T10:25:00.000-07:00

I got up today WAYYYYY too early, the clock radio playing country western music that was actually pretty good-but then the knocking started. I had ordered room service to be delivered at eight and suddenly my toast was ready. I threw on my long black skirt to look decent, but apparently only looked funny with it on with a t-shirt and bed head, because the woman delivering the breakfast laughed. And I still gave her a tip.

I managed to get lost in the three blocks I needed to walk to the University, but, luckily two jiffy lube guys were standing on the corner having a conversation while half-heartedly rocking jiffy lube signs back and forth at the commuters. They pointed me back the way I came and showed me where I was supposed to turn. The campus was beautiful, on the other side of the river.

An interesting sculpture made with found metal.

More buffalo!

I located the correct building, walked through the maze of offices and studios and met

Beth the engineer and

Cherie Newman, the program host of THE WRITE QUESTION. Cherie and Beth were charming, Cherie a great host, so it was a entertaining (for me, at least) half hour. Cherie will edit the interview so that it sounds as if I am alone, talking on the radio. Her questions will not be aired, I was instructed to answer accordingly. She adds music and sounds as well, so it will be interesting to hear how it turns out.

Afterward I returned to the room then with map in hand explored downtown Missoula a bit, locating the Fact and Fiction Bookstore. (Great bookstore!) I met Barbara Theroux and she gave me a Missoula paper with a good review of Turpentine in it-full color picture of the cover. I took it to a coffee shop where I happily read it munching on a tempeh and tomato sandwich. I broke my moratorium on new clothes purchases. It was just too cold not to have pajama bottoms. I went the cheap route and got sweat pants.

As my turtlenecks were still dripping water back at the hotel- (but now that they are hanging on the airduct, they are approaching merely damp), and all I had was a turtleneck shell, which means it looks like it keeps you warm but it doesn't really, I found a scrunchable jacket on BIG sale, I got it too.

Back at the room, I put my cards for my talk into order, wrote out a new introduction (this changes every time I read, as do the segues) and took a nap with Ellen on in the background.
I woke up, groggy. Groggy quickly shifting to nervousness. I got dressed, looked over my notes, and went downstairs and had a wee dram of Balvenie while re-reading passages in the book, walked to the bookstore.

This is Barbara Theroux who knows writers and the writing world like nobody's business. She was smart and funny and made me feel welcome. There weren't a huge number of people in attendance,it was a chilly night, one of the first really autumny-winter-threatening Montana evenings, so not only was I relieved that anyone came out instead of hunkering down at home, but I was thankful they were such nice people that did. I had a very good time. By the end of the reading, questions, chatting afterward, I knew people's names, I saw a sister of a friend of mine that I hadn't seen since we were kids and it seemed it wasn't only me that had a good time, or they were very good actors, and polite, too. Plus, the second editions were at the shop. There must be some selling?

I went to a Mexican restaurant after. A watery tostado nortena, a good beer with lime, and mariachi music was pretty good. Tomorrow I can sleep in.

From Banff to Calgary to Seattle to Missoula.

2007-10-16T23:46:00.000-07:00

Alison (A.L.) Kennedy and Stuart Ross at breakfast-

-deep in conversation just before checking out and getting on the 9:15 shuttle.

A welcome glass of Calgary microbrew moments previous-

-to my spilling it all over the tray table, my coat, my book, my carry-on. They didn't give me another one either.

A very grey Seattle that I watched a long time as my flight to Missoula was delayed 4 times.

The third time I went to a shop in the airport called Butter and had a manicure.

GIRLY!

My hotel room where there was another-

SWEET DREAMS PILLOW!

The last work of the day was washing My carry-on and laundry in the Doubletree bathtub.

Monday, getting ready to go.

2007-10-16T23:30:00.001-07:00

Breakfast at the Vista Lounge with Susan Juby

A visit to the Lougheed Building to see art.

Some work, some harmonica play.

Four O'Clock-Writers at work, talking work, how to make a living, ways of it and around it-Summit Salon-a few of the participants

The Banff Springs Hotel to where a group of us took a taxi and...

...had a few drinks.

Closing WordFest Party, The Club, Sunday Night

2007-10-14T23:07:00.000-07:00

It was a celebratory evening, open bar and open mike. Niels Hav (We Are Here or Grundstof) spoke for all- thanking Anne Green, Festival Director, and all the staff and volunteers who made the WordFest such a great event. To the right, Daniel Sada (Porque parece mentira, la verdad nunca se sabe) and Minerva Margarita Villareal (Perdida) two of Mexico's most influential writers.

Ian and Stuart hammered out an Exquisite Corpse-esque ode-

and performed it to the delight of all.

Anne Greene and Priscilla Uppal

Me and Priscila Uppal

Michelle Noel (Hush! Hush!) and myself

Gil Adamsonand Niels Hav

Gil and poet Sina Queyras (Teeth Marks, Slip)

Fantastic night, sad farewells, but tomorrow is another day to look at mountains, live the good Banff life, and try to fit the new books PLUS my old (getting a little drabby) clothes into my luggage for the trip to Missoula on Tuesday.

Sunday in Banff

2007-10-14T17:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Gil Adamson, A.L. Kennedy and I walked to Banff in the dark. Alison Kennedy engaging in heroics time and again, first by agreeing to go to Banff in the pitch dark, second by escorting a drunken disgruntled candy afficianado out of the candy shop (where they sold the adorable candies shown....not turtles, but bear claws...get it?) and third by hanging out until it was four in the morning Glasgow time and not going toes up half-way back from town. Gil showed us the way through cemeteries, dark alleys and scarily awful tourist dives.

Next morning-lunch for breakfast again. On the way to brunch-a red and white suited checkerboard man playing red and white chess with anyone who would take him on in a Banff performance art piece.

At brunch:
The brilliant poet/fiction writer Priscila Uppal (Ontological Necessities) who also knows how to dive, fence, ice skate...(and on!) with Australian hip hop artist Morganics

Gil Adamson ( "The Outlander"! ) and Pacific Northwest Gothic novelsist Gail Anderson-Dargatz (A Recipe for Bees and The Cure for Death By Lighting)

Me and Stuart Ross who actually managed to work on his new edgy novel after eating this afternoon and before drinking tonight!

Heading toward Banff, on foot, this time in daylight, to admire the Bow River.

Gil Adamsonin front of yet another (2) bison

Canada has dollar stores too!

The Canadian Equivilent of Starbucks, THE SECOND CUP.

Where they have the uber-delicious (something....what is the name...check back later!) bar.

Saturday- Oh, what a beautiful morning

2007-10-13T12:14:00.001-07:00

I slept in this morning. Late enough that I missed breakfast. Instead had an early lunch. Stepping out of the residence hall I got my first look of daylight Banff and it is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. I stood on the steps of the residence hall and just drank in the view.

Then I headed into the Sally Borden Centre to find food.

The Vista Lounge is well-named. I took a table at the window so that when I looked East I saw the mountains.

Looking down I could see the swimming pool through the glass ceiling.

The dining area, tables marked for the various groups utilizing the Centre.

I was in the ART section, but I thought it might be interesting to sit here. I contemplated carrying my plate over but worried I'd be caught out. Besides, I had the best seat in the house already.

Coffee, coffee, coffee, newspaper, view, and, could it get any better? -pastries!

I will spend several hours writing today, then plan on a late swim in the fab pool, meeting Stuart for dinner (Gil maybe, if she's caught up with us and not busy) and then a couple of readings tonight. I will get out and wander around, but don't really have good hiking gear for anything serious. I read in the Banff Centre guide to be careful of wildlife...the usual things like not approaching a bear, or feeding a wolf.

I did appreciate the SIGNS OF ELK AGGRESSION they included: -head held high. -teeth exposed. -elk looking directly at you with whites of eyes showing.

I could cross out ELK and write in my name and it would still be right, it occurred to me...

Arriving in Banff

2007-10-13T00:53:00.000-07:00

We arrived at Banff at dusk, this being the closest, unfuzziest picture i could manage of the spectacular scenery with the waning light through the bus window.

Upon arrival we checked in and got our meal ticket. Meal card, really. We flash this at the dining hall and our meals are taken care of. We were too late to utilize it tonight and so went to the pub and had honey lagers and pub food. Author Susan Juby and I pulled faces, but the photos on the ID were so grainy (or perhaps in my case, I so often pull that face) they didn't seem sooo bad.

Dropped off our luggage in our rooms. A little more dorm style than the pillow lofted luxury of the Hyatt, yet very nice. Long desk made for writing. (I will write tomorrow)

Finally a reading by three authors (RAY ROBERTSON (pictured in the hat), JOEL HYNES, MORGANIS) who were billed as Canada's hottest young writers. We drove downtown with them to the Bison Mountain Bistro, and back to the Banff Centre afterward. Nothing like driving around with Canada's hottest young writers to make someone feel like the States' most middle-aged novelist.

A Day in Calgary

2007-10-12T23:50:00.000-07:00

Thursday night I went to a slam poetry/hip-hop/surrealist play/poetry reading event. All of the readers/actors were accompanied by a band which flipped me into reveries about how we process the sounds of music and the sounds of language and how the two function together. Why don't more poets, prose writers read with accomplaniment?

Friday morning I hung out at the hospitality suite for a short time. On each floor's lobby are these great phones. I had no reason to use one, so I picked up the receiver and pretended, no one looking.

This is the roof of the Hyatt's lower wing.

Poet/Fiction Writer Stuart Ross, author of "I Cut My Finger" gamely poses beside the Hyatt buffalo. (I will be linking these folks to their websites when I finish my tutorial so check back in!)

There is a wonderful indie bookstore in Calgary, Pages on Kensington, and Gil Adamson and I "signed stock" there. I am amazed when I see my book in bookstores and to find it in a Canadian bookstore is really incredible. Gil and I went upstairs to the Prairie Ink coffee shop and talked agents until it was time for me to head back to the hotel, get my luggage and catch the shuttle to Banff. In the elevator I saw Lisa Moore (Alligator) a fellow Black Cat author and introduced myself. She looked a little off-put but shook my hand and then went back to her business with her associates.

At the hospitality suite people were collecting in groups. Misunderstanding the call to leave, I trailed after a group, including poet Dennis Lee, the incredible Scottish writer A.L. Kennedy, and Lisa Moore down sixteen floors, across the lobby until I wondered why I was the only one with luggage. They were heading off to perform at an Anansi Press 50th Anniversary reading, and to go to the Anansi press party afterward. Not a little embarassing. Later thinking about it I cringed further. I had sent Lisa a short note before I left in what I thought was a breezy tone (we both have one word titles and Elizabeth for a publicist!) But thinking about now, it it was probably not breezy but idiotic and may have made her think I was a wierd stalker person especially with me bumping along behind them with my rolling suitcase...

The Panel

2007-10-11T18:56:00.001-07:00

I got up and found a coffee shop this morning, a cute place called The Second Cup, and sat, drank coffee, ate a scone and made notes on my fifteen minute talk. When it was time I headed back to the hotel and saw this tent. I wondered if it was erected specifically for the Word Fest Authors in case....no one came to their readings....no one bought their books...someone threw tomatoes.

I pushed those thoughts away and stared at distant China town. Perhaps I could make my way over there if I survived the panel.

No need to worry. It was wonderful to share the room with Aritha van Herk, Tony Rees (Arc of the Medicine Line), and Gil Adamson (The Outlander.) Their readings were wonderful and Aritha was the perfect moderator, smart, funny, warm. After the panel we signed books until the books were gone, we waited for more books to be delivered and signed a few more. I, after hearing Tony and Gil speak and Aritha speak, am eager to read their work. I bought books, got them signed, and will worry about the luggage issue later.

We went to lunch at the Joyce Pub. There you see writer woodworker, canoe-maker extraordinaire, David Finch, with the indominable Gil Adamnson and publishers rep/bon vivant Heather Parsons. Those are my glasses, my notebook, and my local brew, Grassopper Ale, with a lemon. David told me it was a girl-drink but I think it must be the addition of the lemon that makes it girly as I saw pretty burly guys quaffing the insect-labelled beer.

Gil and I went to the Glenbow Museum and spent a couple of hours walking around and talking. We enjoyed Arithas wonderful Mavericks show, sat in a 1900's train, a 1950's drugstore, and were awed by a stone sculpture of the fasting Buddha.

Getting to Calgary Wednesday, Oct 10

2007-10-11T18:30:00.000-07:00

The pilot's name on the flight from Sacramento to SanFrancisco was Mallard. I thought that was a good sign, and certainly we arrived in San Francisco in good time and in one piece. There, I easily found my connection and with time to spare checked out the airport bookstore and FOUND MY BOOK! There were two and they were on a bookshelf toward the back so I gave them a ride to the limelight, stuck a couple of Turpentine bookmarks in them and wished them good flight.

I returned to my gate, and everyone was gone! Two people were lined up at the door and they were the last passengers boarding. Phew. That would have been difficult to miss my flight because I was guerilla re-shelving.

On the flight the man seated directly ahead of me wore a t-shirt that said Casper core drilling. While we were waiting to get off the plane in Calgary I spoke to him. "I see Casper and drilling and I think Wyoming." He looked at me, puzzled. Casper core drilling is in San Diego, not Casper Wyoming. Whoops. I asked if the group of guys, he was with were headed out hunting and then wished them to have a good time, but not luck shooting the geese and ducks they were after. When they asked, I said I was in Calgary for the Word Fest, they were intrigued I was an author, and once again, I took out the bookmarks. I handed them out to the hunters and to the 2 rows beside and behind me. And then I stepped off the plane and into Calgary.

Writer and woodworker David Finch drove me and writers Michelle Noel and Dennis Lee through Calgary, pointing out the two rivers that run through the city, the historic architecture, the recreated fort, and the Calgary Tower that resembles Seattle's. Calgary, I found, also has some of the most beautiful man hole covers I've ever seen.

We checked in to the Hyatt and I felt right at home with the buffalo in the front lobby. Upstairs I was given a per diem and asked to count the money. When I pointed out there was no money in there but some very pretty paper, the man laughed and said it was worth more than US cash. Very true. Conference Bag in hand along with money more valuable than US currency, I went to my room, changed clothes and rushed out to the reception at the tower. I met Tony Rees, Aritha van Herk and Gil Adamson, who were going to appear on the panel with me the next day. There followed a reading and there I met Michelle Noel again. After the reading Michelle and I went to dinner. He, an expert chef as well as writer, promised to send me his recipe for Beaver.

Twas the night before...Calgary

2007-10-09T19:37:00.000-07:00

MONEY! We neglected to exchange our Canadian currency for US dollars after a trip we took to Canada YEARS ago. YEARS. So long ago, I hope the tender is viable. I have meant (again, for years) to take the money to the bank but...I must have somehow known that I was going to Canada and that my dollars were only going to plummet in value over the next 8 years and I should keep the Canadian cash and use it to good effect in 2007.

I am packed. My new carryon has ten days worth of clothes stuffed into it. My over the shoulder bag is waiting for my computer and then all will be ready for my flight. I timed all of the passages that I might be called upon to read for one reason or another, and so know to the half minute how long each will last. A good rule of tongue is that one page takes about 2 minutes to read aloud. I made my cards with the transitions penciled in and paperclipped them in place inside the book. I have phone numbers, e-addresses, itineraries, and a charged cell phone.

Elizabeth told me it was snowing in Banff today, and I went to my favorite used clothing shop with my favorite fashion consultant and got a long black wool coat (among other finds) to keep me to warm. I ferreted out my black gloves from deep within the winter-wear bag hanging in the closet, and stuck them in my bag. I picked shoes with a tread.

And finally, I do have my camera and this leg of the trip I WILL TAKE PHOTOS OF THE EVENT, not lamely taking after thought photos when the party's over. Airport-8a.m. I hate waking up early.

Calgary Waiting

2007-10-08T17:22:00.001-07:00

You must have a passport to fly into Canada now. Canada? Canada is our sister, our brother country, on our mother continent. It's like having to show your driver's license to get into your aunt's foyer! Homeland security, I suspect, making home smaller and smaller.

I am eager to see Calgary and Banff. I have been told these places are among the most beautiful in the world, so I have carefully placed my passport in my file, ready to show at the airport.

Today I talked with a reporter at the Enterprise. We had a pleasant hour to talk. It did occur to me as we happily chit-chatted that some of the things I was saying were kind of...silly, or perhaps might not sound too great taken out of context...such as my father not having read my book. That sounds bad. But, that's my Dad. He might read it sometime, might not.

It will be interesting to see what comes of the interview. The reporter was very nice, smart, and charming. I'm sure it will be just fine. Absolutely.

I still have Dayquil from the last trip, carmex, tylenol, so at least I don't have to go shopping. My bag is almost all packed. I have not yet made my cards for transitions for the talks, however. Tonight, tonight. I picked up extra postcards and Kinkos printed a bunch of them on paper, not cardstock, and left off the website from the bottom on a third. This, even after I hung around to preview a sample. I'll deal with it when I get back...or just chalk it up to the way things work out. A good thing that came of waiting around for Kinkos is seeing a friend at Borders. (Yes, I was checking to see if they had my book.) She is a new teacher and it was good to see her and then she bought a copy of Turpentine. I joked that I should just hang around and direct people to my place on the bookstore shelves.

The other thing I managed to do while waiting-buy another pair of glasses in case I should somehow (me?) misplace my other pair. Does this mean I'm going to have a vision failure as when I bought Dayquil I caught a cold? Of course not.

A day off.

2007-10-04T16:04:00.000-07:00

Nothing much. I'm tired. I had coffee with a friend, was really forgetful, went to my favorite used clothing shop and bought a pair of pants and a sweater. I wrote a few e-mails, arranged to meet the Enterprise reporter on Monday, played phone tag with the Modesto Bee. I'm going to clean the house. Really. Really clean, too. Except that I'm tired. Maybe I'll finish Terri's book instead.

Radio 2-Hope for the miners

2007-10-03T21:05:00.000-07:00

This is the ARC of Turpentine.
Sam, months ago on the way to Iceland, put the book on the shelves of an airport bookstore and took the picture. I include the photo today because Louis, flying to Oklahoma City called me from the Denver airport and said my book was on the shelves in the bookstore there. Coincidence, or does Sam have powers to divine the future or to make bookstores stock my book?

I was in good spirits later in the afternoon when I went to the KDVS radio station in Lower Freeborn Hall to be on the Doctor Andy Poetry and Technology show. I was ready to read part of the passage in Turpentine that dealt with Ned being in the coal mine and almost dying from white damp. However, while sitting in the waiting area I listened to a snippet of a report from South Africa where 3,000 miners were trapped in a gold mine.

Andy walked into the station, and I told him I had been going to do a reading concerning mining... he asked if I'd heard the news. I nodded and said I'd read a different section under the circumstances. There was only a minute or so until the show aired. I still had the sheet of paper from Jeffrey Callison's show in my bag, however, and was able to read from that section (Ned skinning a buffalo) instead. The interview went well, and it was nice to see Andy Jones again (we once had offices in the same building when I was in grad school) but it is strange that suffering and the pleasant and the mundane all exist on the same pin point of time.

As of an hour ago 350 men had been lifted from the mine and it looked like the rest would be rescued quickly. Those poor men, their terrified families. I hope all is well soon.

Tuesday October 2, Radio, Reading

2007-10-03T15:02:00.000-07:00

Sally and I did get lost, too. However, one person lost is panic-inducing, but two friends lost is hilarious. We eventually got straightened out and arrived at the radio station on time.

Sally and I sat in the green room for a while listening to the playwrite and actor talking on the show ahead of me. When it was time, I clutched my glasses and went in. Jeffrey had picked out a selection from Turpentine for me to read. He was very warm, smart, the interview easy as conversation.

Then the reading. I was nervous. I have stood up before classes for years and not been nervous, but for some reason having to read my own work can get my heart thumping. I was going to wear a dress, but was so cold before we left, I decided to wear jeans. That made me a bit more comfortable. The finger of whiskey didn't hurt, either. We arrived just at 7:30. I think that was also a big help, not having to wait around.

The room was packed, lots of friends and even some people I didn't know sitting and standing clear to the back. There wasn't a podium and trying to read while standing and holding both my book and notes was tricky. (Louis was right about inserting the cards in the book with the transitions written on the cards...that would have worked better than separate notes) Yet, I didn't drop anything, didn't stumble, didn't trip and fall backwards over the chair. I worried my nose would drip but I was fine.

Shawna had taken the train from Berkeley to be there and that was extremely touching, as well as having so many of my friends taking time on a Tuesday night to be there. Afterwards I signed books, and the bookstore sold out. The last first edition Turpentines in Davis, perhaps, as the new box I received were second edition.

We went to the Bistro for a celebratory drink. A few fingers of whiskey, good conversation, a beautiful warm night with friends in California.

Sunday Monday....coming home

2007-10-03T14:46:00.000-07:00

We had one day in Deadwood to visit with old friends (from Jr. High!) who drove up from Casper to see us. We walked around Deadwood and Custer State Park, had dinner at the restaurant that Nylah had recommended. Then packing. I'm not sure how we managed, but we squashed about fifteen new books into our luggage and still fit all of our clothes as well. The suitcases were heavy, but since we didn't have to worry about not having clothes back in CA, we checked our bags and didn't have to lug them around much.

On the plane I tried to put my Avid Reader reading together, but mostly dozed. My ears were fine and the flight was shorter as it was routed through Salt Lake rather than Minneapolis.
We touched down in California, I picked up bags while Louis got the car (90.00 for parking! Still, cheaper than three on the van service)

When we got home I had a message from Elizabeth at Grove. I had the opportunity to appear on Jeffrey Callison's show on Capital City Radio...the next day. Would I do it? Louis was teaching all day and the thought of having to fight my chronic lack of direction and propensity for being lost was deflating. Sally saved the day. She said, "Of course you'll do it! I'll drive."

Saturday, September 29...panels panels panels

2007-10-03T14:00:00.000-07:00

The first event of my day was in the Deadwood Public Library Round Table Room. It was called, "Ask an author" and I was to sit at the round table, presumably with people who had questions, and answer them. I couldn't help but notice that not only was Ivan Doig presenting The Whistling Season for One Book South Dakota, at the same time, but Pete Dexter was reading at the Library in another room and Deb Marquardt as well. Sam came with me and the Festival volunteer led me to the room in which sat one other person. She had a cane, had just had back surgery. We chatted and then my mother and sister arrived. It occurred to me that four out of six of the people in the room were related, the fifth the festival volunteer. The woman with the cane asked, "Are you Ellen Baker?"

I said, "No. I'm sorry. Ellen Baker was here at nine o'clock." She looked crestfallen. I told her that Ivan Doig was reading at the Masonic Temple and Deb Marquardt was right outside the door, and she was going to play the guitar. The woman looked at me, then at her cane, thinking, I imagine, about the difficulty in shifting locations, then said she guessed she'd stay. One would think this situation would be awkward, but it was, all in all, pretty wonderful. My sister started asking questions as if she wasn't my sister at all, and the whole table had a fine discussion about literature and book publishing. We discussed the woman with the cane's book project and when the hour was done she pronounced it must have been fate that she was to be there, and thanked me. Very gratifying.

Next, Louis and I met to present, "Truth and Fiction, writing through History's Lens." It was a full room and, again, a lot of fun. Louis and I took turns reading and talking and there were many questions afterward. I didn't have a watch, and I worried through the whole thing that we were running long. WEAR A WATCH. I promised to get myself one before going to Calgary. The last thing I need is another thing to worry about.

Finally Nyla, Ellen and I did our debut novelists panel. Louis introduced us. We each read a small bit from our books and talked about our journey toward publishing. The night before I had read through Nyla's and Ellen's books and jotted down notes in case the discussion faltered. But it didn't prove necessary.

The panels allowed the authors to meet and talk to people, but I also noticed at the last book signing, many of the people that I had talked to at the panels bought my book and asked me to sign it.

With the last mass book signing, our responsibilities were over. However, though we did not have to appear again, some of the best times were had over drinks, and meals, and chance meetings. I did meet Ivan Doig. He had a room at the Hickock on the same floor. He was charming. I had wonderful conversations with Emily Cook of Milkweed Editions, Terri Jentz, the Webbs, Deb Marquardt, and the chef Lucia Watson (Savouring the Seasons) from Minneapolis. Pete Dexter, Louis and I traded books, and I am in debt to Pete as he handed over his hardback to my paper. Cathie Draine and I talked gardening. It was great seeing Bill Holm again (last we saw him he was sitting in his house in Hofsos, Iceland looking over the bay) and David Romtvedt approached us and asked if we were Sam's parents, Sam having made such an impression on him. My fellow debut novelists were wonderful to meet and share a podium with and we had a great time talking afterwards. Sherry DeBoers was a pleasure, ever positive, helpful and well-spoken. It was a wonderful weekend.

Friday, September 28 Mass Book signing-the feast

2007-10-03T12:39:00.000-07:00

It was my first book signing and held in the Deadwood Pavilion on Main Street. There was some consternation before-hand that the Borders people had not shown up and there weren't going to be any books for many of the authors to sign, but Sherry DeBoers got on the phone and located the errant van which had gone to Spearfish instead of Deadwood, and in the nick of time books were stacked on the tables. I had a good time signing books and was heartened by the number and diversity and friendliness of the Dakota readers.

Louis and I found the alphabetical seating really wonderful in one way, a little less so in another. The wonderful part was being seated with Rebecca Norris Webb and Alex Webb, two personable, well-travelled bon-vivant photographers who were great fun to talk to. Terri Jentz, writer of Strange Piece of Paradise was directly behind us and conversing with her was also a highlight. In fact, meeting other authors and buying their books was one of the best things about the entire weekend. We met and got books from Andrew Helfer, who writes amazing graphic biographies, fellow debut novelists Nyla Griffith (Lucky Strike) and Ellen Baker (Keeping the House), Pete Dexter, jounalist, essayist and novelist (Paper Trails, Deadwood) During the weekend we also caught up with some people we already knew; Bill Holm (poet, essayist), Craig Howe (Hate Speech, Horses and Hostages), David Laskin(The Children's Blizzard), Robert Bonner(Professor emeritus at Carleton College), and I did catch up with Cathie Draine and found she is related by marriage to my third grade teacher Sylvia.

In the evening there was another signing in Lead. There we found that if the seating went from A to Z, and A started in the Lobby and wound down a long, narrow hallway, AND Ivan Doig was present to sign books, having a last name that starts with W isn't to one's advantage. Of course, I couldn't hope to compete with Ivan Doig even if my name started with A.

Following the signing was the literary feast. Twelve dinner speakers and four courses. Kenneth Davis was the host and promised to buzz anyone going beyond their fifteen minutes of time. Pete Dexter stood up and said if Kenneth Davis buzzed him during his reading, Kenneth Davis wasn't going back to New York. Sonia Manzano (Maria of Sesame Street) spoke, Ivan Doig read, as did the poet laureate of Wyoming, David Romtvedt. Deb Marquart read from her book, The Horizontal World, which I enjoyed so much I vowed to get her book.

By the time we got back to our hotel room, we were exhausted. I put on the hotel robe embroidered with Bill Hickock's name, and we all watched the animal channel to wind down.

Thursday September 27 First Appearance

2007-09-27T16:13:00.000-07:00

I was right to feel optimistic. I woke up and could breathe again, I could hear, and I could speak! The monster lives! It was hard to say goodbye at the ranch, I took a farewell photo of the Devil's Tower as we drove past. We made it to Rapid City and to the Television Station in good time. Good enough time that we were forced to idle away half an hour buying books at a good used bookstore down the street. The interview was good. I worried that we didn't say enough to promote the Festival, but it was the interviewer's program and he wanted to know if it was hard to write a book. Then asked how one writes a book. Hmmm, hard question to answer, actually.

Afterwards we stopped at Dinosaur Park in Rapid City. I have a photo of myself as a child sitting on those dinosaurs. Notice they are painted green. I used to think dinosaurs and elephants were green because of that park.

We got checked in at the hotel in Deadwood. As we walked in Sherry DeBoer said, "You must be Spring Warren!" For a moment I felt almost famous, then she introduced herself. We had exchanged e-mails, and, I imagine, she must have seen my web-site to know what I looked like. In any case she made us feel very welcome. We even got a gift bag.

The street you see above is Main Street in front of the Lincoln Hotel where gunfights are held every night during the summer, no matter the crosswalks. We are staying in the Hickock Hotel named after Wild Bill who was shot just down the street. The Hotel is newly renovated and quite plush with chocolates on the pillows and bathrobes, monogrammed with the dead man's name, hanging in the bath. Go down a flight of stairs, however and there is gambling and smoking in the lobby. No poker chips and whiskey, but video and one-armed bandits. Tonight we go to the author's reception. Tomorrow the Festival begins.

Wednesday September 26

2007-09-27T15:59:00.000-07:00

I'm losing my voice. I open up the package of Luden's lozenges I packed and wonder if I have, in fact, hexed myself by buying all of the pharmaceuticals instead of having protected myself as I'd intended. Thank goodness I didn't buy wart cream or foot fungus spray. I suck on faux cherry candies and try not to panic. I look over my calendar, note the six appearances I am supposed to make and wonder how upset the Festival would be if I couldn't do it. I go over my notes, make more notes for the panels. I really don't feel good. Then my mom and I go into the sewing room. I half-heartedly start to sew scraps into crazy quilt squares while she makes insanely detailed pieced work panels. I like the crazy quilt. It takes no thought. Only sewing seam after seam and ironing them flat. It's repetitive, like swimming laps, but easier. It is meditation. By late afternoon, I am feeling a little optimistic. I think I'm feeling better. Knock on wood.

Tuesday Sept 25-The Ranch

2007-09-27T15:49:00.001-07:00

I've been laying around the ranch feeling horrible, my hearing waxing and waning, and getting more and more anxious about the Book Festival in Deadwood and how I am going to function sick and deaf. My father mentions to me that he had just received in the mail a notice from the Wyoming Department of Health about what to do in case of a flu pandemic. Stockpile food and water. Don't go to work or send your children to school. Is he looking at me strangely? Wishing I didn't hug him when I came in the door?
I feel a little better after dinner. My mother worries it is going to frost. We all rush outside and pick apples.

Sunday September 23 From Davis to the Ranch

2007-09-27T15:38:00.000-07:00

HELP, I CAN"T HEAR ANYTHING!
I'm still feeling very much under the weather, but armed with Dayquil and Tylenol I get on the plane. All is well until the landing in Minneapolis/St. Paul. My ears made a terrible noise and everything became muffled. I couldn't hear much of what was being said to me and when I spoke I felt like I was yelling, though Louis and Sam complained I was speaking too softly. This does not bode well. Once in the airport I ran to the airport shop and got an additional decongestant, but that didn't work. Going back up in the plane then landing in Rapid City (1st pic) didn't improve matters at all.
There was a beautiful sunset and an impressive rainbow as we drove to the ranch, however. Perhaps my health will quickly improve.

The night before

2007-09-22T20:32:00.001-07:00

I've got it all ready, crossed almost everything off the list, stacked the carry-ons beside the door. In order to do this I have taken a box of Dayquil. Used a box of kleenex. I have whined and moaned and whinged and protested my disbelief that I would get SICK the day before we left. I know I'm forgetting something, but I can't do anything about it. I'm just too tired. As long as we get there, it will be fine. As long as I have the itinerary and the notes, we can manage without the rest. All I need to do now is drink a hot cup of chai, curl up on the couch and finally do the final thing on the list. Rest.

That was a great day. And now... (last day)

2007-09-22T12:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of those days that pulls me right out of my usual state of anxious blue. My publicist e-mailed me two reviews, both great. One from the Great Falls paper and one from the San Francisco Chronicle! I also got an e-mail from an old friend who is going to try to come and visit me while I'm in Montana. Then, feeling extremely chipper, I got my nails done and as I have only had my nails done twice in my life, I found sitting in the spa watching women trail in and out very interesting. And my nails have a nice trimmed look, though I have already chipped, dented and rubbed the nude polish on them. I got my hair cut a little more, and I love it. I got more copies of my cards made, and then when I got back home found an invitation for Louis and I to present for the Modesto Bee Book Club! (I now have three book clubs lined up to talk to!)

I got a package from one of my best friends and in it was the typewriter charm pictured above and a travel kit complete with neck pillow, earplugs and lotion. By this time, I am reeling with happiness.

We had drinks with friends as we often do on Friday afternoons at the Bistro and celebrated Kathy's finished rough draft and article acceptance. Whiskey was good. Then we met John and Lisa and had dinner at the Mustard Seed. A great time. At one point we were all singing Gentle on my Mind-good thing I didn't have my harmonica or the evening might well have soured. Instead we went from that to telling off-color jokes with the chef. (A cowboy walks into...)

When I got home I slumped on the couch. My throat was slightly sore. (uproarious behavior will do that.)

I woke up this morning...SICK. Nose running, throat tight, eyes swollen, slight cough. It is cloudy. It is cold. I have a lot to do and no energy to do it. All the anxiety I wasn't feeling yesterday was just waiting until my resistance was down to sock me with both a cold and dire pessimism.

Today-Buy more dayquil. Pack computer/paperwork bag. Check that I have all the itinerary information, notes, phone numbers, and names that I will need. Rest.

2 Days

2007-09-20T11:28:00.000-07:00

What ifs are exploding all around. What if I catch a bug on the plane and don't have antihistimine? What if I get a toothache like I did in Chicago and can't find a dentist or a pair of pliers? What if I get stung by a bee, get a cold sore, a flare, a headache?

It would be bad. But I will do the magical incantation to keep these things from happening. I will go to RiteAid and arm myself with pharmaceuticals, and that preparation will ensure I will need nothing of the things I purchased. Right?

I will collect all my paperwork in a file today. Send off the last forms to the Festival, gather books and make sure all the official stuff will fit into my 2nd carryon. (I don't check baggage anymore) I need to make sure I have a good pen for book signing (Sure HOPE I need it) Trying to sign books with a bad pen is awful. Too thin of point, too thick, too fast, too draggy and it starts to look like a five year old signed my name. I need to contact a couple of friends in Missoula and hope to see them while I'm there and print out driving directions to the TV station in Rapid City.

The rest of today is a day of regular pre-travel activities. Do laundry. (Go to the drug store) Talk to Jesse and Nicole about watching the house (geese, ducks, turtles, fish, cats, rabbits). Make sure there is plenty of animal food. Type up directions. Some cleaning. Call the ranch and make sure all is fine for our arrival, anticipate seeing my folks, the ranch, Wyoming.

3 Days

2007-09-19T12:13:00.000-07:00

I got an e-mail this morning from Elizabeth (the magic publicist) She's putting together an interview on Montana Public Radio. I have been on the radio before, on the program, "Two Broads Casting" here in Davis. It was actually a lot of fun, though I agonized over the appearance in anticipation. Before I went on I cautioned the hosts, "I am so sorry, but if you ask me for any specific name or date, I WILL blank and you will have an awkward, ugly pause on the air."

When asked what books I am reading or have loved, I stammer and stutter and hundreds of books whir through my mind and I can't read the title or the author's name of a single one.

In light of that particular drawback of mine, (one of many, alas) I should be better prepared. I'll write down my favorite authors and books (or three of them, at least) in preparation for the inevitable question.

Today, in addition to the book list, I need to drop off a few more books, a few more invitations, call the Bistro to make sure they can accomodate a crowd for drinks post reading, find my missing favorite jeans (WHERE could they have gone?) and print off still more bookmarks and postcards.

4 DAYS

2007-09-18T14:56:00.000-07:00

Louis gave me the copy of his book he uses for readings to reference his "readings system."

He brackets the passages in the book he will read aloud. At the end of each passage he writes in the page number for what he will read next. He pencils in transitions. The slips of paper you see stuck in the book have prompts for what he will talk about at that point, and on each of those pieces of paper he writes the page number where they belong in case he drops the book and all of the pieces of paper go flying free. I'll give it a try.

My glasses broke last night. My prescription glasses. I imagine I could get by with cheaters, but the Helmi (Helmus and Helmus, our eyedoctors) say they think they can repair the things by tomorrow, considering the situation.

We received a package of information from the South Dakota Book Festival. Lots of information (very exciting) but no hotel room listed where it was supposed to be...and Sam will be along with us and there wasn't a ticket for him for the Literary Feast. I figured we'd buy one if we could get one at all at this late date. Elizabeth, the magical publicist took care of it all.

The feast is featuring readings by Ivan Doig, David Laskin, my fellow panelist Nyla Griffith and Cathie Draine, among others. When I lived in Sundance my 2nd grade teacher was Sylvia Draine. She was still teaching when I came to Sundance to teach school myself. One day in the teacher's lounge, the air blue with smoke (at least half the teacher's smoked at the time) Sylvia Draine and Mrs. Ripley (another one of my grade school teachers) looked at me approvingly. Mrs. Draine said, "She certainly has turned out well, hasn't she?" I glowed. Then either Mrs. Draine or Mrs. Ripley, apparently remembering my lackluster grade school years, said, "I certainly didn't see it in her." and the other concurred.

I wonder if Cathie Draine is a relative of the indomitable Sylvia. I will have to google and see what I can come up with.

I am thinking of clothes, of packing. Not only for the festival, but for the ranch the four days before. Jeans, jeans, jeans and some unwrinkleable black items...skirt, shirts, the like. Melissa gave me a great pair of black shoes and Carol is lending me her boots, which seem to be one of two pairs of boots in the universe that have ever fit me. I feel like a bride- something borrowed, something black. Bride of Frankenstein I guess.

I am now a fully fledged member of the Western Writers of America. Got a welcome today.

5 DAYS

2007-09-17T12:28:00.001-07:00

A weekend of biking. Actually, only some hours of biking on the weekend, but the seventy miles tired me out the entire weekend. I was forced by my unassailable fatigue to take a nap though I often wake from naps even groggier than I was going in. Maybe I had a "touch of something." Something seems to be going around. In any case, I didn't get anything done but the NYT crossword puzzle.

Today, only five days before we fly to Rapid City, I need to drop off the last two books to people in the acknowledgements, finish the airline arrangements, make a reading plan and mark Turpentine accordingly, send the finished comments on the book I just read, make sure I have all the copies I need in the event file. Maybe I'll try to figure out what unwrinkleable clothes I should stuff into my suitcase for the trip.

Then when Sam gets home, we'll watch David Attenborough (my hero) and eat popcorn.

8 Days

2007-09-14T15:04:00.000-07:00

I began day 8 BT (before tour) with a run. As I ran I thought about Kandee and as often happens (though not as often as I like) I figured out a few things about the novel. As soon as I got home (which was not as soon as I'd like) I jotted down the cryptic notes I'd been chanting to myself fearing I'd forget them.

-2 mentions of Rudolph 1) flu house, 2) diary...
-Rudolph scene (the house with fruit trees)...
-4 stinks..
-Opening New Year's dance, some soldiers dancing others not.

I mailed my applications to Western Writers of America and to Women Writing the West. I've been waiting to do this and now with an officially published book under my belt, I was finally able to fill out the forms.

Elizabeth e-mailed more travel plans (did I want to spend an extra day in Missoula?) and information on the Banff/Calgary trip. Everything is set so far, though I need to make reservations for ABQ.

I made contact with some of the writers I will be appearing with on panels over the next month. What a great bunch I get to hang with: Ellen Baker-Keeping the House, Alyson Hady-Keeneland, Snow Ashes, -Nyla Griffith, Lucky Strike, -Russell Rowland, The Watershed Years, In Open Spaces and Sarie MacKay, Lodestar. That is a wonderful part of this gig-getting to meet all those authors.

One of the high points of the day was receiving a message from a fan. He read Turpentine and wrote such a nice note, I was greatly cheered. I often think of writing to authors and do not- thinking they might not want to hear from someone they don't know. I may have to re-think that stance. I certainly liked it.

Finally, reading a draft of Shawna Yang Ryan's upcoming book. (Check out Locke 1928) Both books are really something. Another great part of the writer's gig is when you have writing friends who will not only read your work, but also hand over great novels for your perusal.

The Tour

2007-09-13T13:09:00.000-07:00

I'm counting down the days until the tour begins, and I am a little nervous about the whole thing. When I got the book contract and the plans for the fall started coming together, I had little idea of what it all meant. I looked online for accounts of first time authors on first time tours, but didn't find anything. Luckily, there are wonderful people at Grove Atlantic and they patiently answer all my questions with no apparent incredulity. Still, it is a unknown land I enter into.

As Pete Seager sang "as I travel you can travel with me too."...ON THE TOUR.

Pre-tour (9 days before flight 1)
Today I answered e-mails. There was a sudden problem with the Albuquerque reading, a conflict of events. The date was changed to one day earlier, advertising shifted, and of course, the day I fly changed. The wonderful Elizabeth, Grove publicist, is figuring out my flight needs for the Canada and the Montana legs of the tour.

I was invited to stay longer in Montana and take part in the Summit Salon in Banff at the Banff Center after finishing at the WordFest in Calgary. The place, the event, sound fantastic. It also means I fly straight to Montana afterwards rather than back to California then to Montana.

I've been passing out the invitations to the Avid Reader Event. I feel like this little job makes me feel a little more secure. (I'm doing something!) Any way to find calm.

2 more events that have alleviated stress-

1) My mother called. She'd read Turpentine. She cried and said the book was so good she had that blue feeling one gets on Christmas afternoon when you know it is all over and now you have to wait another year for it to come around again. Except that I, personally, have a GREAT feeling when Christmas is over (Won't have to do that for another year!) and recognizing that yes, this is my loving mother making the comment, I was buoyed.

2) I had a harmonica lesson! It was great, I liked my teacher, he didn't smite his brow even once during the lesson and he made some really, really cool sounds on the harmonica and assured me that I would (eventually) do the same.

(What not to do.) Don't get a haircut so soon before going. I went to a new salon, got a good haircut, but it's short! I should have got the cut earlier, but put it off...I did tell the salon owner I didn't want much change, but he was scandalized by what had happened on the back of my head due to years of self-hair cuts. It will be cool in the Rocky Mountain West, I'll have to get turtlenecks to keep my own turtle neck warm.

Graphic Arts

2007-09-10T14:43:00.001-07:00

Invitations...if you don't have one and want one, let me know your address and I'll mail it ASAP.

I like the graphics on these. The weight of the buffalo against the slender letters on the invitation and the small buffalo against the big word on the bookmark.

In graphic arts, in writing, in food (in life?) many of the most exciting pairings are, if not opposites, then the very different. Chutney's spice against the sweet tart fruit, a novel's horrific image rendered in exquisite language, a pool on a hot day.

Turpentine, in-situ

2007-09-08T14:13:00.001-07:00

Shawna came to town yesterday (Yes, the Shawna Yang Ryan, writer extraordinaire, who wrote Locke 1928, available on Amazon, don't tell me you haven't read it yet? Have you checked out her web site? She has one of the best blogs going!) We went to bookstores to see it on the shelves. At Borders we found all but one of the autographed versions sold and six new ones out.

Louis brought them to a clerk and said I would sign them. The clerk looked at me dubiously and I said, "He means, I will sign them if you would like me to..." The clerk frowned. "Maybe two. If you sign the books, we can't return them!" I signed (squeaked three under the wire) and tried not to laugh. What faith the woman had in me!

I had, of course forgotten my camera, and Shawna hers so we didn't even get to record the event for posperity.

I was downtown this morning, however, so I went back, took a photo and was stopped by the clerk. He told me he couldn't allow me to take photographs in the store. I pointed to Turpentine and said, "Oh, I was just taking a picture of my book." He didn't smile. "It is corporate policy. No photographs."

Why? What could people do with pictures taken in Borders? What are they afraid of? Do things happen in Borders they don't want bandied about? What happens in Borders stays in Borders?

And the photograph that got interrupted? That's not it. That's not Borders. That may not even be Turpentine top shelf second from the left. I swear.

Really and sadly, that's the way it was.

2007-09-08T14:05:00.000-07:00

A friend who had seen yesterday's posting asked me if I hadn't messed up my office more than it really was for the sake of the photograph?
Louis said he couldn't believe I would post that picture.
What? Doesn't everyone's office get like this?

2007-09-06T22:53:00.000-07:00

I couldn't take it anymore. I had been working nonstop trying to get a draft done, telling myself the cleaning would wait, unpacking the rest of Turpentine would wait, throwing out the candy wrappers and the scrap paper and emptying the trash would wait. I couldn't file the papers. I needed the research notes. Every spare moment I could get into the office was for writing. But tonight, I had an hour. I had already written for six and the mess stress was killing me.

“First comes thought; then organization of that thought, into ideas and plans; then transformation of those plans into reality. The beginning, as you will observe, is in your imagination.”
Napoleon Hill (American author, 1883-1970)

Gap

2007-09-05T22:35:00.000-07:00

I wish they wouldn't embroider 'sweet dreams' on pillows, or silkscreen 'coffee' on mugs. I don't like bowls that say 'fruit', or cookie jars that say 'cookies' on them. Worst of all is the advertisement of a brand of clothing on the clothing itself. I can live with 'Levis' printed on the button of my jeans, but hoodies with the word 'Gap' across the front are a waste of a hoodie and the terrific word 'gap' as well.

Gap--- Any opening or breach in an otherwise continuous object
A breach by which an escape might be effected or an attack made
A notch or slit made in a swan's beak
A break in a range of mountains
To fill a vacant space.

Entry project part 2, 3,4...

2007-09-04T15:42:00.000-07:00

Alas, before one builds, one has to prepare. One must paint. I hate painting. (walls and sheds, houses and the like) I started to paint, but I couldn't quite reach the whole thing. So-(pic 2) Louis got the ladder and finished the high spots for me, then decided (picture 3) to go ahead and finish painting the entire length of the wall. While he was doing that, I spray painted the light fixture to match the hooks I'd purchased earlier at IKEA.(pic 4) THEN I got to build, install the hooks, put down the FLOR squares and entice a cat to recline for ambience. Ta-Da! (Pic 5)

Transforming the entry

2007-09-02T13:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just want to build something. Something I can put my hands on and use. Because writing, though building with words, is very abstract. An abstractions of sound into meaning. An abstract set of marks to symbolize the abstract sounds that mean something. If one works on a computer they are using little blips of electricity that create a sequence of blips so that the computer can "read" in its abstract language and turn it into our abstract language. All those abstract words into abstract sentences, into abstract files called chapters and books...

Like I said, I want to put my hands on wood, cut it, shape it, use it. I've made tables, chairs, amoires, boxes, pencil holders...today I am going to put up hooks in the entry so that we can hang our coats. For no matter it is 100 degrees out, fall, and then winter, are coming.

Here is the before. Actually it looks pretty good. In the photo you can't see the holes in the wall, the dingy paint, the scratches and stain on the sixty year old tiles...believe me, they are there.

Tilley's Sherbet Lemons

2007-08-31T16:53:00.001-07:00

Ah, finally. The shop where I buy candy finally had these in. They are lemon drops with a very tart fizz deep inside. I started sucking on them as a little energy boost while I was writing and was quickly addicted. Once I was addicted, of course, the shop ran out of them.

I began checking the candy shop daily, feeling like I really couldn't get by without them. I remembered another filled lemon drop which I had once loved, Bon Bon Napoleons, and went to the newstand where they once carried those. They had promised me they would order them, but in the two years I've been inquiring, they have failed to do so. They still didn't have them.

I was forced to turn to Zotz. Zotz, unfortunately, didn't come in lemon, only cherry and apple. And you couldn't get a whole bag, only a tail of them, four Zotz a tail. I grudgingly switched to Zotz, still checking, now only on a weekly basis, for the lemon sherbets.

Today, Tilley's came through with it's British flag fluttering on the front of the package and the statement "Established 1885 Finest Quality Traditional Sweets" in red and white lettering below the flag.

When I dumped them on the counter to take their picture, there was a lot of escaped fizz on the counter. I popped one of the sherbets into my mouth. Sweeter than the zotz, but just wait until that fizz. The fizz didn't come. I tried another, it was broken. Perhaps these were old Tilleys! The best buy date said May 9...but what year? I was disgruntled. The Tilleys weren't doing it for me anymore. I was actually yearning for a Zotz now and I'd just bought three bags of Tilleys.

I searched my office drawer and found an almost spent tail of Zotz, one rose colored candy at the end. I opened it, ate it. while wondering why I was suddenly preferring Zotz. Zotz have a higher fizz to candy ratio. The candy surrounding the fizz is also more tart. The only things they lacked was a lemon flavor, a larger bag and the swank Tilley's name and traditional aura surrounding them. Still, Tilleys are good. Anyone want a bag? I've got extra.

Staring at the Screen

2007-08-29T16:12:00.000-07:00

I've been writing all day, and not particularly well, at least it feels that way. Six hours and my eyes ache. My stomach doesn't feel great because I've been mindlessly eating those little baby carrots and pretty much polished off a bag of them. A BAG. I can only be glad it wasn't potato chips or mmm those individually wrapped chocolates that Emily gets from Ohio.mmmm. I could fit a few of those in even now. Still, it's six hours that had to be put in. I tell myself (fool myself) that a project is going to take a certain amount of time, and a lot of that time isn't going to be the wonderful writing experience when words just flow. In fact, have I had that flowing experience? All I can do is what I can do. Keep going. Work toward finish. Eat the bag of carrots if you have to. Chocolate's coming.

Turpentine in Stores (NOW!)

2007-08-27T15:28:00.000-07:00

Sometimes out on the road you can see for miles and your destination, while visible, seems so long in arriving that you start to forget where you're heading to. You take a look at the Quonset on the side of the road, or the way the clouds are torn along the eastern sky, or the buzz of the gravel on the tires. And then, you're there.

I went into Borders on Friday to thank the manager for offering to host a reading and while we talked about the upcoming availability date of September 10, he looked up Turpentine on the computer and announced that the book seemed to be in the store.

We walked into the literature section and I saw it. My first thought was, "Oh, I have that book!"

The manager asked me if I'd like to sign the copies. I stammered, "Sure." The clerk handed me a pen and I signed my name, in a wavering line on the Title page, feeling a little giddy and a little like I was play-acting 'important author.' So, if you get a book in Davis, California, and inside is a very shaky signature, I apologize for the lack of grace, yet more, thank you very, very much for taking Turpentine home.

Grace Paley 1922-2007

2007-08-23T11:36:00.000-07:00

When I heard that Grace Paley had died, I went to the bookshelf and pulled out a collection of her short stories that I purchased in New Haven Connecticut at Atticus Bookstore. I had not read Grace Paley before that time, though she had obviously been around, writing, a long time; the photo on the cover of the book showing a white haired woman in comfortable clothes that spoke of another generation. I loved her work. I was glad I had taken so long to "discover" her because now I had volumes of her stories to read that she had already written. I wouldn't have to wait on her next book to sink into the worlds she allowed me to enter. Today, however, I wish that I could be in that state of anticipation, waiting for a favorite writer to send another book out, so that I could love Grace Paley all over again.

San Joaquin Valley shrouded in Santa Barbara smoke

2007-08-21T10:49:00.001-07:00

Driving through the San Joaquin Valley the sky was greyed with smoke from over the coastal range. We stopped at a rest stop near Grapevine to get a cup of coffee. In the parking lot people were walking around with their hands upraised catching the white ash motes falling from the sky, asking, "What is it, what is going on?"

Re-re-re-re-write

2007-08-14T17:25:00.000-07:00

I'm swamped with papers. At this stage of the re-writing (or the re-re-re-re-re-writing) I am forced by my poor memory to have books open, maps unfurled, files and files of paper slipping around on my desk referencing WWI, the Four Minutemen, the price of flour in 1918, weather patterns in North Dakota, etc, in order to proceed. I wish that I had a brain like Louis' and Sam's. They are encyclopedias of knowledge. Further, once they hear, read, think of something, they don't forget it. I can't even remember the names of my own characters.
We had drinks with friends at the Bistro the other day, all writers of one ilk or another. I said that re-writing was like sweeping leaves ahead of you. It starts out manageable, but in pretty short order there's a mountain to push. Kathy said it was like trying to make your way around a room filled with cotton. Louis likened it to pulling off a hangnail. Sally wouldn't say...(that painful?)
I do like the very end of it all, truly at the final versions, paring language down, choosing just the right word to replace three, letting an image rise, playing with dialogue. Then, re-writing is less pushing a tree's worth of leaves ahead of you than it is sanding wood and watching the grain rise.

Designing Turpentine

2007-08-09T11:47:00.000-07:00

From left to right-Turpentine, the uncorrected proof, the advance reader's copy, and the final version that I received yesterday from Grove.

Many authors have hated the covers of their books. (i.e. the writer who had stickers made to paste over his terrible cover) I've known authors who absolutely hated the adversarial process of having a cover chosen for their books, even if it finally worked out all right.
I, however, have nothing but good things to say about Grove/Atlantic - Morgan, and Andrew. They got the right image, the right font, the right cover, trying out a number of mock-ups, even employing several artists along the way. Gene Mollica produced the winning design.
As for the process- Gene, Andrew, and Morgan were kind enough to talk to me about the work, even asked my opinion about the images. They were all exceedingly generous with their time. (I ask a lot of questions.) The book has turned out beautifully. It has flaps! It has rich color, a soft matt finish, the perfect font, and a detail I am most enamored of-deckle edges on the pages.
Thank you Gene, Andrew and Morgan!

Coast Camp

2007-08-06T08:54:00.000-07:00

We had a great time. I wasn't sure-hiking three miles in with all of our gear for one night camping did not sound time efficient, for one thing. It wasn't. It was even worse than I had imagined because Sam's newspapers were later than usual being dropped off. By the time he'd folded and delivered them and we drove to Pt. Reyes it was well after three. An hour of hiking in (Louis and Jesse took the biggest packs) putting up the tent and getting other gear ready, and it was already time for dinner. Then, camp magic. Otherwise known as merlot. Add that to veg. packets roasting on the grill, my great boys goofing off and laughing, and a harmonica.
I realize the harmonica might only have been magic for me, but the rest of the crew, recognizing that it was my birthday after all, did not complain about my playing, however I did get a gift certificate for a harmonica lesson when I got back home.
The next day Louis and I walked on the beach while the boys slept and perused tide pools filled with starfish and anemones. Back at camp we packed up and headed back for the car. Three miles and the boys were way ahead of us the whole time. It was hardly any time ago we were cajoling them to please keep up. I played my harmonica again while we walked and Tule elk stook up from their beds on the hill and stared.
We had pastries at the Bovine Bakery in Point Reyes Station before driving back to the house. A fast camping trip and an excellent birthday.

Sutter Gold Mine-

2007-08-01T12:38:00.000-07:00

I got it halfway right. This photo is supposed to go with the Volcano posting, but at least I got it up on the web. Now that I've (partially) figured out the drill, more pics to come!

The website is up!

2007-07-30T11:51:00.000-07:00

I am travelling the information highway in a sporty green and yellow website, thanks to my good friend Sally. All good things about it are her doing, the less than ideal, mine. Because I now have a website, I can finish filling in my WyoWiki page and get my information in on the Bookclub Cookbook program in which bookclubs can invite authors to talk with them about their books. I can put my website info on the bottom of my e-mail (or, to be honest, it is more likely I can't, but Sally can) and I can fill in all those spaces I've previously left blank on bookstore pages and author pages for my house with the site address. And so the world enlarges.

Volcano, California

2007-07-27T15:36:00.001-07:00

No volcano. Miners named the goldrush town after the mists that would rise from the hills, giving an eerie sense of an active volcano in the foothills. We didn't go to see the volcano, nor to do mining. We went to Volcano to meet high school history teachers who Louis entertained after dinner with a talk about his new book project. Of course that was the best part, but a close second was the setting itself. I love the foothills and at the end of July the hills are golden as they rise into the Sierra. Apart from the beautiful setting, Volcano has a great little bar where I enjoyed two great little shots of Balvenie whiskey. We stayed at a historic Inn, The Saint George Hotel. In our rooms was a framed photograph of an elderly couple. On the back it said that one of them had been born in the room.
The St. George Hotel is reputed to have a fine restaurant. We did not get to eat off the menu, unfortunately. but had the usual lot of a gathering of teachers-large scale food preparation.
The next day we went to Jackson where they have one of the best used bookstores I've been in. We've made plans to return just to go to Hein and Company Used and Rare Books. I am already regretting having put a few tomes back. That North Dakota memoir was so interesting...
We also went into the Sutter gold mine as part of a group tour. We were all asked if we had been in a mine before, if we had problems with panic, etc... no one volunteered their phobias. When we descended into the tunnel, however, I thought I might just display mine. Overhead an immeasurable weight of rock, getting more immeasurable by the moment. I could not think of much else except the foolhardiness of going underground. We were in California, where there are eathquakes. Mines cave in, there is gas in mines, there are rocks falling, people get lost in the twisting tunnels!
I had my book with me and by paying attention to and jotting down words like collar, portal, face, and back ribs, I maintained composure.
We were told the donkeys and mules who pulled the carts were called links. The links were brought into the mine, and once there spent their entire lives underground, never to come to the surface again. It was too expensive to cart them back out. I wonder if it ever occurred to people that this was a cruelty. It seems unlikely a donkey would have merited consideration the human workers were not afforded.
We sat in the rescue chamber for a while, our guide telling us about equipment as varied as jack bits to canaries to carbide lamps. The chamber was the safest place in the mine with more spring steel rock bolts in place holding the rock together than anywhere else in the mine. Water and air were piped in, a first aid kit and a telephone on the wall. When our guide turned out the light all I could see was Louis' glow in the dark watch face.
Back in the unsafe chambers, our guide told us about the different drills used through history. The first mechanized drill, the "big" drill, made so much quartz dust, or silica dust that it made men sick. The resulting illness: jackhammer laugh, white lung, silicosis. The average amount of time a man lived after taking up the drill-3 years. The hazard pay given for the work-an extra seven dollars.
I was happy to return to the daylight. As we drove toward the mouth of the mine, all one could see was a rectangle of thick turpuoise sky framed by black rock.

Leaving Kithagil The rest of the Trip part 2

2007-07-03T15:21:00.000-07:00

Monday June 25

We left the Kidagil community center and headed for Akureyri where some people (us) would rent cars while others would fly to Reykjavik for a stay, and others would fly to Reykjavik to fly to points home, all over the world. Louis, Sam and I loaded our 3 bags into the tiny little trunk of the rental car and headed to the fishing village Hofsos where Minnesotan/Icelandic poet Bill Holm has a house, Brimnes, with ocean a few yards from the door. It is a very small village, a few homes, a grocery with a post office inside that is about the size and shape of a coat tree with a shelf, hung with stamps and envelopes, a museum, a place to rent rooms, a restaurant and Bill Holm's house. We had dinner at the restaurant, Bill calling ahead saying he had three Americans visiting, could they open for dinner? They were happy to, just give them half an hour. Bill read to us from his new work, a letter from Iceland. He said of the island, "It is a landscape you want in your consciousness."
In thirty minutes we walked twenty yards to the front porch of the eatery and had a great meal, and wine. No Sutter Home this night, but Wombat Hill. It was our first night away from the umbrella of the Reykjavik Academy and the first meal we paid for. For the cost of the room and the meal, we could have had a room and a meal in Paris, thanks to a very weak dollar, a strong Icelandic krona, and the fact that almost everything save fish and lamb and hot water must be shipped in. It would have been a poor trade however. A poet, a good meal, an ocean, a rocky beach, a long view, and scores of seagulls is well worth any city.

Tuesday June 26th.
We had breakfast at the grocery store. Though it was a very small place, they had home-made pastries hot from the oven. Icelandic pastries are the best I've ever eaten, and they were delicious everywhere we went. They have exceptionally good dairy products, especially great butter which they obviously make good use of in their bakery items.
At the museum in Hofsos I looked at maps. From apalhraun (black lava) to lyng (heath) to mol (pebbles) to tun (cultivated areas) these maps diffentiated between 24 different land types on each page.
The stories of immigration could be heartbreaking in both the hardships of living in a new world and the struggle to get there. Kristjan Kristjanson wrote in the 1870's "The little daughter of a couple from the East fjords died before the ship landed at Quebec. Grief stricken, the mother could not bear to have the baby put overboard and concealed the death."
One more cup of coffee with Bill and a goodbye and we headed toward Reykjavik.

We stopped at the Skagafjordur Folk Museum. The museum consisted of several buildings made of sod, but not what one would expect of a sod house. These, instead of being low and dark were tall, the sod cut at an angle and stacked so that the pattern of one angle atop another resembled herringbone. A boy of about thirteen took our money, gave us our tickets, poured us tea, cleared our cups and tried to sell us souveneirs, which we couldn't afford due to the previously mentioned weak dollar,strong krona.

Continuing on to Reykjavik we watched the hay being turned in the fields. Icelandic hay is like hair, combed, recombed, teased and fluffed. It is difficult to dry hay when there is (usually) so much rain in the summer months. The Icelandic horses watched from neighboring pastures, their bushy manes standing straight up. They seem to have muscles in their necks that allow them to raise their manes like a coxcomb in addition to having more natural gaits than non-Icelandic horses. They are also very curious and when visiting Bill we stopped at a fence and the horses came running over to see what was going on.

Wednesday, June 27th
Our first full day in Reykjavik. Sam has his favorites museums picked out and has also helpfully found out which ones are free on Wednesdays! First stop: National Museum of Reykjavik. My favorite picks- the Gudbandsbiblia-Gudbrandur's Bible of which 500 copies were made over 2 years on the first printing press in the country. Bishop Aronson brought it in and was then beheaded (because of the conversion to Lutheranism not because of the press) not long after at Skalholt on Nov. 7, 1550 A.D. There was also a watercolor journal painted by Pora Pjetursdottir in the 19th Century that was very beautiful.
At the museum I noticed a group of mothers come to have coffee in the museum's cafe. They parked their baby carriages outside. Here you don't see the two pound folding strollers we have in the States. In Reykjavic the buggies wait like elf sized conestogas but with snow tires and heavy springs, waterproof hoods and pull down weather shields. They look as if the mothers could get in with their babies and drive themselves across the city streets.

At the Culture house, (Pjodmenningardhusid) I enjoy the words of an 8th Century Scribe. "Oh fortunate reader, wash your hands and touch this book so as to turn the pages softly and keep your fingers at a good distance from the letters. No one who is not a scribe believes it is work. Oh how difficult it is to be a scribe! It dulls the eyes, constricts the kidneys and torments all the joints as well. Three fingers write, the whole body suffers..."

Thursday, June 28
We go to the Reykjavik Academy to meet with Vidar and the other participants who are not our of the country yet. It is a pleasure to see them, as if we were meeting old friends after a prolonged absence instead of new friends after three days away. We enjoy a meal of cheeses and smoked lamb, flat bread and more excellent baked goods. We are glad to get this food, not only because it is delicious and we are sharing it with friends, but because we have had to be so careful with what we buy. We have used soup as our standard, walking up and down the street converting prices to dollars. "This soup is...seventeen dollars a bowl, let's move on." "This is only ten, let's ask if bread comes with it." After lunch we go to Reykjavik 871 plus or minus 2. A museum built around the archeological site dated to 871 (plus or minus two) It was a great museum but I am museum-ed out. I go sit in the sunshine with my coat on and watch the people walking by. Louis joins me and buys me cake and coffee. Heaven. On top of the cake was a small piece of yellow fruit looking like a cherry tomato, but with a husk, like a tomatillo pulled up to the top of it in decoration. I asked several people what it was (drew a picture and I saved the husk) and no one could tell me. Helena later called her mother (a celebrated Icelandic singer and an apparent expert on garnish fruit) and found out it was a veil berry.

Next museum, the Saga Museum at Perlan. A wild place with wax figures cast from actual Icelandic folks. From Monks to Vikings to Volvur (seers of the Norsemen) they cast a vivid spectrum of Icelandic history. We walked into the museum which was a beautiful, huge, light filled building made out of four water towers which were linked by glass walls, and waited until a man dashed out of a darkened room with a broom. He apologized for having us wait, told us about the museum, said the the Volvur was his mother in law, the Icelandic princess his daughter, the slave his other daughter and he was cast for Iceland's first Viking settler. It turned out he owned the three story building, he built the museum, designed the exhibits, and now he took money in the front, (swept) and eventually took Sam's money in the gift shop. When I talked to him about his work, about how many things he did, he gave me his card, a post card of him looking a bit younger, with his name on the back, Ernst Backman, designer.

Friday June 29
Our last full day in Iceland. We started at the municipal pool and I am very jealous that I don't have a pool like it. It was huge, filled with warm water, lap lanes, a curling slide, hot pots to soak in all around...They gave us (and hopefully everyone who came through) a card of a body with the armpits, the groin and the feet circled. It said one must wash...WITHOUT A BATHING SUIT before going in the pool.
Old people go to "the baths" in the morning to soak and socialize. While we were there a number of old Icelanders were in the pool looking up at a rather round older man in a jogging suit who pantomimed actions that they were to do in the pool. The old ladies were wearing flowered hair caps and looked like round flowers gazing up at him. The leader shouted in Icelandic, waved his arms as if in water. The class followed suit. Pulling water front to back, paddling, revolving...they even patted their faces and beat their chests then let out squawks that Louis said sounded like geese landing. I was told these were Mueller exercises. Music was played over the loudspeakers that was reminiscent of 1950's Atlantic City.

We drove out to Pingveller (pronounced "Thingvetler") the center of Icelandic culture where the first general assembly came toether for the first time. We stood on law rock (Logberg) where the laws were recited before laws were recorded in writing. It was incredibly beautiful with the lake below and the black rocks jutting from the green heath. We watched geese and their goslings and ducks with their ducklings, then headed back to Reykjavik to meet Helena and Huni.

Huni met us at our guest house and we followed him to Helena's house. She had pastries(!) cheese and bread for us, and wine. We had a great time visiting and a great time helping move Huni's stuff from the moving van that happened to come while we were there, so that says much about the company. They told us there were three days in February that follow each other. Bun day in which children go into their parents' room while they sleep and strike them softly on the backside, counting. The number of times they can manage to "hit" their parent before waking them is the number of sweet buns they get to eat that day. The next day is explosion day in which they eat salted meet and beans. Enough said. The third day is Ash day in which Kids dress up, walk to the stores and sing for candies. They pin ash bags on each others' backs for a joke.
Hmmmm. I suppose some of our holidays sound really strange as well.

Our last stop was downtown Reykjavik. We wanted to see the runtur, the pub crawl which is so famous. There were a lot of people out, but it didn't seem so wild. However, the next morning at six we went out looking for a bakery (one last pastry) the downtown area looked like a burst bar: beer bottles, trash, and most importantly, drunk people, everywhere. They leaned on the bus stop sign, against buildings, peed against walls. I guess it is really wild, but maybe not getting really geared up until one or two in the morning.

Saturday, June 30
Flying away from Reykjavik, Iceland looks fragile, dark wax poured onto the Atlantic, so thin it seems the wash of waves could sink it. The water is so clear one can see the ledges under the fingers of old lava, can see the landscape of underwater, aqua green, blue green, slate. Farms dot the coast, bright with corrugated roofs, flowers lodge in the rifts of land, the borrows and canyons.

The Rest of the Trip

2007-07-02T15:40:00.000-07:00

We had trouble with our adapter and had no power for the computer. I, however, took copious notes and sketches and can finish the Iceland blog fully powered from the steelcase desk in my office.

Saturday June 23.
There has been a pattern to our days here. A day of indoor elucidation followed by a day of outdoor excursions, followed by another day of lectures. We've been very lucky with the weather. Today we went outside and sat on the front steps of Kithagil (Phonetic spellings as I don't have Icelandic letters on my keyboard) to receive our education. As we listened to papers on curatorial philosophy and Jeep culture in Iceland, Iceland stole the show. The mountains as background, a river flowing through the flat glacial cut valley, swans flew by in pairs to land and graze in the new grass.
After lunch we went inside to discuss early Icelandic views of nature, not surprisingly dominated by the sense of nature as being malevolent-volcanoes the maws of hell, blizzards whipped up by glaciers. Yet appreciation- The bard of Iceland, Jonas Halgrimsson wrote: "Thou wonderful medly of frost and fire-where fell peaks and plains, skree and oceanwaves meet-how far to new art there and wondrously dire-glaciers, fire at our feet."
Late that night, or early in the morning, after a great deal of conversation, and wine (13.00 per mini bottle of-gulp-Sutter home) with the sun still up in Icelandic June, I belted out a very messy rendition of Red River Valley on my harmonica, Chad singing along.

Sunday June 24
Louis and I went running this morning along the gravel road down to the bridge, along the river. It was good going, but coming back the wind was against us and by the time I'd returned, my arms ached with the cold, my face and legs bright red.

After breakfast ( muesli with skyr -a yogurt type product- and jam) we boarded a bus for the river heath to see ruins of an old farm. Volcanic rock foundation with turf walls. These places were often not heated, relying on the body heat of the inhabitants for warmth. It is hard to imagine spending an Icelandic winter in those conditions, the night unrelenting.
The heath was so soft in the area, the grasses hummocked and thick, it was like walking on the back of a gigantic sheep.

Next, Lake Myvatn, Midge Lake. We were lucky that the wind was brisk and we did not have to fight the midges. Further, the cold made us all the more happy when we went to the geothermic spa. We rented towels, showered and then waded into the hot water, black volcanic sand at our feet. The pool of water was considerably hotter toward the source. People situated themselves accordingly. I, predictably, stayed at the hot end, though the temperature fluctuated and every so often those of us soaking up the heat would shriek and flee a scalding stream. It was like being in the shower when someone turns the dishwasher on.

I think the combination of midges, the cold, and the steaming waters stirred something up, loosened constraints, as by the time we got back on the bus, things were getting crazy. The Brits in the back were telling jokes like, "Do you smoke after sex? I don't know, I never checked." After dinner (more Sutter Home or boxed wine the Icelanders called the cow) it only got more strange. As a tribute to Vithar and his lecture on "The Crucifiction of Sheep" several workshop participants did animals calls. One called Moose, another called the chickens, someone called the cows and I (yes) did my pig call. ("Soooooooey, pig, pig, pig", or the more Anglo Saxon, "Hey Pig, pig, pig!") That was strange enough, but then someone called "Mo-om!" Another said she pretended to be a dog when she was a child and, barking, chased a scribal scholar around the table and two professors pretended to be trees who said nothing when they were cut down by another.
Then the dancing started. Punk mosh dancing confused me (bruised me) and after getting shoved around thinking that this was some sort of Icelandic tradition, I sat down. The Icelandic punkdancer then threw the guy from Canada over her head jujitsu style and he landed flat on his back on the dance floor. He wasn't injured. Once all could see he would walk again, thought it hilarious. By the evening's end someone had been bitten, someone had passed out on the couch and someone had informed me that her husband's pet name for her was "hedgehog."

The Days are dimming

2007-06-22T03:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we went to Husavik, a fishing village with museums. Husavik is where the world (in)famous phallological museum resides. It was...interesting, however, at least among the non-human animals (no homosapien members allowed) you can pretty much say, they´re all variations on a theme, or, if you´ve seen one, you´ve seen them all. Better not to see them floating in a bottle, actually.

The high point of the day was being on the ocean, heading North (toward the sun!)whale watching. We saw humpback whales, porpoise, Minke whales, and even unbelievably huge Blue whales. They were close, as well. We could see details as the shape of the blow hole, the texture of the skin, the flexure of muscle. It was cold, but I was happy with whales, puffins, terns and friends with bottles of brandy and schnapps and lots of laughter all around. At midnight the sun was a brilliant orange at the horizon, dipping to touch the ocean for just a moment before the next day began.

2007-06-19T15:41:00.000-07:00

Tuesday
What a day! (Iceland is a place that requires lots of exclamation points.) We went out to the farthest northern farm in the world today, forded a wide river four times which traversed a arid volcanic landscape that stretched for miles, both, as one would expect, in reality, but also visually. I could see yesterday´s weather and tomorrow´s, one on the southern horizon, the other northern... We visited waterfalls, (Hrafrabjavgafoss-or Raven-saving waterfall) and saw the columnar forms that cooling magma created. Magma forms columns perpendicular to the cooling surface, so the columns that are created when lava occludes a river are practically paisley patterns atop the more usual vertical columns.

I am now full of all sorts of information about Iceland from the fact that it is actually a raised section of sea floor, to erosio(and other geologic processes)occur here at 100 fold speed because of its ''soft'' basalt make-up.

Plover eggs, house ducks, swans, midges, and pizzas and a milk cow (stolen by a troll) called Bukolla. Huni tells me the Bukolla pizza topped with steak, bernaise sauce, french fries, cheese and peppers is the best in the world and can only be found in Rejkavik. I will report if it is really worth the ''Oh, my God'' he tells me it is.
The lamb chops served at the farm, Sevakot, certainly were. Lots of piano playing now at one in the morning, the light outside barely dimmed. Bill has a whiskey bottle out, Louis a glass of wine.

Eating doubletree cookies in New York

2007-06-16T20:33:00.001-07:00

June 16, 2007

We were supposed to be in Iceland right now, or at least approaching it. Instead we are watching Saturday Night Live at the JFK Double Tree Hotel .
We got up this morning in four am darkness, took a taxi to the San Francisco airport, stood in a long line to check in, a longer line to go through security and then the flight was late. We were feeling relaxed in spite of the lateness as we had a four hour layover in NY, lots of time to spare to catch our connecting flight. Our extra four hours, however, were then eaten up by circling JFK due to inclement weather, flying to Dulles Washington to refuel because of all that circling, then flying back to JFK...We missed our Icelandic connection by minutes. I thought I might cry. It feels worse to miss something by a smidge than by a mile, somehow.
We got one of the last hotel rooms that was close, then stood for another long wait for the shuttle. As the shuttle pulled away Louis saw an old man who had also missed the Icelandic plane waving the shuttle down. Louis got the driver to stop so the man could get on. Once on the shuttle the man told me he only saw his son once a year and they were supposed to be meeting tonight in Rekyjavik. He looked tired and disappointed. We will see the man again tomorrow, I suspect, as there is only one flight to Iceland on Sundays, unfortunately not until evening. I am trying not to think about how I would've been waking up in Akureyri tomorrow, trying not to think of taking the shuttle back to the airport and how we might not get a flight from Rejkyavik to Akureyri when we finally get there. Sam is counseling us to get up early in the morning so that we can be partially adjusted to Icelandic time zone when we get there, so I guess I'd better try to get some sleep.

2007-06-15T13:48:00.000-07:00

June 15, 2007

It's just about two in the afternoon and we are all in the state one would expect less than fourteen hours before flying to Iceland. Packing isn't done, but clothes are strung all over the house and a good number of them are waiting to be washed. There are four huge bowls of apricots on the kitchen counter I picked off our tree getting softer and softer waiting for me to pit them and put them in the freezer as future chutney. I haven't found my paint, my 2nd carry-on is stuffed and I still don't have a spot for toiletries because I have so much paper-books, articles, journals, postcard list-taking up room. Louis is returning library books, Sam is exchanging coins for cash at Albertsons, and I still have to decide if I'm going to go get that rubber computer sleeve or not. When does the college bookstore close, anyway?
Still, I'm amazing relaxed for an anxious person about to go on a really long flight on a really heavy plane over the ocean. Part of it is that Jesse and Nicole will be taking care of things for us here, and part of it is that I found illustrations from a Norse Edda (alliterative poems)from Iceland on line and they are such beautiful illustrations combined with calligraphic text that I became excited all over again to go to the Icelandic institute and hear about the history, the literature, the land, the flora, the fawna from people I am imagining to be giants of their fields.
I'd better get a move on now, get ready to get to that Wyoming of the North Atlantic. Pit some apricots.
Spring

2007-06-15T11:51:00.000-07:00

Wow, Sally just set this up for me, she is a genius! I will be able to write from Iceland. let's see if this shows up