Cyber Schizophrenia

In spite of having a website and a blog and a truly amazing proficiency at email, I remain a cyber Luddite -- which could be diagnosed as cyber schizophrenia.


At the recent Northern Colorado Writers conference, I learned (again) the importance of having a cyber ‘presence’ – and that it was essential to actively utilize many internet avenues in order for Google to recognize you as being ‘important.’


Who made Google the arbiter of importance?


We all did, I guess. Or at least all those under the age of 20 or maybe 30. Which I am not.


I have a Facebook page, which I don’t know how to use. I recently signed up for both Twitter and Linkedin – neither of which I understand.


But I have to.


My memoir, Tree Lines (with an as-yet-to-be-determined subtitle) is being published. It should be out by September. If I am to properly promote my first-ever published book, I must utilize all cyber channels effectively.


There is only one thing for me to do. I must enlist the assistance of some amazingly tolerant person under the age of 20 to teach me how.


And so I will --- because Tree Lines is a terrific book and I think many people should buy it. And because, for Pete’s sake, it is high time I got with it.


Wish me luck.

A Spring Thing

People get excited about Spring.


I get excited about Spring.


There is something magic about the seeping of green into lawns,


The thousand, thousand leaf spears thrusting through the gray-brown earth,


The dots of color – mostly blue and yellow – so bright, so welcome,


And, above all, the haze of embryonic leaves that clings to tree branches.


All of these are reminders of the power of Life.


It is Life returning—no, not returning, it never left.


It is Life becoming more apparent.


Embrace the pastel haze of Spring.


Celebrate the return of colors, all colors – pastel and bold.


Life is a mosaic kaleidoscope—a dazzling process in which each of us can dance.


So dance.

On the Precipice

March is a strange month.


Today the temperature may reach close to 80. Tulip and iris leaves pierce the soil. Early crocuses explode yellow. I’ve even seen a daffodil blooming.


But it is March in Colorado, a time when the weather teeters on the precipice of a new season -- all too vulnerable to plummeting back into frigidness.


I will walk in the sunshine, absorbing the warmth and Vitamin D – enjoying what may only be temporary, for as long as it lasts.


But I am a realist.


All winter, the footwear sitting by my front door has included one pair of snow boots, one pair of sneakers, and one pair of black shoes to wear with slacks (when I dress up).


All of these will stay. I’m just adding one pair of sandals.


[I’ll put the boots away next month.]

Interesting Legacy

I still miss Jayne (my sister-in-law who died Monday, Oct. 17, 2011).

It’s interesting to note what things bring her to heart and mind.

• The gold throw in my TV room that somehow goes perfectly with the sort of orange walls and under which I snuggle to read or watch The Daily Show.

• The garden ornaments she gave me: the glass flower, the little metal dragonfly, and the spinning rainbow flower.

• The little teapot and cups that she gave me when I still lived in Chicago.

• The pillar candle decorated in Japanese-style artwork featuring a beautiful white crane. (I keep it on the plant stand in my entry way.)

• And Mexican food.

I never liked Mexican food before Jayne died. But almost every time I was with her husband or sons or daughter-in-law or granddaughters during the whole process of her dying and her funeral and the holidays that followed, we seemed to wind up having Mexican food. I began to develop a taste for it.


Yesterday, on my own, when I had all kinds of options, I deliberately went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch. I ordered something I had never before eaten. And I enjoyed it.


In memory of Jayne.

It is STILL February

Some delusions are acceptable

It’s getting louder outside. Every time I take a walk, there seems to be more birdsong.

The snow having momentarily receded, I can actually see most of my lawn.

When the temperatures rise above 40, it is easy to pretend that spring has arrived.

But that is only an illusion. It is STILL February.

It’s okay for me to be deluded. I can always find my boots.

It’s okay for the birds to be deluded. Feathers are great insulators.

But is not acceptable for my tulips and iris and other bulb-based plants to stick their shoots up through the ground.

It is STILL February. Go back, plants! Cuddle down into the soil and wait a few weeks. Please.

I miss you. I want you to bloom and flourish. When it’s time.

Just wait.

The Spring Equinox arrives March 20. Just three weeks away.

It is STILL February (annoyingly, it will still be February tomorrow). Find someplace warm and stay there.

Please.

Wearing Red

I’m wearing red today. Sort of because it’s Valentine’s Day and I suppose I ought to do something to acknowledge that fact.

I am loved, in a hairy kind of way. This morning, Guinness walked over my sleeping form and wedged himself on my right side where he purred his gratitude for my drowsy strokes. Several minutes later, Herbie showed up – walking, like his brother, over my no-longer-sleeping form. When he figured out there was no room on my right side, he snuggled close to my left side. I was pinned by purring felines. There was, literally, no way for me to move without dislodging a cat.

For a while, it was quite pleasant. But the clock’s hands kept moving and my bodily functions began signaling their needs to function. Being a cat sandwich was getting uncomfortable.

I freed an arm and tried to entice movement with one of the cat toys on the bed. They seemed appreciative, but unmoved.

Finally, Guinness stood. And I stood and proceeded to the bathroom. Herbie stayed snuggled on the comforter.

So I wore a red turtleneck for Valentine’s Day but tempered it by also donning a plaid shirt. Everyone knows there is nothing romantic about plaid.

It was the best compromise I could come up. And now both turtleneck and shirt are strewn with cat hair.

Ah well.

One Book - One Cold - One Cure

Here’s a story about a book.

The book is Possession/ A Romance by A.S. Byatt. It was recommended to me by a good and extremely literate friend. I bought it about six months ago and started reading it – slogging my way through almost half of it before giving up.

Then, last weekend I came down with a classic, and classically debilitating, head cold. Even with a slew of cold remedies, my body demanded rest. But I do not like to rest and do nothing so I picked up Possession again.

I started from the beginning. What slogging? It was fascinating. Complicated, yes. Rich in language and plot, yes. But not slog-ish. Not by any means.

One of the promotional ‘blurbs’ at the front of the book called it “a one-woman variety show of literary styles and types.” No kidding. Each of the main characters, and a few of the minor characters – whether from 1989 or 1859 – writes things (poetry, essays, journals, and amazingly long letters). And all of these writings are woven into the narrative--verbatim.

As a sort of preface, the author quotes Nathaniel Hawthorne’s preface to The House of the Seven Gables: “When a writer calls his work a Romance, it need hardly be observed that he wishes to claim a certain latitude … which he would not have felt himself entitled to assume, had he professed to be writing a Novel… The point of view in which this tale comes under the Romantic definition lies in the attempt to connect a bygone time with the very present …”

‘Latitude’ yes, and in Possession, surely longitude as well. Wow! Once (finally) engaged, I could not stop until I had read the very last word on the very last page (555).

I was now in the fourth day of my head cold and recovering. Thanks, in no small measure, to an extraordinary book. Now that's a happy ending.