Thursday, April 17, 2008

Sweep the Porch Clean

I just came in from the porch. There has been a deluge. I won't know until tomorrow if the grass seed we so lovingly sowed two days ago has again washed into the street to grow tufts of rye in the organic matter left by the live oak trees that shed volumes.

We just want grass. We cut back the tree limbs to give some view of sunlight. We fertilize. Our soil is so bad. Two days ago, James and Mark and I attacked the concrete hard bare patches. Mark shoveled in the rich compost of the live oaks that have built up in the flower beds. We attacked the dirt/concrete with small shovels and a vigor and mixed in rich soil and hopeful seed.

We mostly had St. Augustine until a drought and shade wrought havoc. We fight because our soil is so poor. Our neighborhood has nice little finials on the street signs that say "White Rock Village" and there is a graphic of an airplane. We live smack dab on the former turf runway of the White Rock Airport. Our house is located now almost dead center of that photograph. I wonder if the soil is polluted by having airplanes wandering up and down for 30 years. I'm wondering at this point why the live oaks planted by Fox and Jacobs 30+ years ago seem to prosper. There are a great lot of them and the result is that we have a very shady street. Sadly, our house is at one of the lower spots and when the rains come every one else's leaves gather in front of my house. It gets a little deep at times. We have shovels that we use to muck out. I've thought of starting a live oak leaf compost heap up against the house, but I'm afraid that the house would be soon covered and begin to creak and fall against the volume.

All I want is grass. (sigh)

I sit on the porch and I read. I reach out beyond the comfort of books that I know and love and want to read again. And again. So I stretch and I find. .. other things.

I am commended to good wifely behavior by book #20 of 2008. Storm Clouds over Party Shoes is artful and sarcastic and a slap in the face or on the behind.

The author is an artist and seems to be a very nice woman as she responded almost immediately when I emailed her and told her I liked her book and that I thought her art was thought-provoking.

I was stunned that she wrote me back so quickly, so I sent her a link to my review and she came back with an even nicer note and was very friendly.

I like writing the book reviews, it's an exercise in consumerism. I've had very friendly conversations with several of the authors that I've reviewed and found them to be such nice people. I also got a response today from the author of "Pledged" that I read earlier in the year. It was a very sweet note.

My friend Amy today said I should even send bad reviews to authors. I'm not as enthused about that. I don't want to be personally mean to them. I'm happy to write to folks that I admire to let them know that I enjoy their work, but it just seems kind of nasty to write to someone and say, well, "Hi, how are you, I read your book and I think it SUCKED."

I really did like "Storm Clouds" mostly for the art. It's more a compilation of art images than actual text from the author. She's using text to make a point with her artwork. I am very fond of text as I obviously love to write, but I also LOVE to WRITE, I mean with crow quill nibs and chisel nibs to create artful letters and words. I appreciate someone who combines images with text.

I didn't have to beat anyone up today although yesterday I ended up chasing a very big boy. I DID happen to have a broom in my hand and he acted like I was threatening him with it. I was sweeping my porch at school when he acted like a fool and I didn't want to set the broom down because I didn't want it stolen. I suppose it might have looked funny for me to trail this buffoon across campus with a broom in my hand, but it's a GOOD broom and I don't want to lose it.

The jerk yelled at me and said I was only picking on him because he was black. I went off and told him he was racist and shouldn't be talking about my family. He looked totally confused at that point and then tried to tell the security guards that I tried to beat him up with the broom. They told him to shut the eff up and handed me a referral form to fill out. I think they were a bit leary of the broom, but hey, sometimes they have to do things to make crazy white women happy.

Sweep the porch clean I say.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Rude Tales and Glorious #19

I should have known that any author willing to satirize Chaucer and Arthurian Legend in one fell swoop would share my zodiac sign.

I finished this afternoon Rude Tales and Glorious by "Nicholas Seare"

I tell my students that if one of their answers makes me laugh out loud that I will give them a giggle point. Some of them push their essays to the limit in the effort to wrangle a giggle point. How ridiculous can one be when describing Gothic architecture? They try and sometimes they succeed.

Rude Tales makes me laugh so hard, I almost have an unfortunate bladder response.

The author was a college professor who wrote under several pseudonyms. Another notable work was The Eiger Sanction which he wrote as "Trevanian." The man behind the mystery was Dr. Rodney William Whitaker. I wish I'd known this fellow. I would shake his hand for having so much gall.

"Rude Tales" centers around the hall of a Welsh baron who is bored with the lack of good storytelling found at his hearth and hall. The old priest has gone away and the new one seems good for very little (other than the shriving of women folk in private chambers).

There is a skritching at the door. The wind wails outside. It's cold and dreary. Through the peephole a servant spies a hag. He describes her as foul and loathsome. Wanting to verify the information the Baron peeps himself and says "Aye, tis a hag." He would return to his meal when the priest reminds him of his Christian duty to be kind and with some fuss the Baron admits the hag to the hall with the instruction that she be kept in the corner.

A moan occurs at the door and a pile of rags is there. A noxious old gentleman is found to inhabit the rags and at the priest's urging is admitted. Stripped of the rags, he is given a cheese rind to gird his loins.

As the Baron complains of the lack of entertainment, the entertainment begins. The odious visitors reveal that they are in fact Lancelot and Elaine. They have been bewitched and cursed to wander in a foul state. To earn their supper, they regale the company with bawdy and lusty tales. Some of these tales have some familiarity to a well-read person. They take familiar tales and render them in a very "earthy" fashion.

This is amusing stuff for lit geeks. I must be one!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I'm making a mess. There's a reason for it.

I've been really good this year. I've not smoked in the house even one time. I've sat on the porch and frozen my hoohah off for the sake of nicotine.

I must say it has been more pleasant the last few weeks. The weather has been fine, although still cool. I've watched spring erupt in my neighborhood and seen more of the neighbors than I want.

I told Mark that I needed a small table to set my coffee cup/water/beer on while I read and smoke. We wandered around to garage sales the last few weeks and we've found everything but a small table to my liking. I really am NOT that picky. I guess the tables have just been sold out or put to other uses.

Yesterday when he picks me up from school, he tells me he has a surprise. This is also a relative thing. Some surprises are good, some are not so good. This one has potential.

He was wandering around the neighborhood. It's "bulky trash" week and he found a night stand in someone's trash pile. Actually there were two, but he fished out the best one and picked out the two best drawers and there it was on my porch when I got home. It's very dated. I'm thinking it was prefab rent to own stuff from the eighties. It was white and the drawers are in good shape and clean. I peeled off some of the gold trim. I had an artist moment and immediately got out the acrylic paint.

It's not white any more. I have committed bizarre color and design upon it. My artistic talents lean toward the monochromatic arts. Jewelry can be totally without color. My drawings are strongest in pen and ink. My color sense involves the spectrum. I've fished out some books with cool pictures in them and I'm going to commit decoupage on this chest as well. I've got a case of spar varnish, so after I get it the way I want it I'm going to shellac the thing into place.

It's really fun. I'll take a picture of it soon and show the progress. Garish would be a kind thing to say about it. My mind reels as I think about what I'm going to attach to this thing.

Meanwhile, I can set my coffee on it. Coffee rings would only add to its charm at this point.

I better get to the varnish soon before it warms up much more and I have to pick the gnats out of it.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

17 and 18 Blowing Through - Prequels and Paddlings

I picked up New Spring by Robert Jordan at Dollar Tree for a dollar. It's a first edition first printing hardback. Boy howdy!

This book is the prequel to a very long series that I first started reading at least ten years ago. I ran through it pretty fast as this was not a new world to me, I am well acquainted with this place and these people.

This book is a "back story" meant to give some more understanding of several of the characters. I enjoyed it as I've enjoyed all of the books, but I kind of wonder what the point is, as the main character that is developed is fairly long dead in the series.

I don't know for certain, but I get the impression that there are supposed to be several of these prequels, but the problem is that the author died recently. The last book in the series was not finished, so I'm not certain there will ever be resolution that is satisfactory.

Ahem. Book 18 is The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice writing as A. N. Roquelaure.

I've read everything that she's written as Anne Rice and I've heard of this story as her effort to delve into erotica. Published in 1983, this is pretty racy stuff. It's well written (Rice is an engaging writer as always) but I'm not sure if I liked it. I would say that it is mostly painful. I cringed throughout but I kept on reading. I don't know if I could handle reading any more of this stuff, but I'll pick up the next one at the first available opportunity.

Kinky would be a mild description of this book. If you like spankings, this is the book for YOU.