Networking

For me, it's that time of year when I have to come out of my shell--the annual writer's conference. Knees knocking I approach editors and publishers and feed them my ideas in the hope that something in my arsenal will pique their interest.

Question is: how do you keep your palms from sweating when it's time to greet them with a handshake? There must be some good advice for that. I just haven't found it yet.

And then there's the networking--getting out there to meet new people and share ideas, accomplishments, and goals. Usually, that's done over lunch or dinner and hopefully, without a piece of spinach between my teeth.

Normally I'm not that shy about meeting new people but here at the conference that new face could just be the open door for a published work.

No pressure.

Canned Oxygen

More than once I've heard my husband say, "I wish I'd have thought of bottled water." Well, now the Japanese have beat him to the punch again with canned oxygen.

Oxygen spas/bars have become popular in many places. You can sit down and inhale flavored oxygen for a few minutes and walk away refreshed and de-stressed if you believe all the hype.

Now, in Japan, at 7-Elevens you can buy a can of "flavored" oxygen--grapefruit or mint. It looks like a fat can of hairspray and has a plastic mask attached so you can fit it to your nose and mouth and not loose any precious air to the...well, air. The cost is about $5 which works out to be about 18 cents everytime you inhale.

Apparently sales are rapidly increasing which means it won't be long before it will be on the shelves of our local convenience stores.

"Two bottles of water and a can of O2 please."

More to Pond-er

Pond-ering

When we sketched out the pond for the landscapers to install, I didn't think much about its size. I wanted it large enough to put some nice plants in it and some fish. As many things in life do, it grew bigger than I planned. It is a lot of work to keep it cleaned up and the alga under control (especially this time of year).

Today I looked out the window and was greeted by a beautiful water lily bloom. Its translucent blushing pink petals were opened to the sun drinking in its warmth. What a beautiful surprise.

Hard work has its rewards.

Does God Love an Atheist?

I ran across an interesting article about Julia Sweeney, a former SNL cast member (http://marty-center.uchicago.edu/sightings/archive_2006/0525.shtml). She quit the show in 1994 to go out on her own in Los Angeles. Shortly after, a series of tragedies including the death of her younger brother caused her to question and eventually give up her faith. She had been a practicing Catholic.

At first she came out with a comedy monologue called, God Said, "Ha!", implying that God had a weird sense of humor. Then when she finally gave up on God entirely, she put together a monologue called, Letting Go of God. The article describes it this way:

Furthermore, she finds that the Bible contains no satisfactory response to her personal tragedies. In a manner at once poignant and comical, she recalls her brother's months of "unspeakable suffering," comparing them bitterly to Jesus' relatively quick death and resurrection: "Someone once said: 'Jesus had a really bad weekend for our sins.'" As the Bible study course progresses, she finds herself turning away from the "bi-polar" deity found in the Bible's "nutty stories." Finally, she accedes to a little voice inside that has been whispering, to her horror, "There is no God."

The line that bothered me was "Jesus had a really bad weekend for our sins." A bad weekend? Perhaps Sweeney is only considering physical pain. She discounts mental anguish, verbal abuse, and a broken heart. Also discounted are the three days he spent in hell. Been there lately? No, neither have I but I can't imagine the horror of that. And, what is time? I can remember an auto accident when a few seconds felt like hours as I watched the windshield splinter ever so slowly before my eyes.

But all argument over whose pain was greater, Jesus or her brother's, aside, Sweeney isn't exactly the atheist she portends to be. After all, she named the monologue, Letting Go of God. How do you let go of something you don't believe exists?

Thankfully, Jesus spent that weekend...and more...because he loves Julia Sweeney too.

Audio Books

For a long time I fought the notion of listening to a book instead of reading it. I didn't want my imagination to be tainted by the inflections of a reader, or the interpretation of the voices of characters. Then I started driving to Wheaton each year for a conference. I found it much nicer to listen to a book for six hours than to keep jiggling the seek button on my radio to tune in a station every 50 miles or so.

Now, I'm really into the audio thing. I always have a CD or tape of a book in my car. Sometimes it takes a couple of months to finish a book. (I don't do a lot of driving. I'm sort of chained to the computer at home.) I only get books that are non-fiction for driving around town. They are easier to find your place again when you haven't listened in a while. The novels I save for the long trips--like down to Columbus to visit the grandkids. I was tempted once to circle the block to finish off a good book but with those little eyes watching out for Grandma, I figured it wasn't a good idea.

I've learned to time the endings better.

DaVinci Da Choice

I've always thought of life as a series of choices. You choose to follow an occupation. You choose a spouse, where to live, how many children to have. You choose what books to read and movies to see. You choose to believe...well, whatever you believe.

I have had an unusual amount of hits recently on a previous posting from over a year ago. It was about visiting Milan and viewing DaVinci's Last Supper--before reading Brown's code. It wasn't intended to open a debate. It was posted to say merely that I enjoyed the work of art and did not look for hidden meanings. That was my choice.

These are some of the other choices I have made:

• I choose to believe the Gospels are true, written by men who walked with Jesus, saw Jesus and recorded what happened. When the Bible was put together, the criteria was that it be the earliest writings (less lost to memory) and from those closest to Jesus.
• I choose to believe God had a hand in what was written in the Bible.
• I choose, by faith, to believe in Jesus as my Savior and Lord.
• I choose, by faith, to believe that God chose to send his son, Jesus, to sacrifice himself in order to give those who believe the gift of salvation.
• I choose, by faith, to beleive that Jesus rose from the grave to show us that we can have victory in life as well as death.
• I choose to believe in that sacrificial act of love and the freedom God gives me to make those choices.
• I choose not to remain anonymous in my faith.

[Check out The DaVinci Code: The Biblical Response]

SMILE!

Microsoft Robotic Mania

This week I spent several days in Las Vegas with my husband at a conference for Microsoft's Embedded Devices. At least I think that's what it was. I don't do well with the technical stuff. I went to spend some time with him, get rid of the distractions around the house so I could concentrate on some new book ideas, and yes, to enjoy the excitement that only neon Las Vegas creates.

Wednesday night was a special dinner for the conferees and guests at Tao's restaurant and nightclub in the Venetian. The entertainment for the evening was a robotic competition. Now when you say "robots" to me, I conjure up pictures of large people-shaped metal creatures with arms and legs and a voice that says, "Danger, Will Robinson!"

Uh-Uh.

We stood on a balcony overlooking three large boxes with white rings on top of them. Men were paired off at each box and at the signal of the referee, they placed little square 8" boxes of metal parts in the ring and pushed a switch. When the program finally started running, little red lights flashed and the boxes began moving--sometimes in circles, sometimes straight for the competition. The winner was declared when his robot pushed the other robot out of the ring.

Men stood around cheering, jeering, and high-fiving. Huh?

Is this the future replacement for boxing, wrestling, and chicken fighting?

Farting Dogs and Meatball Weather

What fun to spend a day with the grandkids! We spent hours walking around the zoo having as much fun balancing on the curbs while we walked as we did in seeing the elephants and their friends. But the best part of the day was the quiet time we spent when we got back. We did my favorite thing--read.

Children's books have gone far beyond Dr. Seuss. The two good reads we did were about a farting dog that almost got sent back to the pound because of his flatulence and a town called Chewandswallow that never had to shop for food because it came from their weather every day. The dog saved himself from the pound by fending off some burglars--by farting, of course. But the townspeople had to desert their homes when their weather went haywire and gave them more than they could eat. When the weather said "Cloudy with meatballs" they ran for cover.

Ahhhh, what little imaginations will do with those stories...

Heart Blossoms

Have you been enjoying our spring this year? Are you like me and go outdoors and just breathe in the freshness that this time of year brings, especially after an April shower? It is like being set free from winter and ready for a new adventure as the garden begins to pop with color. I found a passage in Isaiah that kind of describes those feelings.

“Even the wilderness will rejoice in those days. The desert will blossom with flowers. Yes, there will be an abundance of flowers and singing and joy! The deserts will become as green as the mountains of Lebanon, as lovely as Mount Carmel’s pastures and the plain of Sharon. There the Lord will display his glory, the splendor of our God.” Isaiah 35:1-2

The mountains of Lebanon are a beautiful place, snow-capped and greened with cedar trees. Waterfalls flow down the sides of the mountain, especially in spring as the snow melts back. Imagine the burst of color when the trees bloom with their reddish 2-4 inch long catkins—the blooms that produce the cones.

As mountains go, Carmel is not very high. It sits near the Mediterranean Sea. Anemones and cyclamen grow wild on the sides of the mountain. As you look south along the coast you look over the plain of Sharon with its fertile fields fed from the cool waters that flow from the mountains. What the joy that all that blossoming must bring.

We drive across the Cuyahoga Valley to church each Sunday. It is probably the best measure of the coming of new life that the spring season brings. While in the winter it can be beautiful with a fresh snowfall, when there is no snow, it is full of barren trees and brown grasses. Everything appears dead. But as soon as the weather begins to warm and spring rains and sunshine begin to comfort those dormant plants, the valley begins to show a tint of yellow green that turns into a deeper green speckled with white and pink blossoms as plants and trees burst forth in bloom.

That’s kind of like our lives many times. We feel barren, dead, colorless. But then God shines the light of his Son on us and rains down blessings and we blossom with new life—new hope. It is there in that blossoming dessert Isaiah says, that God will display his glory and his splendor.

My lilac bushes are just about to open up and grace my yard with color and fragrance. I’ve been watching them—expectantly. If, instead of opening their buds and welcoming God’s sunshine and rain, they remained closed and dried up, the glorious color and splendid fragrance God gifted them with would never be known.

Open your heart to God’s son and accept his rain of blessings and let his glory and splendor be shown in you.

As it says in Isaiah, “The desert will blossom with flowers. Yes, there will be an abundance of flowers and singing and joy!” When our dessert flowers, our joy soars, and yes, we may even start singing.

Buy a Building Name

A recent news story told of a community that was selling the rights to name a school in their area. This buy-a-building-name craze is really spreading. What happpened to the idea that public buildings were named for people who had done something for their community, state, or country?

Our arena which is home to the Cavaliers used to be known as the Gund, named after the owner of the Cavs. I believe he helped build the place and certainly has contributed to our community. Now the fellow from Quicken Loans has bought the team and immediately the name of the arena changed to the Quicken Loan Arena. It is sheer out and out advertising--albeit expensive advertising. Every side of the building has a huge Quicken Loan sign in blazing lights. The side facing Jacobs Field (our ballpark) is prudently placed where it can be seen by most people in the stands and, when a home run is hit, stands a good chance of being seen by TV viewers.

And now we are going to sell naming rights to schools?

I would ask what's next--names for babies? But that's already been done on e-bay. Maybe we'll sell the rights to name the Washington Monument or the Empire State Building. After all, if it's all about revenue wouldn't that help add to the coffers of state and federal governments? Maybe lower taxes? Sure. Do you suppose someone would go for buying the right to name my house? I see mortgage payments disappearing with that prospect.

It will be sad to see this turn into a vanity or marketing ploy with all of our public buildings. Sad because it's a sign that we are loosing respect for the memory or appreciation of the people who never ask for anything in return when they contribute to society but are at least honored by their name being on a building or a monument or sometimes only a plaque on a wall--not even lit by lights.

T. Davis Bunn Shark Attack

When I first heard of the shark attack on T. Davis Bunn, author of the Lazarus Trap, I thought it was a joke--something to draw me into a new marketing ploy. Boy, those authors will think of anything. And then I checked it out. Sure enough, he was attacked while surfing near Melbourne, FL.

That is precisely why I would rather dive with sharks at their level than be floundering around at the surface like a wounded fish. It's an invitation to dinner.

The question that arises now is what will Davis Bunn do with this experience? As a novelist he is sure to incorporate his extraordinary encounter into his work somewhere. This is a guy who rides around in taxi cabs in New York just to get the feel for the cadence and color of a cab driver's language. As the story went at the writer's conference where he taught, he also got the lowdown on some other interesting aspects of city life and applied them to his novel.

But Bunn is also a Christian and I'm sure is thanking God for looking out for him. A hundred and twenty stitches later, I'll bet he's not thanking his lucky stars...he's thanking his Protector.

Weeding

This spring I am suffering for the lack of interest I took in cleaning out the flower beds last fall. They should have been weeded one more time before winter arrived. I remember looking at them and thinking--hoping--that winter's cold would kill them off.

Well, it didn't. Those weeds are tough old characters. As long as the roots are still in the ground, they'll grow back and twice as bad. Ask my aching legs and back.

When you're on your knees a lot (I've been at it for a week now), you begin to think about praying and other spiritual things. I couldn't help but see the analogy between the weeds I was plucking out of the ground and the weeds we let grow in our lives. If we don't keep the garden of our life weeded out, the weeds will take over and destroy the flowers and the beauty of that garden.

My sins of omission--not weeding in the fall--have certainly made my life more painful this spring. Makes me want to look and see if I've been omitting anything important in the rest of my life.

Okay, one more analogy and I'm done.

I've also been spreading weed preventer in all the beds. Hopefully when all those spring seeds from dandelions and maple trees start floating through the air they won't sprout when they land in my flower beds. Scripture reading and prayer seem like a good weed preventer for life.

Done.

Papua New Guinea

The following is a sample story from my newsletter, JOURNEYS.

“Shout our name from the mountains to seas, Papua New Guinea.” The strains of their national anthem still play in my mind. I expected a great dive adventure. I didn’t expect to fall in love.

Perhaps it was waking anchored in calm inlets to hazy purplish sunrises with the distant call of exotic birds, or looking out at the lush green islands of Milne Bay that contrasted sharply against the clear skies and deep blue waters that drew me in. Without a doubt it was meeting the wonderful people of the villages that dot the islands so far away from the usual conveniences we take for granted.

Silently the dugout canoes sliced through the water from each village as we neared. Men, women, and children in canoes congregated at the sides and back of the live-aboard with fresh fruits and vegetables to trade for staples like rice and sugar. Some displayed crafts of wood and shells to sell or trade for T-shirts. Some fished. But all watched as we came and went in our dive gear. We were the entertainment for the day.

The paradise above was magnified in the treasures below. Abundant colorful marine life in all shapes and sizes played over a patchwork quilt of brilliant corals. An abundance of lionfish, countless varieties of nudibranchs, endless fields of anemones with their guardian clownfish, and the unusual--the hairy ghost pipefish, kept us diving back in for more. On this 10 day trip, we were limited only by our ability, stamina, and common sense. (Read the rest of the story.)

News-Wordy

Okay, so it seems lately I'm doing a lot of complaining but I need to get this out. When I listen to the news on TV, I want to hear the news. Instead I hear "Coming up is..." and then there are four or five teasers which may or may not be coming up any time soon. This wastes at least a minute and a half--long enough to give me another news story.

Then there's the one that really drives me nuts. Waiting for the weather. There are two teasers in the half hour news program and at least three in the hour version and two of those promise the full report after the next commercial. After the third commercial the report is finally given.

I liken this to writing a story and rambling on and on. Good writing is tight writing especially when writing non-fiction (that's what the news is supposed to be). Readers lose interest if you promise them something and make them wait. TV viewers do too. We turn the nightly news off way before the weather finally arrives no matter how many times they promise it's coming. After all, when we get up in the morning, it will still be weather and we'll know whether the sun is shining or not.

Gas Prices--Shorter Drive Thru Lines?

This noon I stopped at Wendy's to get my son some lunch. I was going to use the drive thru. When I saw that it was wrapped around the building, I decided to go inside instead. We were through the line and back in our car before the last car made it up to the ordering box.

Now, I'm no expert on how much gas is wasted on an idling car but as the pennies, dimes, and quarters keep getting added to the price, doesn't it seem ridiculous that people would be waiting 15 minutes in a drive thru line?

As we passed McDonald's on the way home, I glanced at their drive thru line--around the building just like Wendy's.

What's it like in your neighborhood? Maybe we should do a study on drive thrus and the waste of energy sources. I'm sure the government would have some kind of grant available for that--probably even at a drive thru window.

...And Babies Were Three

Scratching and chirping continued over our heads in the dining room long after our intruder was carted off by the animal warden. With the help of our son, Bob removed the speaker in the ceiling of the room and began to pull down the insulation. It wasn't long before he pulled the first baby from the warmth and comfort of its nest. Two more followed.

Instead of the usual chicks and ducks, we were graced with three baby raccoons for Easter.

The Intruder

The animal warden arrived that afternoon to see if she could determine what was in the attic. The minute we mention chirping sounds, her face clouded. The consensus was that we had a raccoon in the attic and she probably had babies. Apparently baby raccoons sound a lot like baby birds.

We set the box trap in the attic and baited it with some cat food. The warden assured us that we would know when we had caught our intruder. Well, we didn't hear much that evening and when Bob checked in the morning, the trap was empty--the food was gone!

Clearly we were dealing with a clever raccoon.

Undaunted, Bob bought some more cat food--two varieties--and reset the trap adding a bowl of water and wiring the bait to the cage.

His efforts were rewarded. The next morning two beady eyes blinked at him when he inspected the trap. He left his trophy catch on the porch for the animal warden and went off to work. Her report came back that indeed the raccoon was a female and she was obviously nursing babies.

The trap sits in the attic awaiting some hungry babies. If they don't show up, they will be routed from their nest this weekend. Usually kids get chicks and ducklings for Easter. Looks like we get raccoons. Stay tuned.

More Noises

The scratching was incessant in the evening. During the day there was only an occassional shuffle. Whatever was between the floors was nocturnal. That began to narrow things down. Mice? A raccoon? A skunk?

A skunk was frightening to think about. That could mean de-stinking the whole house if it let loose when cornered. A raccoon is destructive as are mice.

Bob opted for mice and set a couple of traps with his favorite bait--peanut butter. In the middle of watching our favorite shows we had TiVoed while gone, we heard a horrible clunking sound that seemed to run the length of the dining room. Something was in a trap and it was desparately trying to get out. And that something was BIG and angry. Rule out mice.

"Call someone," I began to chant. We have an animal warden and there are other pest control people. "Call someone."

Bob just kept shaking his head. "What could it be? What could it be?"

"Whatever it is, it's big and mad. Call someone."

He went to work the next day and, sure enough, the consensus at work was that he should call someone. He contacted the animal warden for our city and set up an appointment. At four, we would get an expert's opinion on what was in attic.