Going Postal

There are four guitars in our house.  Why?  Because none of them plays quite right.  (Turns out I’m tone deaf.)

There are six cameras in our house.  Why?  Because none of them sees quite right.  (Turns out I have a contrast problem with my eyes.  I’d taken every camera I bought back to the retailer complaining before I figured this out.)

Just the other day I was ready to go postal on an equine supply company that shipped us vaccines.  Why?  The vaccine vial turned over in the fridge and caused a big mess.  Not to mention that vaccines are terribly expensive.

I was ready to pounce on the company about the defective seal on the vaccine vial, but due to extreme fatigue I put it off for another day.  Good thing, because a fresh morning revealed that the vaccine vial was intact.  What had actually happened was that the box wine valve had pressed up against the milk when the fridge door was closed, and sticky Chillable Red wine (AKA “spilled vaccine”) was everywhere.

I’ve discovered that most of my “road rage” type moments occur when I’m tired and spent, and my immediate reaction is to blame someone else.  Might be time to take a deep breath and a moment, and be accountable for myself.  But then again, why do that when I can blame you? J

What is it in your life that you’re not getting quite right?  And are you blaming it on someone else?  (I think my husband can attest to my prowess at this…)

Feel free to share accounts of your own blaming moments.  I’d love to hear them.

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com
http://writerattheranch.com

Digging Up Bones

A dear family friend visited last week, and our conversations always help me sift through my past.  Her visit coincided with a nagging desire to try to unearth some history about the tiny farming community in Middle Tennessee that we now call home.

Our town has a population of approximately 1500, which is spread over a wide area since the community is rural and mostly agricultural.  What I call our “downtown” is three abandoned buildings by the railroad tracks.

Living here is peaceful and people are remarkably friendly.  Recently an older couple stopped their truck next to mine as I was driving down the road.  Not recognizing them and thinking they needed directions, I rolled down my window and smiled.  We exchanged pleasantries and then there was silence for what, to me, seemed like a long time.  Then the lady said, “Nice to meet you!” and they drove off.  I finally realized that they were just saying hello, and wanted nothing.  After living in bigger towns and cities, this still stuns me.

Some neighboring towns have town squares and even have public archives, but not mine.  A visit to The Smith County Museum yielded a short history of my town, and indicated that the three buildings were a bank, a farm hardware store, and a livery stable.  My town’s history is tied to the railroad lines, and has always been agriculturally based.

The museum staff suggested that I talk to some of the older residents for more history, and they were willing to provide me with a list.  This was a start, but I kept wondering what would happen when these people died.  History can be lost so quickly.

My visitor likes to photograph old cemeteries, so we spent a lot of time doing that.  I found these moments incredibly peaceful and soul-stirring at the same time.  I kept thinking about the importance of connecting the past to the present.  I plan to do some research on the most common names that kept popping up in our local graveyards.

Perhaps because I have been recently transplanted, a sense of where I am now has become very important to me.  How do you set down roots without good dirt, anyway?  You need something to adhere to if you are to grow.  I could grow anyway, apart from my community.  But that seems empty and stale at best.  So I’m out digging up bones.

I would love to hear more about how you’ve connected with your own community’s past.  Please feel free to post your comments.

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://www.writerattheranch.com/
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com

Geronimo-ing: Or Why I Write

Geronimo!  Originally the name of an outrageously brave Apache warrior, the word has evolved into a battle cry in the face of reckless danger.  Geronimo is what outlaws yell in Westerns as they plunge over the side of a cliff on horseback—unaware of what lurks on the other side.

This kind of explains how I feel about writing my first mystery novel.  Aside from trying to figure out how in the heck to put the plot together and plant the appropriate clues, I also don’t know what’s next.  Novel #2?  A different genre maybe?  More magazine articles and blogging?  These questions may sound trivial, but I'm trying to build a career with no set path, and failure is not an option.

In this case the beauty of the non-plan seems to be the unknowns.  My writing is evolving, as is my life, and all that evolution brings about a new being—a new sense of who I am.  Perhaps that is what I love best about the craft of writing.  Every time I sit down to write, I bring more to the table.  Or maybe the table brings more to me?  Regardless, there is a certain headiness in knowing that I will be fuller, richer, and more grounded simply by writing.  It’s like being paid twice.

I can’t think of a single occupation that has been as transformational for me as writing.  Even when writing about something I'm already familiar with, I come away a changed person.  There is something wonderfully fluid about ink gliding across paper, or even fingers pausing above the keyboard, pregnant with hesitation.  A thought is captured, a phrase is turned, a word is penned.  See all the movement?  When things move they can’t stay the same, and neither can I.  It’s worth the Geronimo!

I would love to hear about the kinds of things that are transformational for you.  Please feel free to share a comment.  Thanks for reading my blog posts, and if you enjoy them, will you consider subscribing?

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch

Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://www.writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com

Awww, HAIL! Or What Happens When an Ordinary Evening Isn't

Wednesday night looked to be an ordinary evening at home.  But that all changed when my husband called to warn me that a tornado was headed right for our little farming community.  I immediately turned on the TV to monitor the weather.  Our tiny town was circled on the radar map and the weather woman announced that “it was coming right…,” and then the satellite cut out. 

I saw a funnel cloud about the same time that my two dogs got uncharacteristically upset about the sudden storm.  As the 1.5 inch hail started they both herded me into the middle of our home, where we even hunkered down with two cats!

The satellite signal didn’t return until the storm was over, but fortunately my husband and the two dogs had convinced me to seek shelter.  Seeing the funnel cloud had helped a bit, too!  When I could finally hear that it was safe to come out, I assessed the damage.

At first it just looked like typical wind damage:  some rearranged porch furniture, overturned trash, and hail on the deck.  I went outside to right the furniture and left my shoes inside so I wouldn’t get them wet and track water back into the house.  I walked barefoot across what I thought was hail and suddenly found myself screaming.  It was broken glass and now I was picking small pieces of it out of my feet.  Our storm door had shattered (love the irony) and I was amazed by how many tiny pieces were now embedded in the deck.

Since this door is the main one we use and the dogs would need to go out soon, I began to clean up the glass.  After a few minutes of sweeping I stretched my neck and suddenly saw donkeys in our driveway.  (We raise Miniature Donkeys so this was not as unusual as it sounds, but they were in the driveway and not in their pasture.)  Plus, I could see that the driveway gate had blown open.  So I tore off down the driveway hoping I could make it to the gate before the donkeys did.  I was successful, but pulled a muscle in my leg in the process.  Now hobbling, I opened another pasture gate and tried to shoe the donkeys in.  I had four of the thirteen loose donkeys going in and more were following.  But our lovely Miniature Horse who loves to cause commotion came charging down the hill, and she and the donkeys came running back out.  Now I had thirteen loose donkeys and one loose Miniature Horse.

Meanwhile my husband has arrived home after a hideous hail-filled commute from Nashville.  He pulls into the driveway and sees me chasing the donkeys and the mini-horse.  After an update, I advise him to be careful of all the glass on his way in the house.  He changes clothes and quickly rejoins me and we round up the herd in the rain and lightning.

This photo courtesy of Caryn Hjelmstad

After they’re all safe we head back to the house only to discover that the nervous pups have chewed through surround sound wires, upset a potted plant and tracked potting soil through the carpet, and peed in several locations.  To boot, we are two hours late in feeding them and they need to go outside through the area buried in glass.

At 9:30 p.m. we took a break and finally sat down to dinner.  (Thankfully I had dinner in the crockpot since I thought this was going to be a typical evening.)  Fortified by chicken and chardonnay, we shop-vacced the glass and cleaned the dog damage.  Not long after, we tumbled into bed, exhausted and shaken.

I’m grateful that our experience wasn’t worse and know that we were lucky.  We’ve been through several tornadoes and sustained damage in most of them during our years in Tennessee.  But for some reason this incident was scarier for me and resulted in a totally out of control sensation.  Feeling that vulnerable is quite humbling.

I’d love to hear about your own experience with tornadoes and how you coped, or didn’t.  Please feel free to leave a comment.  And thanks for reading my blog post!

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch

Making You Look Brilliant One Word At a Time
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com
http://writerattheranch.com

Zudy Mae and the Art of Interruption

Synchronicity is running rampant in my life right now, so I was not surprised when we found the pup of our dreams on Tuesday, after looking for some time.  We were seeking a playmate for our fifteen month old Newfoundland (NEWFus).  And we ended up adopting a three month old Weimeraner pup who we named Zudy Mae (thanks to Debbie McDowell Oberdorf for the name suggestion).

Having gone through the whole puppy experience less than a year ago, I was prepared for the chaos and upheaval in our household.  But for some reason, this experience has been a little different.  There is plenty of chaos, mind you.  NEWFus runs Zudy Mae down constantly and sits on her like a Sumo wrestler. 

Not being the perfect pack leader, I have gone hoarse from yelling at him to get off of her.  (I’ve also pulled him off plenty of times, but he is the size of a small horse and twice as strong.  And yelling seems to be more therapeutic.)  There is a constant race around our kitchen island as the small pup tries to outrun the giant and find a low place from which to wage her return battle.  I’ve spilled my coffee, been knocked off my feet, and been hit in the head by the storm door while trying to get at least one of them outside.

But back to the point.  I’ve actually found all the interruptions helpful to my writing.  Ideas are flying in just as the pup broadsides me in the backyard while sailing through the air with a leaf in her mouth.  Watching her romp has reminded me of the need for play in my own life.  She’s a very serious little dog, but she knows how to cut loose.  I’m in serious mode also, trying to finish my first novel.  I could use more of that cutting loose stuff.

When I’ve been sitting too long doing tedious editing, Zudy Mae wakes up from her nap and I’m forced to get my butt out of the chair and go outside.  Once I get there, my mind relaxes and I see things in a different way.  My plots come together, my characters get more interesting, and my words dance more freely.  She’s also rebuilding my confidence, because if I can manage these two dogs all day while my husband is at work, I can do absolutely anything.

Zudy Mae is teaching me that interruptions are good, necessary even.  And maybe, just maybe, interruptions are what life is all about.  It certainly seems to be where some of the good stuff comes from.  As John Lennon said, “Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans.”  I wish you many interruptions, and I’d love to hear how you feel about them…

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://www.writerattheranch.com/
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com



American Idol And Personal Destiny

When did American Idol become the only path to singing stardom?  Whiners, criers, and freaker-outers, please go home and sing.  Do you not understand the odds?  Only one American Idol is chosen, and there are thousands of contestants.  What boggles my mind is the seeming total lack of comprehension that we are all in charge of our own destiny.  You could even WIN American Idol, and still not become rich or particularly famous or even happy.

You want to sing?  Sing.  Practice until it hurts.  If the desire, the talent, and the drive are there, you will eventually become a professional singer.  Why are you giving your power away?  No one else decides if you will become a professional performer.  YOU decide.

I understand that you may be terribly disappointed not to make the top 100, the top 24, or the final 12.  But judging and performances are just moments in time, capsules of how you sound and how they feel on any particular day. 

If you truly bombed, go home and practice harder.  There are no flawless performers and every day is a fresh start.

But please don’t whine. 

You have an incredible opportunity to experience what it is like to be a top performer.  Listen and learn, and take that knowledge with you.  Besides, there are lots of record labels that promote performers who don’t necessarily rank the highest.  And you may go home to a routine gig and find that there’s a record producer in the audience who decides you are worth promoting.

But always, always promote and believe in yourself.  And keep it positive.  Audiences like to watch performers who seem to have it together-- whether you actually do or not is immaterial.

I would love to hear your opinion about what I’ve written here, whether you agree with me or think I'm a crazed writer wannabe.  Please feel free to leave a comment.  And thanks for your time.

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://www.writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com



On Having a Nice Rest of the Day

Of course there are many issues in the world right now that are much more important, but I’m sorry to say that I’m obsessed with this single phrase:  “Have a nice rest of the day!”  I hear it almost everywhere I go, and every time it makes me cringe and makes me angry.  And why is it so button-pushing, you may ask?  To me, it feels lazy and disrespectful—two traits that tax my tolerance to the limit.

I mean, is the day running out?  “Rest of the day” sounds so time-limited.  Makes me think of sand fleeing the hourglass.  And I even hear it early in the day.  We’re all harried, and we don’t need to be reminded that the hours are escaping.  What’s wrong with “Have a great afternoon!," or even, “Have a good day!”  I can also put up with “Have a nice day!”  Sounds just lovely when compared to “Have a nice rest of the day!”  Or just forget about the day altogether if its’ so dang hard.  A genuine “Thanks for shopping with us!”  or “Hope we see you again soon!”  will get you lots of points in my book.

Manners and respect go hand in hand, and being mannerly is one of the hallmarks of true customer service.  Granted, I had a grandmother who would threaten me within an inch of my life over mannerly indiscretions and I’m more sensitive than most.  But even if you’re a confirmed finishing school dropout, you can take a few seconds to put together a proper greeting and a proper goodbye--especially in a customer service setting.  That’s an important part of being human.

More aware than ever that the clock is ticking, I’ll stop ranting.  I need to go have a nice “rest of the day!”  And if you thank me for my post, I promise not to say, “No problem!”  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Marianne Smith
Writer At The Ranch
http://www.writerattheranch.com/
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com