Letters From New England

Vacation and workshop and birthday...oh my!

Friday (boohoo)

October 24, 2008

Hi,

It's hardly ever a "boohoo" Friday, but today is the last day of my vacation from work.  FLEW by, ya know?  I had a nice week...the weather was almost cooperative.  It rained while I was at Beth's cottage on the pond, but I didn't mind.  There's a small wood stove set into the fireplace and that made it cozy and toasty.  I read a 500+ page book cover to cover, but didn't do much writing.  Burned out from the workshop maybe?  I dunno.  I wrote for awhile yesterday in my fave cafe, Jumpin' Juice and Java.

The workshop...what can I say?  It was great to meet Natalie Goldberg and spend hours writing with her.  I was disappointed that Kripalu allowed so many people to sign up...really didn't expect that at all.  I'm sure there were 100 or more.  I had a vision (this is what happens with expectations, eh?) of a small group of dedicated memoirists (is that a word?) sitting together and writing in group to Goldberg's prompts.  It didn't happen anything like that. 

She brought an assistant/friend with her.  Rob Wilder is hilariously witty.  I bought one of his books (Daddy Needs a Drink ~ essays on parenting, which is a scream!).  On Saturday, they split the group in 2.  Half went outside to "slow walk" (meditation type walking) with Natalie and the other half stayed in and wrote with Rob, then we switched.  Rob had us do short "sprints, tossing us a new topic every 2 minutes.  Without knowing in advance what the topic was, and having only 2 minutes to write, your mind got to the "meat" right off the bat.  I enjoyed that the most, I think, even though my hand was aching from writing so much so quickly.

Other prompts were offered throughout the weekend, then we broke into groups of 4 or 5 and read to each other.  No critique...just read and write, read and write.  Having had permission from Natalie to write the "worst shit in the world" and know that what I read wouldn't be critiqued by the group, gave me a sense of freedom to just let whatever wanted to be said drip out of the pen and onto the paper.  I brought the Waterman fountain pen my son gave me years ago.  Filled the converter with my Bahama Blue ink before I left.  It went dry early on Saturday.  Oddly enough, I had a Bic rollerball in my sack that had an ink in it so close to the Bahama Blue you would barely tell where one ended and the other began.

When we weren't in class, you could see groups of us around the sitting areas and filling the tables in the cafe to read/write on the "homework" we got.  I thought I'd use some of the "down time" to take a yoga class, but it never happened.  If I wasn't writing, I was reading her books.  I also brought a beading project with me for "relaxation", so I did that for a bit as well.

Kripalu is a great place...sits high in the Berkshires, overlooking Lake Mahkeenac.  The view is phenomenal no matter what season it is, but breathtaking in autumn.  Use this link to get some info and see a few photos.  Also, check out the recipe section.  The food is organic and delish!

http://www.kripalu.org/about_us/7

I'd love to go back for a Retreat & Renewal program.  No workshop...you just choose when you will go and create your own experience when you get there from the many fantastic programs and classes they offer on an on-going basis.  I may do that sometime during the winter...after the new year.  The eclectic group of people who go there is amazing to see.  No judgement, no dress code.  Just people being who they are.  It's wonderfully freeing.

Speaking of "new year"...it's official.  As of 3:50 yesterday afternoon, I am beginning my 57th trip around the sun.  And, if you'll recall, I said that I was making this year ALL ABOUT ME.  Getting healthy, doing things I WANT to do instead of things I don't want to do just because I feel obligated.  More writing, more reading, more learning.  Maybe a class at the local college, maybe another trip to Kripalu, maybe a train ride across country.  We'll see...

I have to go...really.  It's 11:30 and I'm still in my jammies (wait!  I'm on vacation!).  But, seriously, I want to get some things done here, go to JJ&J for lunch and stop at the library.  I'm meeting Linda for a margarita after she gets out of work today.  OH!  She, Judy and I are going to Pickity Place for lunch tomorrow!  Check them out:  http://www.pickityplace.com/

Peace,

Kay

V~A~C~A~T~I~O~N!

Friday

October 17, 2008

Hi,

As of 4:30 yesterday afternoon, I am officially on vacation.  Woohoooo!!!  At 2 PM today, I will be on my way to the Berkshire Mtns/Stockbridge, MA for a weekend memoir writing workshop with Natalie Goldberg.  I've been anxiously awaiting this workshop since I registered for it a couple of months ago.

On Monday, I have to get my license renewed and take care of a few other errands because from Tue to Thu, I will be at my friend's camp (and when I say camp, I mean little cabin in the woods on a pond) where there is no t.v., no phone, no computer!  I hope to get a lot of writing and reading done while I'm there.

In other news, I adopted a kitten from a rescue center in Maine last weekend.  She is not ready to be released yet...still too young, but I believe I will have her in a couple of weeks.  The adoption fee is $75, but she will be tested for feline leukemia, spayed and had all of her shots when I get her.  She is all black and has green eyes.  Her foster family named her Midnight, but when I get her, she will be Bella.

I didn't watch the debate this week.  It makes me very anxious and I assumed it would be more of the same.  I just can't handle any more of McCain's sarcastic, sneering behavior.  People who are still on the fence about who to vote for should do as much reading about each candidate as they can.  To opt out of voting at all only leaves you at the mercy of those who do.  Please make an informed decision.

Here are a couple of links that have come my way over the last week or so.  Feel free to read or not, because you know they are biased against McCain. :)

http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/23316912/makebelieve_maverick/

http://www.jedreport.com/shipjumpers/

http://www.barackobama.com/issues/

I'm off to clean my car, pick up my apartment a bit, pack, shower and get outta Dodge.  Have a great weekend!

Peace,

Kay

Check the facts...

Wednesday

October 8, 2008

Hi,

Before I paste in the findings from the "fact checker", which I've read after each debate because, well... we ARE dealing with politicians here.  Anyway, before I paste the article, I just have to say one thing about the debate last night.

"That One" had to be the most inconsiderate, childish, arrogant thing to come out of McCain's mouth since he started campaigning.  "That one"?  How incredibly rude.  Then he ended the show by walking away instead of shaking Obama's hand.  He's an asswipe.

They BOTH distorted the truth, and neither said anything new.  Impressively boring, but the polls today show Obama ahead again.

Here are some facts, if you'd care to read them:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/debate_fact_check

In other news (because there IS other life during an election year), I have now lost 8 lbs and believe that I will be able to hit my goal of 10 by my birthday, which is in 2 weeks.  Yeehaw...  My next goal is to be down 10 more by Christmas.

Okay, I'm off (my rocker)...

Peace,

Kay

Sunday thoughts...

Sunday

October 5, 2008

Hi,

I have been a fan of Anne Lamott's for a long time.  Her writing makes me laugh...makes me think.  I wanted to share this today, even though it was posted a few weeks ago.  She says what I've been trying to tell people for a month...STOP talking about her.  Focus on what you want..

A Call to Arms by Anne Lamott

How to handle the fury brought on by this election? Register voters, hit the streets, pray. Stop talking about her. Talk about Obama.
By Anne Lamott | September 16, 2008

I had to leave church Sunday morning when it turned out that the sermon was not about bearing up under desperate circumstances, when you feel like you're going crazy because something is being perpetrated upon you and your country that is so obscene that it simply cannot be happening.

I sat outside a 7-Eleven and had a sacramental Dove chocolate bar. Jeez: Here we are again. A man and a woman whose values we loathe and despise -- lying, rageful and incompetent, so dangerous to children and old people, to innocent people in every part of the world -- are being worshiped, exalted by the media, in a position to take a swing at all that is loveliest about this earth and what's left of our precious freedoms.

When I got home from church, I drank a bunch of water to metabolize the Dove bar and called my Jesuit friend, who I know hates these people, too. I asked, "Don't you think God finds these smug egomaniacs morally repellent? Recoils from their smugness as from hot flame?"

And he said, "Absolutely. They are everything He or She hates in a Christian."

I have been in a better mood ever since, and have decided not to even say this woman's name anymore, because she fills me with such existential doubt, such a sense of impending doom and disbelief, that only the Germans could possibly have words for it. Nor am I going to say the word lipstick again until after the election, as it would only be used against me. Or polar bear, because that one image makes me sadder than even horrible old I can stand.

I hate to criticize. And I love to kill wolves as much as the next person does. But this woman takes such pride in her ignorance, doesn't have a doubt in the world about her messianic calling, that it makes anyone of decency feel nauseated -- spiritually, emotionally and physically ill.

I say that with love. As we say in Texas. (Also, we say, 'Bless her heart.')

We felt this grief and nausea during the run-up to the war in Iraq. We felt it after the 2004 election. And now we feel it again.

But since there are still six weeks until the election, and since the stakes are as high as the sky, which should definitely not be forced to endure four more years of the same, we have got to get a grip. There are millions of people to register to vote, millions of dollars to be raised. We really cannot go around feeling flat and defeated, with the need to metabolize the rotten meat that this one particular candidate and the media have forced upon us.

One of the tiny metabolic suggestions I have to offer -- if, like me, you choose not to have her name on your lips, like an oozy cold sore (I say that with love) -- is to check out a Web site called the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator. There you can find out what she and her husband would have named you if you had been their baby. My name, Anne, for instance, would be Krinkle Bearcat. John, her running mate, would be named Stick Freedom. George would be Crunk Petrol. And so on.

First of all, go find out what your own name would be. Then for one day refuse to use the name of these people who are so damaging to earth and to our very souls -- so, "I don't have to understand anything, it's all fuzzy math. Trust me. I'm the decider." From now on, when working for Obama, talk about Obama, talk about his policies, the issues, the economy, the war in Iraq, poverty, the last eight years, Joe Biden. You don't have to mention Crunk Petrol, or his sidekick, Shaver Razorback.

And you sure as hell don't have to mention Claw Washout -- she is absolutely, hands-down the most ludicrous person ever to be nominated. She's a South Park character. There was a mix-up. Mistakes were made.

Everything you need to know about how to bear up during these two months is already inside you. Go within: Work on your own emotional acre. Stand still, and hurt, and feel crazy. Then drink a lot of water, pray, meditate, rest. Rest is a spiritual act. Now, I am a reform Christian, so it is permissible for me to secretly believe that God hates this woman, too. I heard God slam down a couple of shooters while she was talking the other night.

Figure out one thing you can do every single day to be a part of the solution, concentrating on swing states. Money, walking precincts, registering voters, whatever. This is the only way miracles ever happen -- left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe. Right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe. The great novelist E.L. Doctorow once said that writing a novel is like driving at night with the headlights on: You can only see a little ways in front of you, but you can make the whole journey th is way. It is the truest of all things; the only way to write a book, raise a child, save the world.

As my anonymous pal Krinkle Bearcat once wrote: Laughter is carbonated holiness. It is chemo. So do whatever it takes to keep your sense of humor. Rent Christopher Guest movies, read books by Roz Chast and Maira Kalman. Picture Stick Freedom in his Batman underpants, having one of his episodes of rage alone in one of his seven bedrooms. Or having one of his bathroomy little conversations with Froth Moonshine. (Bless their hearts.) Try to remember that even Karl Rove has accused him of being a lying suck.

Reread everything Molly Ivins and Jim Hightower ever wrote. Write down that great line of Molly's, that "freedom fighters don't always win, but they're always right." Tape it next to your phone.

Call the loneliest person you know. Go flirt with the oldest person at the bookstore.

Fill up a box with really cool clothes that you haven't worn in a year, and take it to a thrift shop. Take gray water outside and water whatever is growing on your deck. This is not a bad metaphor to live by. I think it is why we are here. Drink more fluids. And take very gentle care of yourself and the people you most love: We need you now more than ever.

Peace,

Kay

How to handle the fury brought on by this election? Register voters, hit the streets, pray. Stop talking about her. Talk about Obama.
By Anne Lamott | September 16, 2008

I had to leave church Sunday morning when it turned out that the sermon was not about bearing up under desperate circumstances, when you feel like you're going crazy because something is being perpetrated upon you and your country that is so obscene that it simply cannot be happening.

I sat outside a 7-Eleven and had a sacramental Dove chocolate bar. Jeez: Here we are again. A man and a woman whose values we loathe and despise -- lying, rageful and incompetent, so dangerous to children and old people, to innocent people in every part of the world -- are being worshiped, exalted by the media, in a position to take a swing at all that is loveliest about this earth and what's left of our precious freedoms.

When I got home from church, I drank a bunch of water to metabolize the Dove bar and called my Jesuit friend, who I know hates these people, too. I asked, "Don't you think God finds these smug egomaniacs morally repellent? Recoils from their smugness as from hot flame?"

And he said, "Absolutely. They are everything He or She hates in a Christian."

I have been in a better mood ever since, and have decided not to even say this woman's name anymore, because she fills me with such existential doubt, such a sense of impending doom and disbelief, that only the Germans could possibly have words for it. Nor am I going to say the word lipstick again until after the election, as it would only be used against me. Or polar bear, because that one image makes me sadder than even horrible old I can stand.

I hate to criticize. And I love to kill wolves as much as the next person does. But this woman takes such pride in her ignorance, doesn't have a doubt in the world about her messianic calling, that it makes anyone of decency feel nauseated -- spiritually, emotionally and physically ill.

I say that with love. As we say in Texas. (Also, we say, 'Bless her heart.')

We felt this grief and nausea during the run-up to the war in Iraq. We felt it after the 2004 election. And now we feel it again.

But since there are still six weeks until the election, and since the stakes are as high as the sky, which should definitely not be forced to endure four more years of the same, we have got to get a grip. There are millions of people to register to vote, millions of dollars to be raised. We really cannot go around feeling flat and defeated, with the need to metabolize the rotten meat that this one particular candidate and the media have forced upon us.

One of the tiny metabolic suggestions I have to offer -- if, like me, you choose not to have her name on your lips, like an oozy cold sore (I say that with love) -- is to check out a Web site called the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator. There you can find out what she and her husband would have named you if you had been their baby. My name, Anne, for instance, would be Krinkle Bearcat. John, her running mate, would be named Stick Freedom. George would be Crunk Petrol. And so on.

First of all, go find out what your own name would be. Then for one day refuse to use the name of these people who are so damaging to earth and to our very souls -- so, "I don't have to understand anything, it's all fuzzy math. Trust me. I'm the decider." From now on, when working for Obama, talk about Obama, talk about his policies, the issues, the economy, the war in Iraq, poverty, the last eight years, Joe Biden. You don't have to mention Crunk Petrol, or his sidekick, Shaver Razorback.

And you sure as hell don't have to mention Claw Washout -- she is absolutely, hands-down the most ludicrous person ever to be nominated. She's a South Park character. There was a mix-up. Mistakes were made.

Everything you need to know about how to bear up during these two months is already inside you. Go within: Work on your own emotional acre. Stand still, and hurt, and feel crazy. Then drink a lot of water, pray, meditate, rest. Rest is a spiritual act. Now, I am a reform Christian, so it is permissible for me to secretly believe that God hates this woman, too. I heard God slam down a couple of shooters while she was talking the other night.

Figure out one thing you can do every single day to be a part of the solution, concentrating on swing states. Money, walking precincts, registering voters, whatever. This is the only way miracles ever happen -- left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe. Right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe. The great novelist E.L. Doctorow once said that writing a novel is like driving at night with the headlights on: You can only see a little ways in front of you, but you can make the whole journey th is way. It is the truest of all things; the only way to write a book, raise a child, save the world.

As my anonymous pal Krinkle Bearcat once wrote: Laughter is carbonated holiness. It is chemo. So do whatever it takes to keep your sense of humor. Rent Christopher Guest movies, read books by Roz Chast and Maira Kalman. Picture Stick Freedom in his Batman underpants, having one of his episodes of rage alone in one of his seven bedrooms. Or having one of his bathroomy little conversations with Froth Moonshine. (Bless their hearts.) Try to remember that even Karl Rove has accused him of being a lying suck.

Reread everything Molly Ivins and Jim Hightower ever wrote. Write down that great line of Molly's, that "freedom fighters don't always win, but they're always right." Tape it next to your phone.

Call the loneliest person you know. Go flirt with the oldest person at the bookstore.

Fill up a box with really cool clothes that you haven't worn in a year, and take it to a thrift shop. Take gray water outside and water whatever is growing on your deck. This is not a bad metaphor to live by. I think it is why we are here. Drink more fluids. And take very gentle care of yourself and the people you most love: We need you now more than ever.

Peace,

Kay

I Love Garrison Keillor

Friday (thank Godde)

October 3, 2008

Hi,

Just wanted to share this from Garrison because, as usual, he says it best.

By Garrison Keillor


It's just human nature that some calamities register in the brain and
others don't. The train engineer texting at the throttle ('HOW R U? C
U L8R') and missing the red light and 25 people die in the crash - oh
God, that is way too real - everyone has had a moment of supreme
stupidity that came close to killing somebody. Even atheists say a
little prayer now and then: Dear God, I am an idiot, thank you for
protecting my children.

On the other hand, the federal bailout of the financial market (YAWN)
is a calamity that people accept as if it were just one more
hurricane. An air of crisis, the secretary of the Treasury striding
down a hall at the Capitol with minions in his wake, solemn-faced
congressmen at the microphones. Something must be done, harrumph
harrumph. The Current Occupant pops out of the cuckoo clock and reads
a few lines off a piece of paper, pronouncing all the words correctly.
And the newscaster looks into the camera and says, 'Etaoin shrdlu
qwertyuiop.' Where is the outrage?

Poor Larry Craig got a truckload of moral condemnation for tapping his
wingtips in the men's john, but his party proposes to spend 5 percent
of the GDP to buy up bad loans made by men who walk away with their
fortunes intact while retirees see their 401(k) go pffffffff like a
defunct air mattress, and it's business as usual. Mr. McCain is a
lifelong deregulator and believer in letting brokers and bankers do as
they please - remember Lincoln Savings and Loan and his intervention
with federal regulators on behalf of his friend Charles Keating, who
then went to prison? Remember Neil Bush, the brother of the C.O., who,
as a director of Silverado S&L, bestowed enormous loans on his friends
without telling fellow directors that the friends were friends and
who, when the loans failed, paid a small fine and went skipping off to
other things? Mr. McCain now decries greed on Wall Street and suggests
a commission be formed to look into the problem. This is like Casanova
coming out for chastity.

Confident men took leave of common sense and bet on the idea of
perpetual profit in the real estate market and crashed. But it wasn't
their money. It was your money they were messing with. And that's why
you need government regulators. Gimlet-eyed men with steel-rim glasses
and crepe-soled shoes who check the numbers and have the power to say,
'This is a scam and a hustle and either you cease and desist or you
spend a few years in a minimum-security federal facility playing
backgammon.'

The Republican Party used to specialize in gimlet-eyed, steel-rim,
crepe-soled common sense and then it was taken over by crooked
preachers who demand we trust them because they're packing a Bible and
God sent them on a mission to enact lower taxes, less government.
Except when things crash, and then government has to pick up the
pieces.

Some say the tab might come to a trillion dollars. Nobody knows. And
Mr. McCain has not one moment of doubt or regret. He switches from
First Deregulation Church to Our Lady of Strict Vigilance like you
might go from decaf to latte. Where is the straight talk? Does the man
have no conscience?

It wasn't their money they were playing with. It was yours. Where were
the cops?

What we are seeing is the stuff of a novel, the public corruption of
an American war hero. It is painful. First, there was his exploitation
of a symbolic woman, an eager zealot who is so far out of her depth
that it isn't funny anymore. Anyone with a heart has to hurt for how
Mr. McCain has made a fool of her. Never mind the persistent
cheesiness of his attack ads. And now this chasm of debt and loss and
the gentleman pretends to be shocked. He was there. He turned out the
lights. He sent the regulators home.

Mr. McCain seems willing to say anything, do anything, to get to the
White House so he can go to war with Iran . If he needs to recline
naked in Macy's window, he would do that, or eat live chickens, or
claim to be a reformer. Obviously you can fool a lot of people for a
while and maybe he can stretch it out until mid-November. But the
truth is marching on. A few true conservatives are leading a charge
against the bailout. Good for them. But how about admitting that their
cowboy economic philosophy was at fault here?

Peace,

Kay