With the mild winter in the Midwest, we have all pretty much forgotten how to drive on snowy/icy roads.  This relearning process usually happens in late November or December but this year we are getting the experience now, near the end of January.  Well, better now than later I suppose.

The snow today was supposed to fall as ‘flurries.’  That is weatherman talk for not really knowing how much we might get but to expect something, not much.  There was a steady light fall of snow for about 5 hours; a nice, light, dry snow.  When it finally ended, it amounted to about 1.5 inches.  That’s not normally enough to cause any problems on the roads but since we haven’t had any practise runs yet, it did in fact cause some incidents. 

The problems occur when one driver is extra cautious, going about 35 miles an hour in a 60 mph zone and one is going 70 and not being cautious at all.  The slow person ultimately moves over into the lane with the fast driver approaching.  Brakes are applied to the floor board, and spin out or side slide occurs.  The slow drive typically keeps going, totally unaware he/she has either caused a wreck or caused some near misses and heavy heart palpitations.  All drivers (except the slow one) move on with thankful hearts (and some swearing), glad to still be alive and healthy.

I am not sure why we forget each year and have to relearn snow/ice driving.  Especially those of us over 40 years old.  I guess it is just one of those things that doesn’t rank in high priority in our memory banks, unlike remembering our first kiss, or first date, or first all A report card.  Priorities.  Hmmmm.

Ten years ago a wooded area about a mile from my home was developed with a multi story upscale home for seniors.  They took out almost all of the trees in the process but put in a real nice pond and added a fountain and two pair of swans.  One pair was white, one pair was black.

You may not know it, but swans mate for life.  If one leaves or dies, the other stays single the rest of its life.

About two years after they put in the swans, one of the black swans went missing.  I never found out if it died, was stolen, run over/injured, or just left.  The other black swan swam around by itself for about a year after that.  Finally it started swimming closer to the white pair of swans.  They didn’t seem to mind.  It looked like a little family.

About a year after that one of the white swans went missing.  I never got the story on that one either.  It was just gone one day. Since that time, the white swan and black swan usually swim near each other–about 4-8 feet apart.   Not too close but always near by.  And, when they are on land or feeding, they usually maintain that same distance.  Occasionally I see them  a bit closer and sometimes they are on different sides of the pond.  But when that happens I see them checking for each other.  It seems, although they lost their mates, they have formed a bond of friendship.

When I drive or walk by their pond I always check to see where they are and it always makes me happy to see them together.  Kind of brings a hope that they have moved past their loneliness and found a way to keep on keeping on.

This winter has been fairly mild so far and I am looking forward to a real cold snap and some deep snow. I’m pretty much able to handle cold down single digits but since the start of January our temperatures have been in the upper 30s and mid 40s. Not that I really enjoy being cold. In fact, I detest the cold and especially detest wearing coats. I don’t usually wear a coat until the temp dips into the 20s. The only reason I want the cold snap is that we have to have that before spring can come. And, I desperately want spring!

So, I say, get cold fast, stay here a few weeks, and let’s get this thing over with. We need moisture too, so I say let’s have a bunch of snow; enough to get a snow day from work and go sledding or close off the street and turn it into a toboggan run AND get us out of draught mode. I’m ready with my sled and I can’t wait to get started.

Then, then it will finally be time for spring to come. And, unfortunately, not a minute sooner.

I sometimes watch TV shows from the 50s and early 60s, usually in black and white.  I mean the shows are in black and white; I could be in any color.

Color on TV seems very unnecessary and often is too much of a distraction to me.  I remember just having an old B&W TV when I went to college and when I had my first apartment.  It seemed perfectly normal at the time although all the shows were produced in color.   When we got our first color TV I couldn’t stop looking at it.  It was wonderful but totally distracted me from paying attention to the shows.  I was looking at the scenery, the clothes, the color of the nail polish on the leading lady.  It was impossible for me to pay any attention to the plot of the show or what the actors were saying.

I eventually fell in love with color TV but somewhere along the line I decided I would prefer B&W.  I believe it happened one night when I was watching MASH and the doctors were operating and wounded soldiers were lined up on stretchers.  BLOOD.  In COLOR.  Oh, it was too much for me.  I had seen MASH in black and white for several years and it never really bothered me.  But to see the blood and gore in color really turned me against the show.  How funny that I could watch for years and know what was going on but until I saw it in color, it didn’t really offend me.  This probably has some deep meaning and could be the explanation for the way I perceive life but I will save that investigation for another day.

Over the years I have become adjusted to seeing the good, the bad, and the horrific in color.  It still bothers me but I haven’t stopped watching.  Lately though I have enjoyed turning back time and watching black and white again.  It could be that the shows are so simple and straight forward.  The jokes are basic and the families get along much better than families in current shows, endings are usually happy and issues are resolved.  But I think the real appeal for me will always be the lack of color. 

Still, as I watch, I wonder:  What color dress does she have on?

I wonder if other fiction writers struggle with losing control of their plot to their characters.  This is hard to describe to a non writer and it might sound like a very weird thing to happen.  After all, doesn’t a writer create a plot, create characters, then fill in the details?

Not necessarily.  Or, maybe I should say, not strictly.

My stories usually have a plot with a beginning and an end already in my mind and even in an outline on paper.  I also have the main character(s) detailed to a certain extent, also in the outline.  Some of the minor characters and minor sub plots are also already thought out as well as most of the setting/locations.

But, what happens in the writing process is this:  I start the story, I detail the character(s), I plot the action, things run smoothly, THEN, a character becomes so strong the plot starts taking off in another direction.  I don’t know if this means I am a bad writer.  After all, it is MY story and I know what is supposed to happen.  How can a character develop habits or characteristics that would let him/her take over?  I had one main character a few years ago I had to kill because she was taking over and would have caused the story to have a totally different ending.  I was so disappointed in her actions and how she was manipulating the other characters, there was nothing left for me to do but get rid of her.  She wouldn’t straighten up and she was corrupting the other characters.

Does this happen to other writers?  I just don’t know but imagine it must.  Could it be that I simply don’t have a good enough control of my craft?  Or, could it be that I get so wrapped up in the action of my story that details can get away from me?  Or, and I like this one best, could it be that as I develop the characters, they start to become real and do develop a life of their own?

What ever the reason, I know that for me to complete a novel and be satisfied with the results, I need to gain and retain control.

Right. I’ll see how it works with the next story.

I follow a face book group made up of people from around the globe.  Their objective is to share photos and comment on how to improve the shots or inquire how someone has achieved a special effect.  Every day over 100 pictures are posted.

My problem with the group is not the quality or quantity of the pictures but the subjects.  Today I have seen pictures from Perth, San Juan, Paris, Scotland, South Carolina, Oregon, Canada, Costa Rico, Sweden, Maine, and many other places.  They are all beautiful or at least compelling.  The wildlife and trails, the cities, the waterfalls and the sunsets all call out to me. 

I’ve been an armchair traveler, for the most part, all of my life.  I was a born traveler I believe but have, for one reason or another, been tied to an office, a home with pets and responsibilities.  I know if I really wanted to, I would have traveled the world.  But instead, I watch travel shows on PBS and dream of places I will most likely never see and streets I will never walk.

Now I am hooked daily on peering into the photo lives of others.  At least by the end of a year, I will have a better idea of places I wouldn’t want to go and things I won’t need to see.  Of course, my list of ‘must see’ places will have grown by the hundreds too.  Maybe it’s time to move from the arm chair to the airline.

I saw a clever bird nest picture today.  It was an old boot nailed to a tree and a little oven bird had made a nest in it.

How clever some people are at repurposing.  My major effort at repurposing lately has been to try to get back to my old size 8 clothes.  I’m getting closer.  But that will leave the problem of how to repurpose my current clothes.

I tend to be a hanger on of all kinds of things from high school friends to the shoes I wore to my best friend’s wedding. Every now and then I get in the mood to dispose of things and take car loads to the GoodWill down the street. But there are always things with too much sentimental value to give away or throw away.

When the giant tornado hit Joplin, MO a few years ago it really made me think about ‘stuff.’ Even with the stuff gone, the sentiment/memory lingers. We don’t really need the stuff. What we need are the relationships, our health, our communities, our church families.

So maybe I need to go back over my stuff and figure out what I can do to recirculate the items or use my creative juices to come up with clever ideas like the boot nest. Surely I can think of a few good ideas. I just need a little more time.

We found our current cat about 4 years ago, gaunt and on her last legs, trying to catch a mouse in our garden.

Our previous cat had passed away about 2 years before and we were commited to being cat free for the rest of our lives. That commitment just couldn’t hold up when we were forced to see the pathetic, scrawny, beautiful, blue eyed cat outside our patio door for days on end.

At first I just put a little dry cat food on the garden wall for her to find. I thought I could feed her and she would get stronger and go away. Big mistake with any cat. “Feed me once, I am yours forever,” is a well known cat mantra. I had forgotten.

She was a very frightened cat and would hang around in view until we stepped outside, then she would cower in the bushes. Little by little I got her to come closer by putting food on the wall closer and closer to where I was sitting. Finally I put some of the food in the palm of my hand and she cautiously came over to me. I held myself perfectly still. She took a bite of food, then took a bite of my hand.

“Well, that does it,” I said to my husband. “We have to keep her now to see if she has rabies.” The bite wasn’t severe and it barely broke the skin but I wasn’t taking any chances.

Over the next few days I finally got her to come up to us and hang out on the deck with us. I still wasn’t letting her in at night. I should explain here that my husband is, through no effort of his own, a ‘cat whisperer.’ Cats adore him. They hear his voice and they come running. Our foundling cat was getting stronger and was now starting to demand food and attention. At night she would sit outside our bedroom window and howl until and I went outside to calm her. It wasn’t me she wanted. It was my husband. I would allow her to sit on my lap and she would keep meowing and looking at our bedroom window. She would also thrash her tail, giving me quite a beating. If you know cats, you would know that tail thrashing is a sign that a cat is angry and you should give them room and just leave them alone. Well, she planted herself on my lap, thrashing her tail and any effort I made to get her off my lap resulted in me getting bitten. Not skin braking bitten. Just a tight pinch kind of bite.

After about a week of my getting very little sleep so I could tend to the cat outside, I finally let her in the house. It has been about four years now and she’s still in the house and still likes to sit on my lap, thrashing her tail, looking lovingly at my husband.

I am convinced that, although it is always advised, most people that run don’t have any coaching or training ahead of time.  I offer this observation as one who walks fairly often and is passed by dozens of runners with dozens of running styles.  Some I can hear as they approach from behind.  Thump thump thump.  That’s the sound of the ‘flat foot’ runners.  Thumpa thum thumpa thum.  That’s the sound of runners with more pressure on one foot than the other.  Thumpa slide thumpa slide.  Well, that’s self explanatory.  Runners that partially drag one foot make that kind of sound.  Then there are the tip-toers, the pigeon toers, the knock knee-ers, the bowl leggers. 

And don’t get me started on the arm/hand positions.  Clenched fists, arms swaying, arms pumping, arms flapping from side to side. 

Heads down, lurched forward, leaning back, and straight ahead determined.

Surely there is a good form to use for running to provide both good, safe posture, and good results?  There was a time when I was a runner and I used to study form both by watching experts and by reading about running.  I think I had it down pretty well.  No major injuries and a pretty good record.

At least I am entertained while I walk and sometimes even get a good belly laugh.  I do wait until the person is far enough away before I let loose though.  The polite protocol of the pedestrian path.

My work leads me to meet with many people, strangers at first, and listen to details of their personal and financial situations.  I have found this to be endlessly fascinating and don’t mind at all that I’ve been doing it for over 25 years.  The challenge of my work is to sort out the information and determine the most important features, then guide the people to ideas and solutions for their financial near term and long term needs.

Sometimes I come across people with very similar personal situations and finances but with very different concerns and goals.  That’s what keeps the work interesting.  It’s a puzzle, sometimes using the same pieces resulting in different final pictures.  Usually though, the personal situations vary considerably and the finances are also quite varied.  Some people with major long term goals simply don’t have the finances to meet the goals.  I am also finding more and more people with no children and considerable finances.  No college bills, no grandchildren, no family legacy to be concerned with.  These people fall into a special category.  Typically childless couples have nieces/nephews and/or favorite charities.  Occassionally they have pets that almost fall into the category of ‘child.’  Working my way through the details of how to provide good care for pets has been an interesting challenge of its own.

I remain glad to be in the business and look forward to all of the unique situations ahead and all of the ‘strangers’ that will eventually become my friends.