A little melancholy tonight

I think I've mentioned before that I have a strange, inexplicable affection for island music even though it always makes me cry, and I'm not even kidding.  You'd think I was a sloppy Irish drunk listening to Oh, Danny Boy.  Which also makes me cry.  (Johnny Cash did a lovely version of the song on his awesome AMERICAN IV album.)

Anyhoo.

Not long ago when I was listening to The Descendants soundtrack, I was overwhelmed by a desire to take one last trip to Hawaii with my parents.  We have a little bit of history there because of the Football Years.  In fact, the only stadium where I thought the opposing team's fans might set my hair on fire was at Aloha Stadium.  Man, those guys HATED BYU, and whenever you sat in the stands you felt like you were caught up in a rolling riot.  In Tehran.  Sports Illustrated once listed my dad as Hawaii's Public Enemy Number One.  And yet off the field, he and my mother were treated with incredible warmth wherever they went.

So I was thinking it would be nice to walk along the beach again with them and play the "remember when" game.  Remember when we drove all over Oahu in that borrowed Trans Am listening to an 8-track CCR tape?  Remember when Sculley was still alive and he and Lou had us to dinner at their place?  Remember the geckos that skittered across the ceilings where we stayed?  Remember when Jim and I took surfing lessons, and I almost got hit by an outrigger canoe when I broke the water's surface?  Remember when Joe took us to the airport in his squad car and turned on his siren so we didn't have to stop at any red lights?

But how would it be to return to a place you loved together, knowing that would be the last time?  How could you bear it?

I wrote

2,000 words today and 2,000 words yesterday.  I am muscling my way through, people.

Now here's a skill set I wish I had

This morning on our walk, Nancy and I were talking about that experience we've all had--the experience of getting TRAPPED by the person who completely monopolizes you for two. freaking. hours. and. you. can't. make. them. stop. talking. and. you. can't. escape.  She'd had that experience at the library last night.  I'd had it at work the night before.  I got cornered by a customer who took me on an incredibly detailed guided tour of the thought processes she employs while parenting, even though there were other customers standing around, waiting for me to help them.  I wanted to put my head in an oven.

Nancy said, "Here's what we need.  We need skills that will help us get out of those situations . . . "  At this point I thought she was going to say "like the ability to say sayonara, sucker."  But she surprised me.  Instead, Nancy said,  "We need skills that will help us get out of those situations like the ones Jeannie had in I DREAM OF JEANNIE or those characters in STAR TREK who said BEAM ME ABOARD!"

And I was all YOU'RE RIGHT.  So here's to acquiring a brand new skill set with a full complement of futuristic, magical (and also awesome) powers.

(Meanwhile, why do I always want to put MY head in the oven?  Shouldn't I want to put the other person's head there instead?)

As if you really wanted to look at my feet

However, here they are.  This is what they look like after I've gone barefoot running.

I decided today that one of the reasons that I like running barefoot is that I have to pay attention to what my feet are doing while I'm running so that I don't step on dirty needles, shards of glass, and so forth.  In other words, at the risk of sounding all Zen, I have to be thoroughly in the moment when my feet are naked, and I am cutting through the mud and grass.  I can't be busy spinning scenarios of future catastrophes for me and mine, a skill in which I awesomely excel.  (HIGH FIVE ME!  WAY TO SPIN THOSE SCENARIOS OF CATASTROPHE!)  In stead I have to pay attention to what's happening now.

Running barefoot = mood meds.

How life is

I know this fabulous woman Connie who has a sharp, cynical wit for which she is much celebrated by her friends and co-workers.  I've been thinking about something she said recently--people think she's a straight shooter because she isn't afraid to call bullshit on something.  But lately she's begun to ask herself why people seem to equate "cynical" with "truthful."  Truth can be dark.  But it can be light, too.  And ignoring that fact just makes you the flip side of a Pollyanna.

When a good series goes bad . . .

As I've said before, I have cherished the Hamish Macbeth novels by M.C. Beaton.  So!  Much!  I've adored  the Scottish setting (Brigadoon with an edge), the quirky characters, the mildly malicious humor.  Some titles have been better than others, of course, but for years now I've found the series to be consistently enjoyable.

Last year's DEATH OF A CHIMNEY SWEEP, however, felt rushed and underdeveloped--LOTS of telling, not much showing.  Still, I was eager to read this year's DEATH OF A KINGFISHER, which I did today and . . .  wow.  For me the novel was hugely disappointing--disjointed and strangely unlikeable.  Seriously, I don't think I'll read another.

Writers--particularly ones who have successful series--are under a lot of pressure to produce.  As a reader, I get that.  I've been looking forward to a new Hamish each February for years now.  But that pressure can ultimately kill the goose that lays the golden egg.

Bottom line?  I'm just so bummed.

The How-To List

I told my writer friend Stephanie that I'd mostly manage to write 1,000 words per day this week.  She kindly complimented me and then asked what the difference between this week and other weeks had been.  I thought about her question.  What was the difference?  I finally realized I had made a determined decision to bump the writing part up my daily To-Do list.  And then I made a specific plan about how that writing would happen.  What time would I write?  Where?  What did I have to ignore to get it done?

I'm a big fan of To-Do lists.  In fact, tomorrow's column is devoted to the topic.  But I'm beginning to realize that identifying what you want to do isn't enough.  You have to make a plan.  You have to make a How-To list.