I’m afraid of our toaster,

and not for the usual reasons.

I was taught a strict toaster protocol during my childhood on La Belle Street: pull the toaster out from underneath the cupboard when you use it (Dad was a volunteer firefighter but Mom enforced the rules), and always unplug the toaster BEFORE you stick a knife in there to retrieve stuck toast.

Good rules.

Most of the time I follow them.

Unlike other members of my household, toast is not a central part of my existence. I may toast a piece of bread every couple of weeks. Such a cavalier approach may be unworthy of our new toaster.

We are humbled by its presence in our kitchen. Its glossy black finish awaits the mapping of our fingerprints. It has several setting options, wide enough slots to accommodate bagels and Frisbee-shaped breads, and a digital readout to indicate level of browning.

Oh my.

However, despite its commanding presence, it did not perform particularly well on its first toasting opportunity, browning only part of the toast.

My husband shopped long and hard to find this toaster; there was a 20% off coupon involved, a $10 rebate available. If it doesn’t start producing even toast, it will be returned and replaced with something far more modest.

Maybe even something I know how to use without consulting the instruction booklet.

I flipped through the the mail and flinched when I spotted an envelope from the cable company. The same cable company that I blogged about last summer when they repeatedly sent us erroneous and escalating bills, charged and then credited the credit card number on file, and now, several months later, is billing us again for a supposed past due amount on an account that has been paid in full.

Argh.

I can only assume that anyone who terminates service with this company is forced to endure months of false bills.

Systems are wonderful when they work; it would appear that this system is not working, unless its intent is to aggravate me.

I'm considering several possible courses of action:
1) phoning, once again, the manager who guided me through this the process last time,
2) whining loud and long to a cousin who works for this company, or
3) ignoring it.

I was waiting to board a plane when I gave in to that nagging feeling that I had forgotten something.

I did a quick check of what I was holding: purse, laptop/case, briefcase,
and a large, boxy electric fan.

Clearly I had more than two personal items.

Yes, another exciting night in dreamland folks.

The fan was a remnant of an earlier part of my life, something I acquired after my parents installed central air-conditioning. That fan stirred the humid air in my upstairs apartment in Iowa Falls summer after summer.

I found two things amusing about this dream: 1) that nobody thought it was odd that I was flying with a large yellow fan (although they did make me check it prior to stepping on the plane), and 2) the purse I was carrying had been changed from its real color of brown, to black, thereby matching my laptop case and briefcase.

In my dreams I have better color coordination than in my real life.

We were going some place, it was early, still dark out.

I was in the back seat with the dog when my husband pulled into the driveway of a small white house. When he ran inside, the car slipped out of gear and sped away in reverse as I scrambled to climb into the driver's seat.

The car seemed to have a destination in mind, and as I yanked the emergency brake we slid into a parking space by a large stone church, just as a long black limousine turned the corner.

It was a funeral for a local man who had loved to dance until dawn. Although I didn't really recognize anyone from my hometown, my parents were there and we exchanged hugs.

A woman said a few words to us as she walked past and I called out after her, "Nice hat Sue." She was wearing a beautiful deep purple dress with a matching hat, very ornate. I have no idea who she was, but I was embarassed to be calling out to someone at such a solemn gathering.

And then I became aware that I still had the dog with me, clutched in my arm, and I clearly couldn't take him into the church, plus my husband was probably worrying about us.

As I was walking back to the car, an enormous black dog lunged at us. I couldn't find my car keys and had to use some metal object to trigger the lock. The car once again took over, driving us downtown. I managed to force it to a stop by the narrow back of a building that I seemed to know and asked a shopkeeper to call my husband.

It's been a busy week in dreamland. I love it that an out of control car drove me, in reverse, to the town of my childhood.

A week ago my sister and I were immersed in conversation with each other, exhilarated by the sheer bliss of being together in the same room.

By the time she left two days later I was hoarse and my throat hurt.

Sigh, good times.

Something long-awaited slipped into place for me this week as I worked on my novel. Could be that all of that talking freed up a part of my brain that had been blocked.

FRIENDS WITH MONEY, TSOTSI, THE SENTINEL, and TRANSAMERICA -- Blockbuster sent us a coupon and we made good use of it.

The only one of these movies I had heard of was TRANSAMERICA and I wasn't all that enthused about seeing it, but Felicity Hoffman was amazing and it was a good film, succeeding in being both humorous and heartwrenching.

TSOTSI was a difficult movie to watch but a powerful one exploring the cycle of poverty and violence in South Africa. Strong acting, unique twists in the plot, and the contrasts in settings and lifestyles made this a memorable film.

FRIENDS WITH MONEY had a stellar cast, including Jennifer Aniston, Joan Cusack, Catherine Keener, and Frances McDormand. The theme is one I'm working with a bit in ALUMNI AFFAIRS and although the movie seemed plotless at times, I really liked the characterizations and how the action unfolded.

THE SENTINEL was much better than I was expecting. I rented it just to have an action flick for my husband: chick flick + action flick = household harmony. Michael Douglas, Kiefer Sutherland, Eva Longoria, and Kim Basinger give us another portrayal of the complex ties between the oval office and the FBI.

I picked up a wonderful selection of books at the library:

Elizabeth Berg's WE ARE ALL WELCOME HERE,
Clare Clark's THE GREAT STINK,
Mary Karr's THE LIAR's CLUB,
Dorothea Benton Frank's FULL OF GRACE,
and Dan Chaon's YOU REMIND ME OF ME.

I doubt I'll get to all of them but perhaps their presence will inspire me.

My husband is an excellent listener. He listens for facts and his retention level is high—-not perfect (yeah, that’s right), but high.

I never realized what a lousy communicator I was until we got married. Funny, I never seemed to have much problem in this area until after we got married.

I’m sure that’s just a coincidence.

Today I was picking up around the house when my husband approached, “You picked up the dog’s toys,” or maybe he said, “You picked up your dog’s toys.”

See what he means? And that’s when I’m really trying to recall exactly what he said.

Anyway, his point was that he had said that while the carpeting could stand to be vacuumed today, he wasn’t going to do it until tomorrow. T-o-m-o-r-r-o-w, not today. Tomorrow he is planning a big cleaning day.

I listen for content, or, okay, maybe I listen for things that I find interesting (most listeners are egocentric). As far as I was concerned, the important news in his message was that he was going to clean. Whoo-hoo!

I can spend hours puttering around the house, removing hard water stains, vacuuming behind and underneath furniture. My husband is much more efficient but rarely dawdles with minor details such as dusting picture frames and lampshades.

I like to think that we both bring different areas of expertise, or tolerance, to this chore. While I’m thrilled to share the housework, I don’t see any point in being rigid about a cleaning paradigm.

I hate those airborne cleaning sprays; the fewer contaminants in the air that I’m breathing the better. I love those microfiber cloths that pick up dust and are great to use on electronics. I think it is okay to vacuum twice a week, so if the carpet needs a quicky, I'm going to want to haul out the vacuum cleaner.

My husband sees my approach as throwing off his schedule and the likely culprit in explaining why I’m not getting more writing done. Some days my time is better spent at the keyboard, and on other days I might as well dust the air vents.

“The ‘Rating’ line on that form is meant for the judges only; it should not be construed as an additional comment on your story/poem.”

Um, just how would you interpret a C - ? It seems mighty clear to me and there's no way I can ignore it. At least it wasn’t marked in red ink.

88, +89, 51 ?

“Each judge chose a different rating style.”

I’ll just bet they did. Having worked with teachers who were trying to reach a consensus in matters of grading and assessment, I can picture a group of judges clinging to their individual approaches. What I can’t imagine is that the people running the contest tolerated it.

The form sent to the participants should not contain the rating portion of the feedback/evaluation forms.

I submitted a short story and an essay to a writing contest several months ago and received the response today. I appreciate the written comments. While I understand that the content of my work may not have appealed to certain readers, it is helpful when people take the time to provide feedback. Even if you don’t agree with them, they offer a fresh perspective and it is good to know if a section is unclear or an ending unsatisfying.

The comments from the C – judge were somewhat dismissive: “Slender tale featuring academic humor and – gasp! Hi-jinks – Caution: hard to write about boredom in an entertaining way.” I would agree that it is a slender tale, I actually like that description; it was never intended to be an in depth portrayal. And I appreciate the warning as a similar comment was made regarding an earlier draft of ALUMNI AFFAIRS in which the protagonist was tired in the opening chapter.

Writers are pushed to have that opening page sizzle. Grab the reader’s attention and RUN! But I think that depends on the theme and content of the story. I hate to see anyone get locked into a gimmick that they can't maintain; a reader can close a book at any point.

Last night I started reading a wonderful book, Lisa Tucker’s ONCE UPON A DAY. This is her opening paragraph:

“Stephen Spaulding was very happy, and you can’t say that about most people. He hadn’t sought happiness, but he recognized it. This was his gift: to know what he had.”

It isn’t frenzied, it isn’t outrageous; there are no aliens or vampires or anyone with an agenda to rule the world, get rich, or fall in love. There’s a guy who was once happy, and he is no longer happy because tragedy touched his life in a devastating manner. The voice is authentic; the novel opens in an effective manner. The character is engaging and his life is about to change.

Beginnings and endings are tricky, and, oh yeah, middles can be challenging also.

Another judge described my academic short story as ‘delightful’ and pointed out a couple of minor things I might want to add and delete, very helpful. The third judge commented that the story had “nice character details,” and told me to “keep writing!” Not so helpful—-which details did you like?

Along with the short story I submitted the essay I wrote about my father’s declining health and death. I’ve spent a lot of time tweaking this essay over the past four years. I know I have very little perspective on it because it remains so emotionally charged for me.

Vague comment: “A loving tribute.”
Thanks, but what worked, what didn’t work?

Somewhat helpful comment: “Touching story. Nice imagery. Ending could be stronger.”
I agree that the ending could be stronger. A few specifics would have been nice.

Possibly helpful: “. . . very moving recollections of a love for a father. I am a bit confused by the organization. I think an improvement would be to re-organize, using chronological order.”
I disagree regarding chronological order in this essay; however, if a reader was confused, that is a prompt for further consideration.

These judges were all tip-toeing in their responses because of the emotional nature of the essay. I imagine they had many entries to read so I applaud their ability to even make written comments.

I’m planning to volunteer to judge some of the entries in the very popular Romance Writers of America contests. I’m curious as to their rules and guidelines in streamlining this process and I find the sheer number of entries staggering. I know there will be novels that I may not care for, it is a far broader genre than people realize, but hopefully I will be a more sensitive reader due to my experiences.