My horse notebook
December 24, 2009
When I was a tween and young teen, I went through a horse phase. I managed to talk my parents into riding lessons for six months. But most of what happened with regard to me and horses was in my imagination, and a lively one it was.
I developed an entire stable of horses. It was called Mescorola Park Farms and it was home to 111 horses, mostly Thoroughbreds and Arabians. There were also several Quarter horses, a few Appaloosas, and a smattering of Lipizzan, Saddlebreds, and Morgan horses. For each horse, I wrote out the pedigree and made a crayon picture. I would sit in my dad’s den, listening to the radio and recording songs, and making my horses and reading the three or four horse magazines that I subscribed to. As my original stock reproduced, I followed the conventions for each breed in naming the offspring. I was a big Queen and Elton John fan by then, so the names were also influenced by song titles. My horse phase also resulted in my only completion of a longer piece of fiction writing, a story about—you guessed it—a horse farm. I got all sentimental about my horse notebook recently due to having been thinking about my other childhood obsession, the Ford Mustang (from my earlier years); that was the story that began my current spate of blogging. I was certain of the notebook’s location my corner of my parents’ basement so I commissioned my mom to bring it along for their current visit. It’s been 30 years, but I recognize the horses like it was last week. It’s fun to be so utterly transported to another time.A funny thing happened because of the forum
December 11, 2009
An interesting transformation is taking place. I have noticed in the last week or so that I am watching significantly less television. I have had that goal for a long, long time but didn’t really take it seriously. I don’t mind the sitting around part of staring at the tube, but then suddenly a whole Saturday will have passed without accomplishing anything of consequence or even inconsequence, and I do mind that. Not doing anything contributes to my general feeling of lack of accomplishment in the big picture of my life.
Participating in Tweak Today seems to be changing that. At first, it was just the taking of a photo everyday. A lot of the time, you don’t really have to think too hard about the assignment, but sometimes you have a great opportunity to be truly creative. I was already feeling good about that little spark. Then, inspired by Emily’s blogwriting, I realized that I could use the Tweak Today mission as the inspiration for my own daily missive. And so, since November 1, I have been doing a pretty darned good job keeping up with it. As a consequence, when I come home after work I don’t turn on the television. No, instead I grab my iBook and write the day’s entry. In fact, it’s gotten to the point where I set a timer for myself because I’m spending too much time writing. Things seem to be snowballing. Last weekend, I left the tv off for a large part of both days and instead DID STUFF. And with today’s mission to Draw a Picture (as well as a few previous drawing missions), I find myself contemplating DRAWING every day, too. What is happening to me? At this rate I may finally follow through on my frequent threats to cancel my cable tv subscription. No, not that one, that’s still crazy talk. But I might find myself finally putting together a portfolio website. I might finally finish unpacking from my move four years ago. I might sort and get rid of a whole bunch of stuff I know I don’t need to keep around. I might begin to take tangible baby steps toward the London goal. All because I drew a beer bottle.My name is Tiny-bunny and I live in firewood
December 1, 2009
Mein Name ist Kaninchen und ich lebe im Holz.
This is the beginning kernel of the idea for my first viable creative writing activity in 20 years. I know some of you will be expecting the results of this inspiration here tonight. But what happened was actually happened was exactly what I was hoping for when I got my Monday night bowling team involved in brainstorming ideas—the concept took on a life of its own, and I couldn’t possibly do it justice when it’s almost 1:00am on a work night and I’ve had plenty of beer. All three of my teammates really came through for me, and we had four games’ worth (three hours) of plot genesis. If you check out tonight’s previous entry, you’ll see what their names are. Shout out, guys!
When I was an English major in college in my composition classes, brainstorming was presented as the opportunity to say whatever tangentially came to mind from some starting point. It didn’t matter however seemingly silly or unrelated it was. The idea was to not censor yourself and to not judge others’ ideas, because somewhere would be the kernel that someone could sink their teeth into.
These days at work, we call it brainstorming, but there is a lot of linear thinking and censoring that happens, and that frunstartes me (frustrates—you know who you are). Every utterance isn’t supposed to be a well-formed, logical idea. It’s just supposed to be a kernel that might turn into something useful because you didn’t think of it before and you didn’t think of it on your own.
As for Mein Name ist Kaninchen und ich lebe im Holz, that is a useful phrase that someone learned in another language, to indicate that she doesn’t actually know German. Seems to me that Ich spreche kein Deusche would be just as effective, but Mein Name ist Kaninchen und ich lebe im Holz is definitely more fun.
My useful phrase in another language was ¡Qué casualidad! or, What a coincidence! in Spanish. I had two years of Spanish in high school and this was a phrase that stuck. Sometimes, a foreign phrase just has a better feel and connotation for the situation than your regular, native language. The other word I like is from my two years of college German—barsängerin, which literally translates as bar singer, but as I learned it, is used more idiomatically as torch singer, along the lines of Edith Piaf, though she might be a little too schmaltzy for barsängerin. Anyway, it’s not one I get to use too often. At least I can work in ¡Qué casualidad! every now and then.
So, stay tuned for the adventures of Rocket Dog feat. Tiny-Bunny and his firewood in the coming weeks. I anticipated tonight, and took along a little notebook in which to jot down ideas–in that respect, it’s a well-crafted plan. Execution is always wildly different than intention, at least in my world.
I’ve artfully un-blurred key ideas from my notes to whet your appetite.
Grandma and the car named Hamgravy
November 8, 2009
On June 23, 1930, my schoolteacher grandmother and three girlfriends set out on a road trip in a car named Hamgravy. They left from Janesville, Wisconsin, and spent two months driving around, with Grandma keeping meticulous records in a trip journal the entire time. There is an accompanying photo album.
They took a southerly route through Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado (Denver), Utah (Salt Lake City), Nevada (Las Vegas), dipped into Mexico, then made their way up the coast of California, through Oregon, Washington, up to Canada (Banff, Alberta), down through Montana to Wyoming, where they turned east and headed across South Dakota and Iowa home to Wisconsin. According to statistics noted in the journal, they traveled for 62 days, 9969 miles (50 of which were apparently on ferries), visited 133 towns, and spent a total of $271.04 which worked out to 1-1/2 cents per mile. ???Lena and I met the girls, Edna and Irene, at Janesville this a.m. and we were finally off at 10:30. At 11:15 our most able pilot, Hamgravy, decided to have a flat tire. The man in the Ford garage was the first to inquire if we had a couple of guns with us. At Dixon we saw a statue of Black Hawk on the banks of the Rock River. At 4:30 we crossed the Mississippi River. Landed in De Witt at 6 and had a chicken dinner for 50??. Traveled 166 miles. Temp. 93.5??.??? It looks like the four girls went in together on the cost of buying the car, and had it freshly painted for the journey. There were eight flat tires altogether. They apparently were not opposed to flirting a little with people they met on the way. ???We stopped at Loveland [Colorado] for gas and Lena promised the service man some Schlitz beer next time we come. ??? Otherwise, the car was dependable. ???Yesterday we saw cars towed through the mud and today they were towed through sand in the desert. Found some awful detours but our Ford rambled right along while other cars were standing still. If Hamgravy only knew! ??? It does seem like my grandmother was kind of the captain of things: ???We are driving along the Great Divide and can see many snow-capped mountains ??? Irene gave up driving at Twin Lakes when a fellow told us we still had 30 miles of mountain driving to Aspen. So Hamgravy and I are taking the rest over the mountains by way of Independence Pass ??? an elevation of 12,200 feet. Lost a bit of my courage but got up the steep grades in second. It???s cold up here and we had our pictures taken on a snowbank. We are glad to be over and finally reached Aspen at 3 o???clock for dinner.??? Nightly accommodations were at travelers??? campsites, where the cost of various sorts of cabins and cottages was $1???$3. On at least one occasion, they drove further than they had planned, with some extra adventure and more praise for the car. ???These lodges are expensive places, $14 a day, so we decided to drive 40 miles before we could afford to sleep. At the ranger station we were informed that we couldn???t go on because of forest fires but we followed four fellows to the fire and cars were taken through by forest rangers. Eleven cars went with us and Hamgravy went up the long grade to Summit Inn on high. We passed a Buick on up grade so are we ever proud of our Ford. Some exciting day! Wild bears even crossed our road. Reached cabin at 11:45. Traveled 235 miles. Tent cabin $3.??? After two months on the road, they were anxious to be finished. ???We are going to make home today so are stepping on the gas all the time. ???It???s Janesville or bust!??? We didn???t stop to eat but bought a lunch to take in car.??? On August 22, my grandmother the road-weary traveler reached home in Almond, Wisconsin. ——————— I know there???s a book project in these materials. First, it is simply extraordinary that in 1930, these four young, single women set off on such a journey unchaperoned (well, I???m assuming it???s extraordinary). Second, it???s such a complete accounting of all aspects of the trip that it would be too bad not to share it with others. I suppose I could do the journal and photos, and intersperse history and contemporary events in appropriate places. Remember that bit yesterday about sitting on my ass? It was back in 1993 that I typed up the handwritten journal and scanned all the photos.
Kelly’s Unnecessary Blog 