Patricia Harrelson

Evelyn

My mom, Evelyn Stevens Mical, died 26 years ago today. Here are some of my memories about her:

She went to college in the late 1930s when that was unusual for women. She graduated from the University of Arizona with a degree in microbiology and did her graduate work at UCSF. She was a superb phlebotomist (person who draws blood). When she worked in a hospital lab, she was frequently called upon to draw blood from children and babies because she was not only quick and sucessful, she also had excellent rapport with kids. She was a thinker with the mind of a scientist and a particular interest in things medical.

She was a wonderful seamstress and did lots of handiwork like smocking on dresses. She loved to play games, especially cards and scrabble. She was a dynamite scrabble player, and she and Raymond used to go head-to-head to win, he with the strategy and she with the vocabulary. She read all the time and loved mysteries, especially Agatha Christie and John LeCarre.

She was very limber. I remember her standing on her head in the park and at the beach when we begged her to. She used to do the Canadian Air Force calisthenics in the front room with instructions from a record, and when my brother started doing yoga at 18, he taught her some asanas which she did every evening after work for years. Late in life, she took a walk every morning in Golden Gate Park. In the summer, she frequently took a swim across Twain Harte Lake doing the side-stroke.

She always sent Christmas cards. When we were kids, the card included a picture of us, but later the picture was of her or her house. She collected little boxes and kept them on display all over her house. She had a lovely old rocking chair that she rocked my little sister Ginger in and may have rocked the rest of us too. She liked a candy she called “turtles,” which I think were chocolate covered peanuts. She ate Wheaties with banana for breakfast. She always took an afternoon nap and drank a glass of iced tea when she woke up.

She would be 86 years old if she was still living.

ph

According to everything I’ve read, I’m supposed to be racing to the end of this adventure with joy and exultation, but instead I’m bored and frequently head off on procrastinating side-trips. Yesterday I went to the library to write and spent an hour looking at books in the teen section using the excuse that my book might be for a youngish crowd and needed to do some research. There are some great books written for teens. I checked out three. Then I set up my computer and found a Columbia College catalog and read it for awhile and considered taking so many classes in the Spring that it would be like taking a full load. Then I realized I could get on the wireless hub for the Internet, so I checked my email and looked on Amazon for the investment books that Kenny had suggested and found a 3 for the price of 2 sale and started looking at the mysteries. In the midst of all this Cindy dropped by to say hello, and we visited for a while. I finally got back to Memo a half hour before it was time for me to leave.

Two things worked once I got home—advice that came in pep-talks sent by the NaNo folks. The first was to write a scene that I’d been imagining but which was not necessarily at the point I’d reached chronologically in the book. I leaped ahead and wrote about something I imagined would happen near the end of the book. That garnered close to a 1000 words. Next, I used Julianna Baggott’s suggestion: “Polish your jealousy to a high shine—like the chrome of a well-loved Mustang.” This was easy when I went to post my word count on the NaNo website and two of my long distance buddies had reached the 50,000 completion mark over the weekend, and Arlyn had pulled ahead of my by 3000 words, and Annie had more than doubled her count over the weekend. What the heck had I been doing?

Dinking around with my blog and all the other aforementioned activities. I dove back in and wrote another 1000 words before bedtime. I’m ready to be done with this. It’s been fun, but I want to step into December with all the accompanying wonder and madness of the year’s end.

ph

We spent yesterday catching up on NetFlix and Blockbuster DVDs and the recorded TV programs that are stacked on our entertainment center.

First, we watched three episodes of our favorite TV program ER. Poor Abby has fallen off the wagon, breaking out hearts because she is our favorite character and we too are on the wagon. Looks like the subplot or connecting thread for the entire season is going to be about her backsliding. Darn it Abby . . . Just go to a meeting. In a funny side story, Cindy and I admitted that we each had wanted to write Abby’s name on a chit for the Boutros game on Thanksgiving, but we could remember her last name, probably because we were so far behind in our ER viewing. Abby Lockheart. How could we forget? Until partnering with Luca for the second time, Abby’s MO on the show was her locked heart. DUH!

Next we watched Factotum. The film is based on Charles Bukowski’s semi-autobiographical novel of the same name. Matt Dillon plays Herry Chinanski (the Bukowski character) and Lily Taylor (from Six Feet Under) plays his sometimes girlfriend. Taylor can sure play the weird chick well. Makes me wonder what she’s like in real life. In the film, Dillon and Taylor are dynamite together, superbly underlining and playing off the frailties of each other’s characters. You have to have an existential bent to enjoy this film, but for me the final scene was worth witnessing Chinanski’s agonizing life for 90 minutes. I won’t spoil the end should you see the film, but I’ll tell you that I made Cindy rewind it so I could watch it a second time. The cinematography and the recitation of what is probably the end of Bukowski’s book is an exquisite merger of film and writing. (Feminists BEWARE)

We both loved the second flick though it only got lukewarm reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. But then Cindy and I adore a good love story and this movie, The Secret Life of Words, qualifies as that. Cindy picked it out on a solo trip to the video store which can be deadly for us. She picks a DVD by the picture on the cover and I pick them by reviews I’ve read which means we don’t often land on the same page when we choose a movie alone, but it happened this time it. I’d read the review of this film and was thrilled when she brought it home (Yes, she did pick it because she liked the cover.)

We had intended to watch a 3^rd movie, but after watching The Secret Life of Words, we wanted to hold the film’s imagery in our minds and hearts for the rest of night, so we stopped there. I won’t tell you about this story—read a review or just take a look at the cover and decide if you want to watch it.

ph

When the Dixons lost eighteen-year old Ashley, the ties that bind them pulled more snuggly together.

I spent yesterday in Mariposa with this extended part of my family. A large contingent had come north from Southern California, so the welcoming hugs took a while when we arrived. The early indoctrination into the hugging practice was apparent when 18-month old William met us with arms spread wide followed by his knee-level hug. William milked the hugging for all he could get as he continued to seek a hug from each person that sat visiting in a big circle of couches and rockers on the porch.

After the initial hellos and check-ins, we all gathered on the porch steps where we were treated to a dog show by cousin Rhonda, whose three pups—Maddie, Hank, and Penny—wowed us with their patience and obedient performance. What’s more, at the end of the show, 6-year old Christina got a turn to toss treats and the pups did their leaping tricks for her.

Next we gathered around the dining room table for a photo-slide show of the volleyball game we missed on Friday and the triumphant participation by Aunt Joanne. Two years ago at Thanksgiving, we all gathered at Joanne’s thinking this might be her last since she was severely incapacitated by COPD. But after lung transplants last February, Aunt Joanne was able to play 3 games of volleyball on Friday and there were pictures to prove it. In a series of photos, we watched Joanne collide with sister Bonnie as both tried to reach an out-of-range ball. Joanne hit the ground and rolled but rose again, we were assured, to keep on playing. GO AUNT JOANNE!

Then Kenny arrived to collect the giant pile of chocolate chip cookies Aunt Cindy had baked for his return to New York next week. We had a great visit with him, hearing his new passion– getting rich by investing smartly–while he dipped cookies into a big glass of milk as he ate them.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the disorderly confusion that generally accompanies a large family gathering, i.e. seven conversations going at once that get mixed and mingled until the threads are tangled and one person is answering a question that wasn’t posed to him and another is missing the gist of an argument because of an interjection by someone asking for chip dip.

But things do get done, like the retrieval of a photo of Ashley from a cell phone that took no more than 5 minds at the computer and the creation of a huge and delicious pot of chicken noodle soup and dumplings made by many hands.

After consuming big bowls of soup, we piled into cars and drove in the Dixon fashion—a streaming caravan of vehicles– to the high school to watch Kenny play in the alumni-varsity basketball game. What a hoot watching old and young Mariposa Grizzlies duke it out on the court. The Alumni won by one point. YEHAW Kenny!!

After the game, Dixons et al poured onto the court for hugs all around as we prepared to leave. Our holiday with the Dixons was over and we drove the curving Highway 49 full of familial good feeling.

With Andrea came the game of Boutros-Boutros Ghali. What I love about this game is that the playing field is flattened and all stops are pulled. Elders and youngsters can mix and match as can a post-modern sensibility with a 50s-antiquated intelligence. You can be book-learned or TV learned or street smart or not smart and you can still play Boutros. You simply have to be willing to play foolishly and without a need to win.

Here’s the game in brief. Everyone playing gets 10 chits. On these chits, you write the names of people. They can be real (historical, friends, family or the famous) or imaginary, (characters in books, plays, movies, or cartoons). Fold your chit in half and place in the sturdy hat or can that is provided. Next comes partnering. Beans or tokens in pairs are the most playful way to match folks up, but you can also put pairs of numbers on slips of paper. Everyone blindly chooses one of these sets of pairs and your partner is the person who has the thing that matches the one you chose (for instance two pinto beans or two 5s). Partners sit side-by-side around a table or in a circle. Pairs can seem to be oddly matched, i.e. Lee with Adrian or pairs can appear doomed from the start like when Culley and Andrea were once partnered and were bickering from the start. In both of these cases, the unseemly pairs were the ultimate winners. That’s the cool thing about Boutros. You never can tell who will win. Sometimes there is simply a brain wave connection between two people that causes one word to give the partner an immediate correct answer like last night when Sidney said to Shayley, “kissing” and she said, “Flogging Molly.” (I think that’s the name of a band which is not an acceptable chit but when you have made up the game you can also make exceptions which someone did in this case.) How Shayley got to Flogging Molly from kissing, I will never know, but it must be some generational thing that teens could grasp.

So back to how the game works: Each pair gets one minute. One partner takes a chit from the sturdy hat or can and tries to get his/her partner to guess the person listed on the chit. If guessed correctly, the other partner grabs a chit and starts giving clues. When one minute is up, you keep all correctly guessed chits and pass the hat to the next pair who takes a turn. Unless an immediate connection is made as when Lee said, “He was the President” and Adrian said “Bill Clinton,” then the clues and/or the guessing becomes a comical scene of errors and silliness, and everyone watching is laughing and there is always someone whose turn it is NOT who knows the answer but can’t say and hopes to get that chit when their turn comes around.

Boutros is the perfect accompaniment to turkey and stuffing. Laughter and good company is the best dessert I can think of. Thanks Andrea.

ph

From the inside out, I offer gratitude to:

• My body for the ultimate in service and to my spiritual and physical care-takers, Nancy, Cherie, Christian, & Jay.
• Cindy, partner extraordinaire, whose loving kindness is sheer joy every single day, whose dearness tickles my funny bone and whips my heart with happiness.
• My children and their spouses and my grandkids, who fill me with immeasurable delight, generous dollops of play, and just the right sprinkling of challenge.
• My brothers and sisters, who despite distant and infrequent contact, remind me so much of me and where I’ve been in this life time.
• My extended family the Dixons whose huge arms hug me close and keep me ever so warm and safe.
• My amazing network of friends with whom I play, work, meditate, exercise, write, garden, serve, laugh, cry, think, and grow.
• My neighbors and community who are generous of spirit and helpful when I least expect it.
• The bigger world which pulsates with the possibility of greater goodness. . .

To all of this, I offer the love that is expressed and experienced every where this day.

ph

NaNoWriMo is past the mid-point, and I have this sorry novel in the making. As my word count goes up, the story gets FLATTER and FLATTER. The murdered girl is dumped on a sand spit beside New Melones, Memo is afflicted with a staph infection in a cave on the other end of the lake near Natural Bridges, and the main character is having meat loaf with Memo’s grandmother. Where’s the narrative arc, the suspense, the red herrings? I haven’t a clue . . . I’m just writing toward 50,000.

There was another write-in at Starbucks last night with a newcomer, which means there were four of us, plus Miles who has this encyclopedic brain and is the artistic consultant of our newest member C. Ravenlocke, a fantasy writer and three-time NaNo winner. Miles popped out an answer to a question I had that turned out to be the only noteworthy thing I wrote last night. Well at least it had to do with death and was therefore remotely connected to the murdered girl on the spit of sand.

See how it’s going?

Today is a writing day. The plan is a 6000 word day to get some words in the bank. Hopefully something goofy, unreal, disturbing, suspenseful, suspicious will fall out of my fingers instead of the meatloaf dinner I got hung up on last night.

Speaking of banks, the deal around here is that Cindy goes to the casino when I go to write-ins, and last night she hit a spade royal flush and won $1000. There is some WriMo math here for those of you who wish to calculate . . . I spent 2 hours writing 1670 words for zilch and Cindy spent 15 minutes and $20 to win a $1000. Is my math/writer friend Annie able to solve this word equation?

Write on ph

I’ve been away from home and blogging for 5 days and I have missed both a lot. Having done such a wild array of things of late, it’s hard to remember way back to Wednesday when I was last home and blogged. Here is a selection of thoughts and activities that I might have written about had I been blogging daily:

• Hanging out with a 93- year-old guy slowed me down considerably. I listened to stories and questions posed repeatedly but with complete sincerity, stayed on a strict schedule of meals, played Rummy after dinner every night, and took short leisurely walks. This is not a bad way to live.
• One of my greatest teacher fears was realized at Little Red School House last week but not by me. The teacher wrote an entire lesson on the white board in permanent ink marker. OUCH!
• A full day with Gianna allowed sufficient time to talk about horses, housekeeping, jello, and remote control convertibles.
• My son’s family was one of two of the original Hickman Charter School families in Tuolumne County, a brilliant move on my daughter-in-law’s part as the kids have definitely gotten a rich and complete education in this context AND they were each perfectly cast in the school’s fall drama production of “Cinderella.”
• I just had to buy Leon and Aliou boots that light up when they walk. I’ve wanted sandals like this for years and if can’t have them, then two of my grandkids will.
• My friend Linda Du and I ended up at Bon Appetite after speeding from restaurant to restaurant last Friday evening looking for one without a wait. What a lucky thing for us, for as Linda will tell you the Lobster bisque at this restaurant is “to-die-for.”
• After dinner we went to “Plaid Tidings.” You can read my review of the play later this week in the Democrat, but suffice it to say I had the most fun writing this review of any to date. Maybe it was because Linda accompanied me to the opening night party at the Lickskillet–my first such party—where Doug B. complimented me on my reviews. Since I’ve wondered if anyone connected with the productions was reading what I wrote, I think his comment gave me a happy push to make this one shine.
• Saturday at a co-ed baby shower that was accompanied by a poker game, I met a student from Sac State who was doing a research project on American folk traditions among which baby showers are included. Showers originated, I learned, between WWI and WWII and are directly connected with a move from agrarian economics to industrial-urban living. Go figure.
• I’m absolutely certain the God was delighted to hear the giggles of Leon and Aliou as Father Fitzpatrick poured holy water over their heads while baptizing them on Sunday. I know the parishioners loved the music of their laughter, not to mention their stunning white embroidered Liberian costumes donned for the occasion.

I’m home now. I’ve had 2 zero count days in NaNo but plan a 6000 word day for Tuesday which should put me ahead of the game going into the Thanksgiving weekend.

Oh one last thing—a remarkable coincidence upon which I must remark. In my usual practice of reading one book and listening to another in the car while driving, I have encountered two major characters with the same name: Pete Kovacs. How weird is that? The authors are unconnected as far as I know and were probably writing their books at roughly the same time judging by the publication dates. I guess a noveling sprite was hop-scotching among authors having a lark with planting character names.

Now for more tea and plunging forth to increase my word count.

ph

My friend Annie, the math teacher, is cranking out words toward the 50,000 finish at the end of the month despite starting 5 days late because of work commitments. Here is a little WriMo math she passed along yesterday:

Today, I reached 12,500 words which is one quarter of the way but we are two fifths of the way through the month. This doesn’t sound as far behind as 9,000 words in a 50,000 word race somehow. Funny how natural it is to manipulate the numbers to believe what we wish.

Don’t you just love the way math shows up in a writing event. Most WriMos have reached the point of OCD behavior when it comes to word count now that we are closing the second week of NaNoWriMo. I, for one, can’t quit checking the numbers. I make myself write for half hour blocks before I’m allowed to check.

Short blog today. I’m off to be pruning lady and I probably won’t post again until Sunday as I’m going to hang out with my chiropractor’s 93-year-old dad for the next few days. There isn’t a decent Internet connection out that away. But I will be writing and of course checking my word count.

ph

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