I've been a bit lax...I apologize

I haven't posted anything in well over a month. George and Willow still aren't really getting along. They tolerate each other to a point, but then I'll turn around and George will be pouncing on her or she'll be hissing at him. It sounds like I'm turning into a cat lady so I'm going to move on and not talk about them for a bit.
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I'm stuck in a total rut when it comes to writing my book. I know the entire story in my head, but all the words I've written are total crap and I've been using the delete button more then the space bar. Charlie's story is pretty powerful stuff. I have to tell it right or it won't have the effect on you readers that I want it too. Obviously the bits of the short story below that I've been posting are what started me writing Charlie's tale. I was writing about Ned, originally trying to get into the head of drunk and killer, that was my intention anyway, but the story never ended up taking that route. And then I started pondering why I would give that type of human being so much attention? Ned by the way is based loosely on a real man. Very loosely, since his character seems to have changed quite a bit as I started writing and it was Charlie that started bothering me.

When I lived out in Montana I worked in a Native American Studies Department. I had an interesting opportunity to learn a little more about the small population of Native students that go to the school. I think because of this I was more aware of them then my friends. One thing I was asked during my interview, was whether I would have any problem dealing with Native students whose feelings towards whites were perhaps not so much unkind, as not very warm. I was also basically asked if I was racist at all. Naturally I said no because I don't know know how anyone can think that way and I got the job, etc. That kind of closeminded viewpoint is just not a part of me and I have no real perception of how a person can judge people by the color of their skin, beliefs, and I think it's important to learn from our history, but move past our the tensions that held us back in the past.

I've spent a lot of time pondering racism in America, a land with thousands of cultures living together. I myself had never run into racism until I went out to Montana. I don't really feel like I have the right to nor could or should I describe some of the situations I ran into, but let's just say the tension between Native Americans and Whites is still very much alive. I would say that it is a much quieter distrust from Natives and much more vocalized my Whites, but then I never had the opportunity to be a fly on the wall in a some of the apartments on campus so I can't really accurately say that. I also have too many stories to put them all down here. I don't think that racism is anything to joke about. I've had a couple of people try to laugh off a few comments after I didn't laugh along with them and basically the conclusion I've come to are the following.

I don't care if you are in a room full of Whites, African Americans, Native Americans, or any other race and there is no other race in the room with you, it is never acceptable to joke about a person because of the color of their skin or their beliefs. It bothered me to no end when people would do this. I'm glad President Obama made a point about this in his inaugural address yesterday. Basically this kind of thinking needs to stop if our nation is going to evolve at all.

I should also say that I'm not painting everyone in Montana with the same brush. Not everyone is racist and I saw many cases that showed me that perhaps the idea of a "Great American Melting Pot" could one day come to be.

My point for telling you all this is that I decided to write about a character who grew up surrounded by these tensions. I've also come to the conclusion that my writing is always better when it's about something I'm passionate about, something I'm very interested in. I'm definitely a deep thinker, in fact I tend to over think things. I have two great-uncles who were in Vietnam and I took a class a long time ago on the Vietnam War. It's a part of America's history that fascinates me. As a story teller I love history, it's the greatest story ever told.

War is another subject that I don't feel I have the right to talk so much about. I can borrow from other people's experiences, but since I haven't ever been to war I don't want to talk about it except through a characters eyes. It's a bit different than talking about Alaska, for example, if I've never been there, or maybe it's not since I could still offend someone. Honestly, if Charlie's story ever comes out to my satisfaction I won't really care if it offends anyone, because it will be as accurate as I can make it, but it will definitely push the envelope on what is comforting for many people. It would only offend if you didn't agree with how some view points are portrayed, but it would always be the truth. I don't mind writing about touchy subjects as long as I know what I'm talking about and can inform the reader, but I have to be careful there.

Charlie has been giving me a lot of trouble though. He has a voice and a presence in my head. He was basically shouting at me that, "no one would want to read about Ned so why was I wasting my time.?" Every time I've tried to start his story, however, it comes out looking like a child wrote it, okay maybe it isn't that bad, but it is not to the same calibre as my other work. I am my harshest critic and I nit pick my work to death. A lot of my best stuff I'll never share on here, because when it's good, it's very good, and it's like sharing a part of my soul. I have a hard time doing that. I've tried moving on to other stories for a time, but just can't do it. I don't think it's writer's block, because I can still write it's just that none of it's any good. Any suggestions to get started?

George Has Moved In!

So, George came and moved in last night. He's settling in nicely and he's such a lovebug. He's actually sitting in my lap as I write this, blocking the screen. He's a little spooked by the noises outside and of people coming and going. I think he thinks I'm leaving whenever he hears the outside door closed, but he's starting to get used to it. He's just a big baby, a very, very rugged baby that is. He likes laying on one of my totes under my bed, I think he thinks it's his cave and also has found he can watch the pigeons out my back window. He loves that, haha. I'll post some pics when I get batteries for my digital.

I also found this one amusing....

The cat who ran up the water bill...all day long while his owners were at work...they only found out when the husband stayed home sick for the day...meet Gizmo.

Because I found this to be fabulous....

Enjoy!

Some Excellent News!

I am adopting a cat named George! He's black and white and was abandoned and left to fend for himself for a few years until and an organization called Friends of Feral Cats found him. Here's a link to their website www.feralfelines.net. I'm big on the adoption thing right now especially with times as hard as they are. Kittens have a much better chance of being adopted than an older cat. Why I don't really know because despite them being cute, they aren't litter trained and haven't learned manners yet, nor are they neutered. Anyway, George is a cutie, his foster mom and dad are coming Wednesday night to check out my place and if all goes well George is moving in! I'm also taking my parents cat Willow and am hoping they'll get along alright. I'm sure they'll settle in fine though.

Rest in Peace

A piece from the Facebook group started by the owners of the horses who died in the fire on Dec. 10, 2008.

In memory of the 8 horses that were tragically lost to a barn fire on December 10, 2008 at Spruce Hill Farm in Windham, Maine.

The horses were not only show horses; they were family and will be greatly missed. They won't be remembered for their show records but for the smiles they brought to everyone's faces. No one ever thinks that anything like this will happen to them. It is an utter tragedy. As all of you know these horses were very well loved and taken care of. Sometimes there are no answers as to "why this happens to good people".

Rest In Peace our beloved horses & may you enjoy the greener pastures in which you are now running.

Lil' of Buckskin (Monty) owned by Elizabeth Cole
The Whole Nine Yards (Ripley) owned by Taylor Duncanson
The Moxie Man (Lucky) owned by Brittany and Jenna Costa
A Romantic Cowboy (Cowboy) owned by Julia Jordan and Abigail Smith
The Scottish Verse (Scotty) owned by Haley Jordan
MWS Flash Mea Double (Sandy) owned by Marti Beaulieu
Zipped Outa Town (Doc) owned by Caitlin Sarah Putnam
Ayesgarth Zeus (Zeus) owned by Amy & Dana Sterling

We will be having a "Celebration of Their Lives" on Sunday Dec 14th at 1pm for anyone that would like to join us. Bring pictures to add to our memory boards and any of your fond memories to share. The celebration will be at Crystal Stover's, 508 Gray Road, Windham ME 04062.

Donations for the Spruce Hill Farm Fund can be sent in care of Crystal Stover at the address above. Amy and the horse owners have lost all their tack and equipment from everyday manure forks and lead ropes to blankets and show saddles so any amount would be gratefully appreciated.

Another Few Pages...

I step out into the rain and let the door swing shut behind me. As I walked home I let my mind wander back to the past. It was hard to believe that Charlie and I had once been best friends. We’d met in basic training and had gone to Vietnam together. We were two of the four surviving members of our platoon who made it home. After our tour was done I’d bounced around the country for a while before following Charlie back to his hometown of Kalispell, Montana and built a house for myself. We’d bought the bar together and through a few other good investments I’d made a name for myself. Around Christmas time his sister returned home from college back east and Charlie introduced us.
From the moment I first saw her I knew she was perfect. Charlie and Carolyn’s mother’s parents had been full blooded Blackfeet. Carolyn had inherited their dark hair, eyes, and golden skin. She was her parents pride and joy. She was smart, top of her class at Rutgers, and her brother and I would sometimes stand in awe at little things she’d say that we’d have never thought of. Carolyn was also the strongest woman I’d ever met. She’d raised a daughter on her own, while she went to school. Like I said she was perfect in every way. We were married in the summer after her graduation, and started to build our life together with Dana who had just turned five. I raised her as my own and in the years to come Carolyn and I had two more daughters together, Jackie and Suzanne.


When Monday night rolled around I was back at the watering hole. On Sundays the place was closed so come Monday the place was usually packed with locals thirsty for a taste of liquor. I’d sold my share of the bar to Charlie years before but I never could help but to come in and see how business was doing a few times a week. I strolled in at around nine o’clock, sat down at my spot at the bar, and waited for Charlie to come over. The bar was indeed busy and it was a few minutes before he could get to me.
“What can get for you?”
“Michelob.”
“Draft or bottle?”
“Bottle.”
He handed me the bottle and tried to walk away but I stopped him.
“Hey Charlie, how are the girls doing?”
“They’re fine.”
“Fine doesn’t tell me how they’re handling life without a man in their lives.”
He frowned a little and I could tell there was something he wanted to tell me.
“Alright, what’s going on?”
“There isn’t anything going on.”
“Yes, there is, you always get that pinched look between your eyes when you’re hiding something from.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yeah you do, you remember that time in Da Nang don’t you?”
“Alright fine, look, Junior was right, Carolyn is seeing someone.”
“Who?” Even to my ears my voice sounded a little odd, like someone had me by the throat and I was still trying to talk.
“You don’t know him. He’s from Browning.”
“Who?” I repeated, though I could already tell what was coming next.
“Dana’s father, but look he’s great for the girls. They love him.”
“They’re my kids.”
Damn right they were my kids, I thought. Nobody was taking them from me and Caroline was my wife. Mine. I raised Dana as my own and never treated her differently then the other two. No, I would never allow them to be taken for me.
“Well, you really fucked that relationship up when they watched you smack their mom around for years. Now you’re just going to have to accept Carolyn’s choices if you want any hope in building that relationship.”
“Where the hell did the bastard come from anyway?”
“I guess he’s been serving in the Marines overseas for years and thought Carolyn wasn’t interested in anything more then quick affair. He didn’t know about Dana.”
“So why come to Montana of all places.”
He got that squinty look between his eyes again.
“We grew up together.”