memoir
Signs and wonders
I’m making lots of progress with my writing this week, hallelujah and amen! To what do I owe this recent success? The Fast Draft Express is one possibility, or it could be the purple bracelet I’m wearing. Or maybe it’s the product pitches inspirational email messages I’ve received from Daily Candy.
This first one arrived on Wednesday:
Subject: Holey Roller
Brothers and sisters, let us bow our heads in prayer.
The dark days of longing for sinfully decadent pastries are over. The day has come when we can satisfy our temptations with something holey. As in Holey Donuts.
[S]ince they’ve got a fifth of the fat and a fraction of the calories of regular donuts, you can indulge your lust without guilt. […] Amen to that.
Then – and I swear on my stack of gilt-edged Bibles, I’m not making this up – I got another one today!
Subject: Holy Crap
Every morning when you wake up at your beau’s …
You say: “Want me to run and get us some coffee?”
You think: I must get to a Starbucks loo stat.
He says: “Aw, thanks, baby, I’d love a latte.”
He thinks: Why won’t this chick poop in my john?
You’ll overcome your bathroom shyness with the Breeza, a deodorizing toilet seat. 
Serendipity, synchronicity, a sign from the universe or a message from God — I’m one of those who finds metaphors in even the most unlikely places. Well, maybe not in a pastry box or under the toilet seat lid, but you know what I mean.
One more example (and I’ve saved the best for last): my Double Delight rose bush unfolded into full bloom earlier this week! I grabbed my camera and snapped a picture to show-and-tell you. How did this fragrant flower come by its fortune-cookie name? I refuse to believe it’s a coincidence.
http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=http://dg.specificclick.net/?u=http%3A//www.livejournal.com/stc/fck/editor/fckeditor.html%3FInstanceName%3Ddraft%26Toolbar%3DUpdate&r=
Divine inspiration
And it came to pass that in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and thirty-eight, two farm boys met each other – and their destinies – at the Florida Bible Institute. They socialized and studied Scripture together, then went out into the world to preach the Gospel.
Yesterday, I received a copy of their 1939 college yearbook in the mail. Just for you, I’ve scanned a picture of their Junior class. Count down 3 rows, and check out the 4th photo to your right. Can you guess who that is?
My Permanent Records
I have very few artifacts from my childhood — a handful of family photos, a half-page “Big Top Revival” newspaper clipping, and a couple of Jesus fans (cardstock images of Christ stapled to tongue depressors, funeral home information printed on the back. How’s that for the power of suggestion?). Otherwise, nada.
I’m not certain how many schools I enrolled in, where they’re located, or when I attended. Part of my research involves piecing it all together. But one thing I now know with a certainty: Permanent Records are a myth. After three to five years, your cumulative files are stripped to bare bones, picked clean of any prose. What’s left? Census data, grades, and test scores — nothing else. No evidence that you were an angel or, for that matter, an incorrigible student. Just the facts, ma’am, and sometimes even those are sorely lacking.
Nevertheless, I now know more about where my father went to school! Even better, I talked to the college representative on Friday, and she offered to send me something fabulous. It will most certainly add an element of irony to my memoir, and a bit of celebrity flair. Maybe I’ll do a little show-and-tell when it arrives. Are you interested?
In other news: I keep having to switch my bracelet from one wrist to the other — so often, in fact, that the weekend went by in a purple blur. Here’s a couple of positive developments: I somehow managed to finish my SisterDivas column five whole days before my deadline, and I’m making good progress in the first week of the Fast Draft project. No comment on the quality (eyes her bracelet), but I’ve written lots of words.
Happy Monday, everyone. Have a memorable week!
A Trip down Memory Lane
Unarchiving memoir material is so exciting, especially if it’s a long-forgotten fact. It’s rather like being handed the keys to a souped-up muscle car that’s been stored for years in someone’s garage. Sure, it’s suffered some dings and dents, and the upholstery’s a little ragged around the edges. But oh, listen to how that V-8 engine purrs…
Hey, why don’t you hop in? Let’s take it on a joyride down Memory Lane! I’ll point out some landmarks from my childhood, mileposts 1960 through 1970. Then I’ll slip into the passenger seat and hand you the wheel, so you can describe what you see in the rear-view mirror.*
Vrrrrrooooom. Are you ready?
Apple Records and A-Line dresses
Big Chief Pencil Tablets and Bookmobiles
Culottes and cross-stitching aprons in Home Ec.
Duck and Cover and Drink and Wet dolls
Mr. Ed and Easy-Bake Ovens
Flexible Modular Scheduling and Field trips to Dana Point tide pools, plus the California Missions
Gym Suits and Gilligan’s Island
Herman Munster and Hopscotch
I Think I Love You (David Cassidy and the Partridge Family, who else?)
Jacks and molded Jello (bonus points if it includes shredded carrots or fruit)
Octopussy and the Living Daylights, the book
Patent leather shoes with pantyhose and Paint by Numbers
Queen for a Day
SRA kits and skate keys
Trading Stamps (S & H Green Stamps, Blue Chip, etc.)
Uninterrupted, Sustained Silent Reading (aka Drop Everything and Read)
Vietnam War and Velvet Elvis pictures
Wienermobile and Winchell Mahoney Time
Zorro (TV reruns and Wonderful World of Disney)
Your turn! What do you remember?
*I tried linking each milepost marker, for those of you who want or need a tour guide’s explanation. Unfortunately, LJ’s not cooperating. I’m sorry!
Oregon Adventures
I spent the last five days in Oregon – a whirlwind of get-togethers with family members, old acquaintances and friends. Fortunately, almost everyone I met with about my memoir project was enthusiastic and helpful. No one gave me the cold shoulder, but some may take a little longer to warm up to the idea. Just as it is with my trophy wives, I need to earn my interviewees’ trust.
On Friday, I got to "do lunch" with three of my LJ friends. It’s always so much fun to link people’s smiling faces and personalities to their online names and blogs! We talked about writerly things, of course, including our current projects and future plans. As for me, I talked about how I’m piecing together my memoir project (all apologies to Anne Lamott) bird feather by bird feather. 
Left to Right: LKmadigan, lorraine T., Lisa Schroeder, and me.
Did I mention that I excel at flitting, not only when I’m supposed to be writing, but also when I’m out on the road? Well, here’s photographic proof. On your left, Haystack Rock, which we passed on a misty morning walk in Cannon Beach. On the right, a meandering drive through wine country, in the Willamette Valley. Just so you know, the car was parked when I took this photo. And yes, we had a designated driver.
Next time I post, I’m going to ask you to join me on a trip down Memory Lane. I hope you’ll say yes! ‘Til then, I hope you have a wonderful week!
To hell and back
On Sunday morning, I sweated over a passage in my fledgling manuscript, trying to capture the cadence of my father’s hellfire-and-damnation, call-and-response sermons. Glory be, and can I get a witness: that was very hard work!
What better reward, then, than a matinee performance of WICKED? Okay, so I bought tickets months ago. We’ll call the timing serendipitous.
Those wildfires in Orange County? Fortunately, they didn’t come close to my house. But it hit 96 degrees here yesterday; by late afternoon, it was hot as Hades! I’m not complaining, though: the warm sun’s working its seductive magic on all the budding plants in my yard. Here, unfolding blooms from my champaca tree and banana shrub, tropical relatives of the magnolia. They aren’t especially beautiful, but wow, they smell heavenly! (Champaca flowers have a sweet fragrance, like Hawaiian plumeria; banana shrub blossoms smell like — you guessed it — bananas. Or maybe Juicy Fruit gum.)
I’m headed to Portland this week, to do more research for my memoir project. I’ll also be taking some side trips — the Oregon Coast, a few Willamette Valley wineries, and Hall Street Grill in Beaverton, where I’ll meet three lovely LJ friends for lunch. Boy, do I feel blessed!