Happy New Year Ramblings, part the first

Happy 2012, faithful readers. The end of one year and the start of a new one always provide good excuse to ramble, and so I will. I still have a while before I need to make myself presentable for the traditional New Year's Day open house and book swap held by some friends. Not the most romance friendly environment, but the company is good, their dog is fun and I get to scarf free noms while meeting interesting people. Plus I've been to two UBSes and B&N this week, so I thnk I'm good for a while. More on that later, as the clock is ticking.

I think our Christmas decorations are trying to tell us something. A few years back, DH and I acquired a much-beloved lighted wreath, and shortly after that, a Christmas tree made of red tinsel, like so:

These two items have been mainstays of our Christmas decorating scheme, centered around the bedroom bookcase, since our apartment is what can best be termed "cozy." This year, they both went dark. I should also mention that the blinds have been replaced (the tear not being my fault, for those who keep track of these things) and same with the lamp, in favor of a nifty vintage 50s treasure. DH and I do have replacement bulbs and we are willing to do the work required to find the culprits in case our decorations are of the "if one goes down, they all go down" persuasion, which they well may be.

Due to a serious conversation we had at another of our holiday gatherings, the red tree will have to be saved, since when we are in a bigger place, we need to have a small tree in every window. We are willing to take heroic measures to save the wreath, as A) it was given to a dear friend by my dad on one of his final Christmases, B) said friend thinks it's one of the ugliest things she's ever seen, and C) DH and I recognize its inherent perfection. Our hearts will not break if the red tree can't be brought back to life; last night, I wound a spare string of clear lights around it and on with the show. That will do for now, and with the dying of the light (sorry, couldn't resist) coinciding with the January sales on all things Christmassy, this is the perfect time for me to snag a new mini tree, free of guilt.

The question then is, what kind of tree? I've seen black trees -though sadly, the last time I remember seeing one in the flesh as it were, was at dearly departed Borders- and would love to do a forest of different colored trees, but I'm getting the urge for a traditional green one as well. At lunch with writing friends, I nearly got as excited about a wayward evergreen snippet that had found its way into my gift bag as I did the gift itself. Driving around to peep at strangers' light displays always tears me in two directions; the classy all-white lights and the cacophany of colored ones. I have come to the conclusion I may eventually need two houses so I can indulge in both, but I'll need to sell a few (million?) more books first.

Though I recieved no new books at Christmas, many did come home, both novels and research tomes, over Christmas Week, and it's entirely possible more will come home today. Actually, it's a slam dunk that there will be at least one, as our hostess is extremely vigilant in that regard; all guests must leave with at least one book. Not sure at the moment what I'll be bringing to the swap (apologies to the one gal who has said she waits to see what I'll be bringing, as I don't know if I'll be hauling anything romancey in that direction, but will try) but I'm not going to sweat it. I have what I have and I'm donating what I'm donating and that's going to have to do.

All of this is a roundabout way of saying that this year is going to be the getting back to my roots/core/authentic self year, writing and otherwise. A few days ago, I sent off a paper letter to a writer friend, for the pure reason that it felt good to do so. Pretty pages are a good place to let my brain droppings spill, twirling around each other and combining into something I might not have expected when I first opened the file or put pen to paper. I do know that I owe some friends some long-promised mail art, and thanks for the patience; mail art is getting scheduled into my days, and since the most gorgeous day planner in the history of history is soon to arrive in my mailbox, sticking to my schedule is going to be a lot easier this year.

Well. No surprise here, I've taken the scenic route and time has not stopped, so I will leave this here for now and be back in the AM with part the second, wherein I ramble about reading, writing and other creative matters.

My Favorite Time of Year and Other Ramblings

This is my favorite time of year, this tucked away week between Christmas and New Year's. Maybe it's a leftover from school vacations, but I'm more inclined to think it's part of my hardwired programming, one of those things that is me, always was, always will be. Best not to fight those things, as it's a losing battle; embrace them instead and steer into the skid, as it were.

Things like how I've always known historical romance is the genre of my heart, my artistic tastes lean strongly toward maximalism and the correct answer to "how many blank books does Anna really need?" being "all of them." Of course, none of those books stay blank for very long once I know what they're for - see above mentions of writing and art.

This year's tucked-away week has no less than three gatherings of friends for the sole purpose of celebration. Four, if I can count yesterday's write-in, which I will, and two of those will involve books to some degree. Tomorrow is a gathering of the clans, as my friend, Mary, and I call the mushing together of our two families en masse, and since everybody is a reader, there will be at least one bookstore involved. Also much discussion of books. On Friday, I meet with my longterm critique partners, Melva and Michele (I really do have friends whose names begin with letters other than M, I promise) for our annual holiday feast, and then will see them again on Sunday for Michele and her hubby's annual open house and book swap. Okay, that's three gatherings that will be book related. These gatherings will also involve nonwriters, but those nonwriters are readers, so it balances out.

In an ideal world, I would spend the tucked away week in a big house, decorated inside and out, open to friends and family. Dress of the day would alternate between elegant glitz and flannel pajamas - let's say pjs until noon, regular clothes for lunch (as this might involve leaving the house, especially if there is snow to walk and play in) and then treat dinner as a red carpet event. Suits for the gents, gowns for the gals, and everybody is encouraged to accessorize as they please. I maintain a version of this in my head, alongside the real life events; call it my own alternate universe. So far, it's working.

Mornings would begin with pancake breakfasts, everyone in pajamas and robes and then mornings may be spent in repose, lain out on couches, recliners, comfy chairs and convenient patches of floor as desired. Conversation and books abound, and the four-legged members of our party would have free run of the place. This part, I've found, is the most portable - it can come from its universe into the tangible one at any time. Okay, holidays and weekends, because I do need to be gently turned about and pointed back toward the computer at some point.

Which is perfectly fine - once the well is filled, there needs to be output to balance the input. Fof this week, I'll revel in the company, gobble a few good books, as I am most assuredly in a reading mood, but more on that later, and then it's time for a firm but gentle hand to point me back to the keyboard and let me ramble.

What about you? What are you taking away from this tucked away week? Do you have a different favorite week of the year?

Happy Holidays (dancing and otherwise)

It's that time of year again. Over here, that means last minute push to finish making gifts, one more store run for stocking stuffers, hashing out the schedule for The Day, which is subject to change until hm...about 12:01 on Dec. 26th.

Memories of Christmases past, with family members who are elsewhere or no longer with us, linger. Earlier today, I had to put away a packet of photos that started out with DH's now-traditional portraits of our stuffed animals because -kapow- the next one was the first from the roll we shot at what was my Dad's last Christmas. A few years back but yet too soon, so those go aside for a while. Emails and cards from friends bring the intimate warmth of being together even if there are miles between us, and I've had the great joy of putting up or helping to put up three trees this season. Two in friends' homes, one in my own. One traditional pine with heirloom ornaments with sentimental meanings, one silver fiber optic with brightly colored ornaments that all came together, and one mini tree made of red tinsel, self-lit and adorned with tiny red, gold and green balls as well as one giant red one emblazoned with the logo of DH's place of employment.

Holiday music gets frequent play over here: Neil Diamond's cover of Adam Sandler's Hanukkah Song; Coldplay's Christmas Lights, which put me in mind of a favorite blog that has not been updated for some time now -I wish the blogger well- and the Pogues' Fairytale of New York, which is a new discovery for me. Stephen Curtis Chapman's "O Come O Come, Emmanuel", the only version I've ever heard where the singer actually sounds like he wants Emmanuel to arrive; since I'm Christian myself, this is kind of a biggie.

Movies are Love Actually, About a Boy and The Holiday. I've already read Coming Home for Christmas by Carla Kelly, and Christmas Revels by Mary Jo Putney, and if I were able to hunt down some of the older Shillouette historical Christmas anthologies, I'd be up for a gorge on those, but if not, my TBR shelves overflow and there are untapped treasures on my ereader. I have yet to view Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol (or any version of Mr. Dickens' masterpiece, for that matter) this year, but there's time for that. We count the twelve days of Christmas in our family starting on the 25th, not ending on it, and the week between Christmas and New Year's is my favorite week out of the entire year, that tucked away time.

Since I'm not sure when I'll have computer time over the holiday itself -power cord on the laptop blew; I'm borrowing a friend's, and a new one is on the way (thanks, Kara!)this will stand as the "official" weekend post. It's all too easy for me to blabber, especially about my favorite holiday - some sad, some happy, some silly, some holy, old friends and new favorites, the ghosts of Christmases past, present and future all welcome guests- but the only appropriate happy dance for today is obvious:


Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate.

Saturday at the Movies #77 - Hell on Wheels

I did not see this one coming. Normally, I don't have much interest in westerns, novels by Maggie Osborne excepted. Still, the lure of a historical drama on television is strong, rare birds that they are. Two things drew me in, though.

First, the grit. If I'm going to do a western, then give me something raw, something harsh, a trek into the unknown, undertaken by the adventurous and the desperate. In short, don't give me a nice, mannerly story here. I expect something that's still finding its way, tension between characters who might not otherwise ever breathe the same air, and I am fully aware words and actions are going to get ugly at times. That, for me, comes with the territory. Aforementioned Maggie Osborne novels are good examples, or for those who aren't opposed to some very gritty spiritual content, Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers.

Second, Colm Meany, who plays a New York senator and entrepreneur here. I first noticed him in Star Trek: The Next Generation, and was beyond pleased with his performance in The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain, so anything with Mr. Meany in it automatically has my interest.

Okay, two and a half if we count the visuals. :points to title card above:

This may not be the most romance-rich program out there, though we do have some characters who would be right at home in a western romance novel. There's the recently widowed Lily, a woman alone in the rapidly changing world as the birth of the railroad means the death of the unspoiled frontier. Confederate veteran Cullen Bohannon, a man now without a country, bent on avenging the assault and murder of his wife at the hands of his Union counterparts. Elam Ferguson, a freed slave who rises to a position of power amongst the railroad crew...and may be having more than merely physical grownup fun time with one of the local working girls. Then there's the man known as "The Swede," who isn't Swedish, but will get the job done, by whatever means neccessary.

There's preachers, Indians, immigrants, former slaves and survivors of Indian captivity, jockeying for position in this rapidly changing world. This is the birthing pangs of a new era and the death throes of an old one, happening at the same time. Colm Meany's "Doc" Durant is a nineteenth century spin doctor, keenly aware of not only what he is actually doing, but how his actions will be perceived, though his motives are far from altruistic.

Hell on Wheels delivers everything I want in a historical drama, even if it is outside my comfort zone, setting wise, and I'm okay with that. I can already tell this is one I'm going to want to watch multiple times to catch bits I've missed on the first viewing. How about you? How gritty is too gritty for a historical drama, or is there no such thing as long as it stays true to the times?

Happy Dance Friday #77 - Preston Leatherman

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Sometimes, when I open Blogger to start a post, I have no idea what's going to come out. Today is one of them. Open Blogger, open YouTube, chide self for not posting anything writing-related during the week (but I've been writing, does that count?) and the phrase, "dance like nobody's watching" popped into my head, and so the search began.

Thankfully, the timing was right, and I happened upon a young gentleman named Preston Leatherman (whom I induct into my Awesome Cool Names Hall of Fame here and now. Yes, I do have such a thing, but that's for another time.) embodying the very spirit of a happy dance here:


I must confess I've had the same idea, but being without camera crew at present, have not actually indulged. Yet.

Imagine my delight when I found there's also a holiday edition, and bonus points for using a song also used in Love Actually.


Bonus Christmas music video:


Very creative, sticking Taylor Swift song titles into a song titled "Taylor Swift." I now have the mad urge to decoupage a guitar...and I don't even play.


As well as proof positive that the world would be a better place with free-range pianos available for public use.


All of the above certainly gets my Friday started on the right note. How about you?