Happy National Hat Day.

I have many hats. Some are plain functional; some are fashion statements. But whether functional or fashionable, all hats serve a woman living in the South. The southern sun will bake you to leather if you don’t take care.

Functional hats: Most people call them baseball hats. When I lived in Texas, we called them gimme hats, because most of them were free handouts with various company logos – gimme one of those please. I’ve never bought a one and I own many.

Not my favorite hat, but they are useful in my life. They shield me on my morning 5-mile walkabout from the sun’s summer rays, falling acorns and pinecones, and from the errant bird relieving itself from a tree branch or on the fly. I’ve worn them on the tennis court, playing water volleyball, Frisbee golf, gardening and more. They not only shield me from the sun, but just as important, they keep my wild naturally curly hair in check.

Fashion and function: My battered Fedora gets the most compliments, but it serves me well in winter. It keeps my head warm, protects me from the winter sun. And, as I hate umbrellas, it and my London Fog take the brunt of rainy days. Berets and Boggans are for the coldest winter days when the sun rises late and walkabout is over while it’s a hint on the horizon, and when the sun sets early and I have places to go.

So much of life in the south takes place outside: barbeques, weddings, receptions, fairs, Doo-Dah Days, Art in the Park, Parades, and on and on. So, I have a selection of straw hats for summer wear; my outback vented canvass hat; and I have fancy hats for weddings and dressy parties.

I am grateful to a lady I met when I was very young. I’ve long ago forgotten her name, but not her words, “Take good care of that pretty face. Clean it well, moisturize and above all else, wear a hat to protect it from the sun.” 

Yes ma'am. I've been hatted ever since.

Change. More Certain than Death and Taxes?

End of era – for me at least.  I will not be renewing my P.O. Box, and I feel as if I’m losing a friend.  Actually, In a way I am.  The people who work there are a friendly helpful crew.  I’ll probably still take them my annual gift of 3-4 tins of cookies as I have for the past 25 years, but alas, it will be the last.

The post office has always been open 24-7 for those of us who have office hours of our own and need access in the wee hours of morning or night.  Now, because of the unwashed who use it as a nighttime squat, leaving their trash and on occasion vomit, the Post Office has announced office hours of its own and the rest of the day the doors will be locked. 

I’m not sure how those who have jobs outside the home will make it work.  Fortunately I work from home and it doesn’t affect me except in principle.  I loved stopping by and picking up my mail after an evening out or on my early morning walkabout (rain, shine, or snow), but they won’t unlock the doors now til 7:30, and I’m home from my walk way before that. Worse still they'll close early on Saturday and totally close on Sunday.

I’ve had a post office box on Southside since 1990.  It’s always been staffed by a terrific bunch of people that I’ve enjoyed doing business with.  It’s up for renewal and at $33 for six months, it’s a bargain for the security they’ve given me over the years. 

My first 2 apartments on Southside, the one on 15th Avenue (10 years) and then the one on 14th Avenue that burned in 2011 (also10 years), had exposed and unsecure mail boxes easily accessible from the street.  The day I moved in on 14th  in 1990, my neighbor came home to find his mail and an empty box of CD’s rifled and strewn across his front steps. 

I immediately went to the Southside Post Office right next to the Golden Temple and got a box, and I’ve used it for 25 years.  My neighbor did, too.  I considered it a business address, but now I wonder if it’s necessary. 

I live in a more secure 4-plex now; the boxes are inside; the mailman climbs the stairs to deliver packages to my door; I only have one magazine subscription that’s print; all my bills, bank and credit card statements, etc., are digital; payments from Amazon and other places that owe me money go thru PayPal or digitally credit my a special credit union account set up for such payments - separate from my house account at another bank.

Sad to say, but my PO Box is no longer necessary. I might of kept it just because it's been part of my routine for so long.  I picked up change of address forms, but opted to do the deed online instead. Later I’ll order new business cards from VistaPrint and probably omit a physical address and opt just for email, as that's pretty much how people contact me these days.

I waited until the last possible pay by moment, November 10, to let the box go.  I stopped by to say goodbye to the crew. 

Up there with the certainty of death and taxes there is change.  Death comes and you're no longer here to know it on this plane; taxes are a constant and expected, but change, oh change. Of the three, I think change is the more difficult.

Summer's Late and I Can Wait

Sunday and it’s the last day of May.  I pulled the kitchen calendar from the wall and sat down at the kitchen table to flip the page to June and add dates from my iPhone calendar.  The back door is wide open, kitty gate in place.  Jazzmine preens and watches every moving creature in the back yard, but her kitten days are long gone. She never attempts to leap out.  Not sure she could at her age and weight even if she wanted to.

I am amazed that this old place is still so cool inside when I know it’s a very warm 80-something outside when I took the trash to the alley just now. (if this is global warming, i'll take it)

Perhaps the daily rain storm is a contributing factor, but I also know that old buildings built before there was air conditioning were designed for air flow.  I have windows open in the back bedroom and the dining room and the kitchen door, which all face west.  I have the door and windows to the screened in balcony open wide as well.  That, the ceiling fans and a few strategic box fans have been keeping it very comfortable in here.  The minute I open the kitchen door in the morning, the air moves through the place at an event quicker and cooler pace. 

I love living on the second floor – I can keep windows and balcony open year round.  The only thing I do close when night falls or I head out to run errands is the kitchen door.  

However many days I can delay cranking up the central air, I’ll cherish.  I hate shutting myself off from nature and the outside world – the trains passing through in the wee hours; the birdsong and chattering squirrels that wake me in the morning; reading on the balcony loveseat; sitting at my small bistro tablejournaling, sipping and watching the life ebb and flow on the street below.

Can Doing Nothing Be Called Research

Golden rain of leaves

aerie, eyrie, perch 
leaves float on unseen breezes 
I sit pen in hand 

wanting to capture
it all on the page but words
cannot hold the wind
                    © Perle Champion

William Wordsworth wrote, “Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher”.

So one could call my gazing hours on end out the window or off the balcony of my aerie watching the seasons change before my eyes as research.  

And, one could call my walking down sidewalks kicking leaves as hands on experience to commit to the page at a later date. 

 

Can You Publish What You Journal?

Filling the white space

white space taunts my pen
my épée etching each word
slowly on the page

words marching cadence
along pale blue journal lines
and then there is light
                  © Perle Champion 2009

William Wordsworth wrote: “Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart”

I’ve filled the paper or my journal since I was a child: daily observations, traumas & dramas,  poetry, essays, stories and more since I was a child.  I didn’t realize how much publishable material languished there in my own journal until one day.

One day I was rereading an old journal when I realized that one story was practically complete, so why not type it up and send it out. That story was “Rain” back in 2004.  What a thrill it was to see that story so dear me, not only published but resonating with so many readers. 

That day I started paying attention to what I wrote in my journal and noting in the margin whether it would make a good poem or essay or story or a character in a book.  That decision has since stood me in good stead.  Most of what I’ve published originated inthe pages of my journal.

Where is the History of Women?

“I prefer the pen. There is something elemental about the glide and flow of nib and ink on paper.”
― James Robertson, The Testament of Gideon Mack

Paean*

praise for the paeans
flowing from a woman’s pen
that told their story

quietly they rail
assail anonymity
filling silent pages

pen in hand they stand
long lines of women through time
countless pages writ

journals letters more
words telling the history
men tend to omit
              © Perle Champion

 *Paean:  It comes from the Greek παιάν (also παιήων or παιών), "song of triumph..

.

 So much of history is about men by men, but there is a rich history of women if one is willing to look.  It exists in journals, letters, and more.  So much has been lost or tossed as of no consequence.  And, some has been preserved for us if we know where to look. 

Southern History Room of Birmingham and the microfiche archives of the Linn Henley Library are rich with such histories.  To pluck any journal from a shelve and begin reading is like stepping back in time and experiencing a life lived.

I’ll be spending some more time there in the next few weeks as I have some research to do.  Birmingham has one of the best library systems I’ve encountered and I’ve known many. 

Note:Day 3 of NanoWriMo – Novel Wordcount is 8,449BlogHer Blog-a-Day challenge 3 for 3

Do You Name Your Journal?

Dear Kitty was how Anne Frank began her journal  née diary entries.  Our journal is our confidant – giving it a name elevates its status from that of an inanimate object to that of a friend.  A friend with a willing ear that we can tell our most intimate secrets, fears and idle thoughts and know the confidence will be kept.

Naming Things

diarists address

entries by name pleading for

someone’s attention

however abstract

it matters that an ear hears

else trees fall unheard

© Perle Champion

Do you love winter Southern Style?

Jasmine is irritated with me, but not for the first time since this cold snap began.  If the temperature was at least above freezing, I’d have opened her kitty door to the screened in balcony that is her outdoors.  But, it is not.  The temperature this morning on my balcony was 7 degrees and I don’t want to know the wind chill, as I did not plastic in the balcony this year as I did in years past.  My office window at right had enough frost on the inside to require an ice scraper.

Even at 35 degrees, when I let Jazmine out she comes right back in and stares at me as only a cat can.  The odd ‘meorrow’ seems to ask accusingly, “What have you done to the weather?”  She might venture out once or twice more before walking haughtily down the hall to lie on the leopard electric throw at the foot of my bed.

I keep that electric throw set on low at the foot of my bed from the day the temperature first hits 40 just for her.  

She knows she can count on that spot for warmth sunshine or no sunshine to warm herself day or night.  Handy for her, since I rarely run the central heat.

I truly hate to run the gas central heat.  It sucks the freshness from the very air, and in my opinion, most of the breathable oxygen.  It dries my skin and my hair.  More importantly, it dries my sinuses leaving me susceptible to any arbitrary bug, as it did last week after several visits to over-heated homes for dinner parties, etc. 

I have to turn the central heat on occasionally to warm the bathroom for a shower, but it’s off again right now as I sit at my desk writing this Blog.  I have  a small ceramic heater whirring away at me feet at the moment, and I’ll move it next to the couch when I move in there to watch NCIS later.  

I go to bed around midnight and I slip my feet under Jazmine's throw just long enough to take the chill off and allow the down comforter to return my heat to me.  Jasmine curls up on top of it for most of the night.  The throw will stay on for Jazmine until we have several consecutive days at 70.

By Thursday or Friday the temperature will be in the 40's and 50's, and I’ll open her kitty door again.  I love winter southern style – it comes and goes and seldom lingers more than a day or two.  

Have you jumped on the 'OneWord' BandWagon?

I jumped on the ‘One Word’ bandwagon thinking it would be easier than making a list of New Year’s Resolutions.  Well, it is not.  Choosing the word was a piece of cake; but living it remains to be seen.

My One Word is ‘Create’.  I’m an artist and a writer and a photographer, so it seemed a logical choice, until I realized that those things are not all I create.

By my every action, deed and word I create my home, my life, my opinions, my relationships, my health and so much more.  I create these things based on the actions I take, the friendships I make a myriad of things I’ve not identified yet.

Therein lies the difficult part – where to begin.  I’ll be pondering and/or meditating on that over the weekend.  What is the ideal life I want to create and what are the steps to the top of that stair.

More later.

Did you choose “One Word” for 2014?

Watching the Today Show on January 1, I was fascinated to find an author, Jon Gordon, touting an alternative to the New Year’s resolutions that I, along with many others, annually make and rarely keep.

Although you can buy his book at Amazon (I haven’t yet, but might later), he explained his ‘one word’ premise – I’ve inserted a link to a free copy of a worksheet (not the book) that will help you choose your one word and get on with your new year.  He also encourages us to make our own “One Word” poster.

I chose CREATE as my one word for 2014. 

Definition:Bring something into existence, produce, generate, make, fabricate, fashion, build, construct, establish, initiate, launch, develop…

I like this new approach to a new year more than making a lengthy resolutions.  Rather than resurrecting that old list of Must Dos and Must Don’ts, that hasn't changed much in many years, I chose one word, an active verb, that encourages me to Create the life I want in 2014.  The possibilities are endless.

Although Gordon encourages us to make our poster from his website's free downloadable templates, I made my own using using PowerPoint and a sunrise photo I took a few years back that I am particularly fond of.

It will be in the center of the 2014 Vision Board I’m working on this week.

The Book:

I Once Thought 65 Was Really Old.

At 5, I remember thinking 65 was really old.  Now, at 64, my jet black hair a memory, and my 65^th birthday just around the corner - not so much.

I am sometimes utterly amazed that I’ve been on this planet so long, as I’ve always been one of those people others say ‘burns the candle at both ends.’ 

Lately, I’ve been pondering the next 3rd of my life.  Yes, I think I’ll make it to ninety-something, but not as some doughy old lady.

I can’t prevent getting old, but I can certainly prevent being a fat, infirm, old person.  A very real danger if I don’t begin doing something about it now.

Somewhere around 58, I started slipping, and I can’t really put my finger on any one reason.  I’ve been 128 pounds/size 7 with an occasional foray into 5’s (stress) as long as I can remember.

I think it was a combination – a not-so-perfect storm:  A sedentary job at Saks I knew would end in lay-offs, as the company was slowly divesting itself of all its properties; menopause that although symptomless in my case, slowed my metabolism; eight months on unemployment followed 6 months later by another year on unemployment; and finally, meniscus knee surgery that kept me from walking my morning 5 miles.

I’ve been looking at the scale for a while now and I don’t like what it says.  I look in the mirror and it confirms the numbers – 50 pounds in 6 years.

I’ve never dieted.  Not sure I know how.  In truth, I don’t think it’s about food.  I kept a diary and I eat about 1200 calories a day.  I think it’s the happy hours with friends – all those gratuitous calories in beer, wine, etc.

What Now?

Day 23 Again only 2500 words & 1 Blog Today NaNo / NaBlo

Day 23 of NaNoWriMo Wordcount 46,777/ NaBloPoMo (23 for 23) 

Rainy day view from my aerie

So far, so good.  The Blog a day is pretty much a rambling journal entry with excerpts from my WIP (work in progress aka my NaNo Novel).  Piece of cake for someone used to journaling daily.  I just have to remember not to err on the side of TMI.  I can also schedule it to drop around 7pm when most of my followers might actually see and read it.  Still have way more followers on my WordPress blog (265) which I post identically to my Blogspot blog (25).  No clue, why. First of the year, I'll probably upgrade WordPress.

Keeping up my momentum on the novel’s wordcount is not as easy, but I’m still ahead of schedule.  I keep reminding myself to just write, just write, just write.  I fell 1000 short of the 3500 words I wanted to do yesterday (Friday) and again today, but I have lots to do that does not involve writing and if I get back to 3500 on Sunday, I’ll  cross the 50,000 word finish line even if I have not really finished the novel.  

I have, as I think I mentioned earlier, written the last chapter however thin it appears right now.  I saw it and had to get it down then and there and then go back to driving my plot and characters toward that endgame. 

I should have run errands yesterday while the weather was mere wet, today is damned cold, and I’d rather stay in with my little heater whirring away, but gotta stock up for Thanksgiving, etc.

Excerpt from Murder is a Primary Color:Kane

James was listening, grim-mouthed, and the ghostly apparition just sat and wept.  A noise at the door alerted them all that they had another listener.  James was up in a flash, out the door and down the stairs in hot pursuit of Kane.

Jade, close behind him, sent out her mind touch to follow Kane and reach out to him and find something that would make him traceable in case he escaped.  Brie leaped to the window and the white lioness leaped to the ground and brought the big man down.

A deafening roar shook the trees and birds scattered before the ancient threat.  The maid and cook ran from the kitchen to the back to see what was going on and were aghast.  Mr. Kane lay face up in utter terror and upon his chest was the small white cat they had fed earlier. 

James came up and Sabrina leapt aside to watch.  Kane stared, first in confusion then anger overtook him.  "Illusion, damned, illusion" and his eyes met the cats and there was a barrier to further examination.  Then he raised his eyes as James cuffed him, and he saw Jade and his icy stare hardened more.  "Witch!  You don't know who you're dealing with.  You just don't know."

Jade's schooled stone face belied the chill of icy cats’ paws down her back.  This was just a dance of fencers, a feint and parry and the battle as yet not joined.  She knew it in her bones.

Mañana y’all.

Writing is easy, editing is a pain

Took a sick day to keep from spreading my cold cooties around the workplace.  Worked on the the Journaling e-book some this morning, but it's slow going since I've begun the editing process.

Writing it was easy, but this going back and editing, formatting, expanding the thin parts, adding explanations where needed, compiling examples, zeroing in on helpful links and books for the recommended reading is tedious and seemingly endless.

I always like to hear how others do something I love to do.  I'm not just telling how I have published and been paid for stories I got from the pages of my personal journal, but showing what famous authors have to say about the value of a journal.

I think best with a pen in my hand, so I write alot on the pages of my journal for this ebook.  The handwritten pages become the first draft, because as I transcribe them into word, I edit, add, change, expand.  It's a way to edit that is more palatable that sitting over a manuscript with a red pen.

Writing to the Rain

Writing and watching the rain just outside my window.  Looking forward to doing this full time early 2013.  Can't wait until every is spent here in my aerie being creative.  Retiring from the day job by March 30.

All kinds of good things happening.  The art is coming along, photography projects shaping up.  But my first love, writing is finally taking shape.  It's a new world out there now that books have gone digital, and self-published is no longer a dirty word. 

A year of posting poetry on my Blog has given me a poetry book.  Years of journaling and getting journal entries published has helped with my journaling e-book.  They both need a bit more polishing before I launch next them next week.  Then there are the 2 novels I wrote during NaNoWriMo.

I would never have gotten this far with out help from the gentleman who created what he calls the Ultimate EBook Creator.

If not for the free trial, I would never have tried it.  I've bought a lot of such things only to be disappointed at how complicated they are, but I bought the whole thing before my 7-day free trial was over.  I only post links of things I like and use.  When I review a book I like, I post its link to Amazon.  Well I like Nitin's software and I'm posting a link here.  Thing is, you can try it for free and say no thanks or, like me, say oh yeah an buy it.  This guy is very service oriented, too.  He has answered every email with complete answers and free tutorials to to other useful tools.


Ultimate EBook Creator