Gustav drives me to distraction...

should be writing...instead, can't stop watching Gustav move like a purple people eater through the Gulf of Mexico. As regular readers of MacLeanSpace know, I've spent a lot of time in New Orleans since Katrina, working on a variety of Education-based projects. I've seen firsthand the challenges facing the people--and especially the kids--there...poverty, healthcare, education, housing and more. Every one of the kids I've met there has a tragic story related to Katrina...family members dying, parents with addiction problems, PTSD and more. The kids and the schools are just now getting back on track--many of them had their first full year of normal school back in New Orleans last year. 

And now...it starts all over again.

good luck, Louisiana. you're going to need it.

Quote of the Day

I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.
~Jorge Luis Borges

Supermarket Singles

ok...so i know i said that i was going on vacation and that i might not post...but i read this article in this morning's Providence Journal and I couldn't help it.

For singles, the aisles of a supermarket have a certain romance to them, with possibility seemingly around every corner display of baked beans.

And for a “how we met” story, little can top chatting over a shared love of kumquats, or bumping heads reaching for a bag of kitty litter.

So the local organic foods market in Providence decided to take fate into their own hands and host a "singles night." 75 people showed up, each was given a nametag with a food item on it. Their task? Find their match. Chips and Salsa, Hot Chocolate and Marshmallows, Milk and Cookies. A-dorable. So. Cheesy. So Fun!

Maybe this just appeals to the silly romantic in me...but I read the article beginning to end...and I couldn't help but grin the whole time. The only thing that would have made the article more fun to read is if it sported the headline "Piggly in search of Wiggly." Yes...cookie found milk and hot chocolate found marshmallow (although there's no indication that "found" in this context means anything more than, quite literally, discovering the other person), but chips unfortunately did not find her salsa...it was a tale for the ages. sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and sometimes, you end up buying a pint of Haagen Daaz and vowing to try it next time. Which, in this case, for you single Rhode Islanders is in October at the Whole Foods in University Heights.

As a marketer by day, I always appreciate ideas like this...You've got a supermarket...everyone in history has had a supermarket crush...why not make the fantasy a reality? And why stop at supermarkets? How about bookstores? Coffee shops? Sporting Supply Stores? Hardware Stores! Lord knows there are enough singletons out there who would be grateful for being able to forgo the bar scene. After all, no great love story ever began..."We met at a bar."

guess where i'm going?

i'm going to be a ladybug on the beach. :) until sunday. i might see you, internet...but i might not. :)

xoxo

Thank you, Internet!

4000 words today...I'll take it. 

And, as promised...meet Callie.

One would have to be severely touched to think of Lady Calpurnia Hartwell as anything close to Cleopatra. For one thing, Callie had never laid a man low with her beauty—something Cleopatra was extraordinarily skilled at doing. No, Cleopatra did not share Callie’s ordinary brown hair and ordinary brown eyes. Nor could the Queen of Egypt be described as plump. Nor could Callie imagine Cleopatra ever being left on the edge of a ballroom for the entirety of a ball. And, she was certain, there was absolutely no evidence that the Queen of Egypt wore a lace cap.

Unfortunately, the same things could not be said about Callie.

My sacrifice to the Internet gods.

in which the author is distracted by patent leather

I woke up this morning completely committed to the goal of writing 5000 words today. I know, I know...it sounds like a lot, but it's not an impossible feat for me if 1) I'm totally focused on the writing and 2) don't immediately move to the couch and watch a movie.

Unfortunately, this morning I blew it. I took the dog for a walk, came home with an iced coffee and a bagel and watched Kinky Boots. I'm a complete and utter sucker for any movie revolving around British working class characters (see Full Monty, Waking Ned Divine and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day), so I knew I'd love it, and I did.  It was sweet and charming and funny and utterly predictable in a wonderful, heartfelt way.  Eric, of course, moaned and groaned at the start, but ended up liking it too. Bottom line? If it comes on the cable, watch it.

Now, I'm 4 hours late in starting, but I'm hoping to make up for lost time. Leave me alone, Internet...and maybe, if you're good, I'll post a little teaser of the project I'm working on later today.

YOGAmazing

I've written about YOGAmazing before...but today I did a class with Chaz called Yoga for Creativity...and I just had to write about it.  

For those of you who aren't familiar with the show, Chaz takes email requests from viewers and creates 30 minute yoga sessions for them.  Recently, he's done Yoga for Gardeners, Yoga for Summer, Yoga for Hips and Knees, and Yoga for PMS & Cramps (a great one!). Today's session (which is actually from May) was in response to a writer who wrote in asking for a workout that would help get the juices flowing and the muses talking.  Chaz just free flowed the whole workout...everything from downward dog to crow pose.  

It was challenging and fast and terrific. And I'm feeling really jazzed about my writing plans today. Even though it's 3:30 in the afternoon and the sun is sinking and I've done nothing but watch the olympics.  But i console myself with the fact that it was fencing...and there's a fencing scene in my next book...so research is important, right?

I forget how much I like doing yoga...it makes me feel so relaxed and energized and, after the week I've had, I could seriously use the destressing.  

Other musings you might enjoy...

Poetry for Karma Repair

A Genius Speaks of Love

Yoga. Yogi. Yogurt.

The New Orleans Debutante Tradition

Debutantes are big in Louisiana...especially in New Orleans. It's certainly the French influence...after all, the word debutante comes from the French débuter, which means "to begin." And New Orleans is nothing if not French-influenced (see Cafe du Monde, The Vieux Carre and the best cajun food you can find anywhere on earth).

Post Katrina, though, the debutante community in Louisiana suffered. Today's Times Picayune tells the story of Lynn Lewis, who was royal princess for the Swan's club in 1977, and who followed in a line of friends and family members who had their own Season as part of the Swan's Club in Kenner, LA.  Her two eldest daughters had their own seasons in the late 90s, but her youngest, Candace, was due for her own cotillion in December 2005, just months after the hurricane ravaged the Gulf Coast.  

Because of Katrina, the biannual cotillion was put on hold, and Candace couldn't have her coming out. 

"We had to worry about recovery and rebuilding everything," Swans President Idella Washington said. "We weren't sure when we were going to be able to have the ball, but we knew eventually we would."

But, things are finally back on track:

On July 26, for the first time since 2002, the Swan's Club celebrated its 25th anniversary and presented its Debutante Cotillion at the Marriott Hotel in New Orleans. This year's theme: "A Debs Dream: Believing and Achieving.""

And the best part?  After hours of etiquette and waltz instruction, a scrapbook and essay contest, a presentation tea, and a Mother's Day event at one of the local churches,.Candace Lewis was named queen of the ball.

I couldn't have written that one better.

***

In other news, I had brunch today with fellow debutantes Sarah Rees Brennan, Sarah Cross and Sarah Ockler...yes...four Sarah's at one table at Chat 'n' Chew and there was no rip in the space time continuum. Not that we didn't try our best. It was very fun...and so great to chill with a group of brilliant new writers.

Now, I have to be self-disciplined and stop watching Mad Men so I can write. Wish me luck!

mike doughty reminds me why i love writing...

I'm cleaning the house, so I can't really sit and chat, but I was inspired to write a quick blog post.   I have this issue with music.  While some people have music playing in the background at all times, I can't listen to it unless I'm doing something mindless, like cleaning the house...and this is because, as eric puts it, I don't actually listen to music.  I listen to lyrics. 

This is also why I tend to listen to the same collection of albums over and over...only when a song's lyrics are committed to my memory is it added to my "top rated" list, which is always played at ear-splitting, baxter-fleeing decibels while I clean/workout/chill.  Today, my album of choice is Mike Doughty's Golden Delicious.  Now, not to sound like an obnoxious music lover, but I've been a Mike Doughty fan since he was the genius behind Soul Coughing.  Soft Serve is one of my favorite songs of all time.  Long story short, he kicked several addictions and turned into what eric refers to as "the kind of music my mom would listen to." But to this I say, Mike Doughty has become a poet.  And this is ok by me.  Because, as with Ani Difranco, Fiona Apple and other songwriters whom I deeply respect, he reminds me why I can't imagine being anything other than a writer. 

Case in point: 

In his I Wrote a Song about Your Car, he asks: Will you be my friend?  Or will you be a friend of mine? 

Such a loaded question...such a perfect example of how words, in the wrong order, are weighted so very differently, have such a vastly different meaning. 

And, as your cookie for reading all the way to the end, here's a video of the man himself playing an acoustic version of this song in what I can only imagine is his living room.  enjoy!

Salman Rushdie Forced Into The Closet

Best headline of an article ever:

Salman Rushdie locked in cupboard while fatwa police protection team went to pub.

Awesome.

The article isn't as fun as the headline, but still.

Via Booksquare. Thanks!