MaY

May is MY month. At least I'm hoping it is. My goal is to complete the first draft of my novel by the end of May. And I'm asking you, my loyal readers, for your help and support. I will be posting weekly page/word counts. Help me keep on track, and encourage me, please. I need a deadline and I'm hoping this will light my fire, so to speak. So all those of you who said we would go to lunch, I'm taking you up on that. Let's do lunch and when we do, demand my word count for the day. I thank you all for the encouragement you have all given me and I promise this book is dedicated to you all!

The Mulberry Tree

There is a mulberry tree in my backyard. This is not so surprising because there are lots of mulberry trees in lots of peoples' yards, or at least there were before they were banned in Clark County because they produce a lot of pollen. (This makes me really ma because they are great trees that don't need a lot of water and produce a great deal of shade but hey, we wouldn't want people to have seasonal allergies, would we?) But the mulberry tree in my backyard is special, because it is a fruiting mulberry. Most of the mulberry trees in Las Vegas are the non-fruiting variety. But every spring this tree produces fat little deep purple berries.

If you have never tasted a mulberry, they don't taste like much, they are just a sweet, sweet berry that look a lot like a little blackberry. They don't keep well so I guess that's why you don't see them in the grocery store. I used to climb the tree and eat the berries until my face and hands were purple and my feet were stained from the berries on the ground. Our family dog, Velvet, loved them too, she would eat them off of the ground all day long. Bird love the mulberries too, although our cars don't like the birds after they have enjoyed the berries. Mulberries are tough to pick since they don't want to come off of the tree until they are very ripe, then they just fall and it can be hard to catch them. But as a desert rat I thought it was amazing that we had this fruit tree in our backyard.

The truly amazing thing is that nobody ever planted this tree. It sprouted up one day along the fence and my grandfather, who loved to garden, didn't have the heart to kill it. So he let it grow. There are no other fruiting mulberries in our neighborhood so we don't know how it even came to be. But it grew into a large tree. Much to my consternation as a child, the low branches of the tree were all on the neighbors side of the fence, and they were not as enthralled with the tree as I was, so they nearly always cut the limbs on their side back to the fence line.

The mulberry tree isn't doing so well. Many of it's limbs are dying back. Mulberry trees aren't supposed to live more than twenty-five years anyway according to one website, although the trees in my neighborhood didn't get the memo because they have all been around since the early sixties, which makes them over forty years old. But this winter I fussed and fretted over my mulberry tree because I was worried it wasn't going to come back. It came back, although we need to have it's dead branches cut back this fall. But I could see that it was an old tree. Then I noticed something. At the base of my old mulberry, a new mulberry tree was growing. The little tree that nobody planted was growing a new little tree to replace itself with. The new little tree has mulberries on it. Not many, just a few, but it is a sure sign that this new little tree is alive and thriving.

There is a moral to my story, at least there is for me. Don't give up. And when life gets difficult and you aren't sure you can make it, come at it from a different angle. Plant fresh roots. You will survive, even if it's not in the way you thought it would be. You will still blossom and bloom. And even when nobody thinks they wanted you, if you stick it out, people will come around to appreciate you for your amazing strength, unique beauty and triumph of spirit.



This is a picture of "The Mulberry Tree" by Van Gogh. It hangs in the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California. It's considered one of his lesser works. He painted it in the fall of 1889 while he was committed to a mental facility in Saint-Remy. (I guess even he figured that cutting off your own ear is not a good sign, sanity wise.) The first time I saw it I stared at it for a long time. I could gaze at it forever. It's in a style called impasto, where the paint is so thick it looks three dimensional. It looks a bit like the work of a man in the nut house but that's what makes it so interesting. You can almost feel the emotions Van Gogh felt while he was painting it. It is my favorite painting. (My second favorite hangs at the Getty Museum and is of the Rouen Cathedral by Monet - yes, I'm a big fan of the impressionists.) I like the Van Gogh painting even more now that I have found great inspiration in my own mulberry tree. I hope you find your mulberry tree.

Tired of the News

My family watches the news...a lot. A whole lot. If it were up to my Grandmother we would watch nothing but news. I don't think she actually pays that much attention but she always has CNN or Fox News on. And we watch the local news too. But it's the same five stories over and over again. They will run a story to the point you want to cry uncle. Here are my takes on the most recent dead horses they have been beating.

The polygamy compound in Texas - I don't care and I don't want to hear any more about it. Figure out who those kids belong to, give them back to their parents if they aren't in danger of eminent harm and shut up. Look, if everyone was over eighteen, of appropriate mental capacity and consenting, then I don't care if you marry one or one hundred wives. Just don't abuse the welfare system and quit marrying little girls.

The price of gas - Gas is expensive. I get it. But quit telling me how expensive it is. I know how expensive it is, I have to buy gas. It doesn't make me feel better when you tell me every day that it's going to be eve more expensive. Tell me when the price goes down. But until then, shut up already.

The economy- We're in a recession. It happens. Every eleven years or so. Let's not make it worse by telling me constantly how bad it is. I get it. I see how much food costs, I go to the grocery store. We aren't stupid, we get it. But hitting us over the head with how bad we have it, that's just mean.

The green movement - Save the planet. Earth Day. Going 'green'. These are the same things we have been hearing for more than twenty years. Don't run the water while you are brushing your teeth. Turn the lights off when you leave the room. I'm so over it. I'll do my part but I can't do the part of billions of Chinese and other developing countries. So tell them, not me.

The election - Call me in November.

Okay, rant over.

Before

We are painting the house today (and by "we" I mean that I helped pick out the colors, not that I am doing any of the work or paying for any of it). So here is the 'before' picture.

Breath deeply. Now pick up the pen.

This has been a tough week for me. There has been a big crisis-of-faith when it comes to my writing. I keep wondering if it's going fast enough, if it's good enough, if I chose to do the right thing. There is a voice in my head that is impossible to silence. It speaks to me constantly. Sometimes it says complimentary things and encourages me but more often it is negative and tells me that I'm not good enough, not smart enough and it tells me to give up. I have to admit that, through whatever graces have blessed me, that most of the things I have wanted to achieve have come to me. But perhaps it is because this dream has been with me so long and held so close and dear to my heart that it instills the greatest fear of failure that I have ever known. It was always easy to define myself before...I was a student or an assistant office manager or a comic. But I still feel like a bit of an impostor, defining myself as a writer. I don't know why this is but I feel like a fraud. I write, every day, but I still don't know how to define myself as a writer. This journey is probably one of the most soul searching experiences of my life and it's scary. There is probably a reason why we don't soul search very often as it's sometimes not a pretty place to look. Nothing worse than doing some soul searching to find out you don't have one!

I went looking for some inspiration today in the form of quotes from other writers and these are a few that struck major chords in my heart.

The work never matches the dream of perfection the artist has to start with. - William Faulkner

The future belongs to those who believe in their dreams. - Eleanor Roosevelt

And this one I'm going to keep with me as I go back to my pen and paper today. It actually comes from one of my favorite writer/actor/comedians. It gives me a little tiny bit of perspective today when I feel I am struggling in a sea of doubt.

I think I did pretty well, considering I started out with nothing but a bunch of blank paper. - Steve Martin

Garden Update

Here is the latest picture of my garden. It survived my absence and is doing well. The leaves look like I floured them because some pests were eating all of my herbs and so I sprinkled an organic pesticide on them. I didn't spend all that time and money to feed the bugs!

My tomatoes are growing and I can't wait for them to ripen! We've eaten some herbs but I'm anxiously awaiting the day I can make salad caprese with my tomatoes and basil.

Dis-Courtesy

Yesterday at the grocery store when I came out to my car the person next to me had parked so crooked in the space that there was less than six inches to open my car door. Anyone who has seen my butt knows it takes more than six inches for me to get into my car. With no idea how long the person would be in the store and my ice cream melting, I used some yoga moves and contortions worthy of a Cirque du Soleil performer and got into my car but it wasn't fun and it really wasn't pretty. But ass and ego aside, it was infuriating because someone cared so little about others and so much about themselves that the three seconds it would have taken for them to park correctly was less important than their need to get into the store quickly.

What gives a person the sense of entitlement that it's okay for them to do things like that? Why do some people feel that they are more important than the rest of us? We have all had it happen. Like the guy who, even though it was clearly marked two miles back and with orange safety cones for the last mile that the lane was going to end, who drives it to the last possible second and then expects to merge even though the rest of us got over when we were supposed to. Or the woman who, even though you have been waiting in line for twenty minutes in front of her, runs to the next check stand when it opens instead of waiting patiently for her turn. What arrogance and conceit to believe that you are the important one.

Courtesy isn't that hard. But it's so rare these days that it seems monumental. People have been surprised when my brother held a door for them. A couple thanked me profusely when I helped an elderly man down a couple of stairs. Other drivers are amazed when we let them merge in front of us. Why? It takes so little effort to consider someone else and yet it's so hard to find.

Let's have one day where we put other peoples needs at least equal to our own. Where we use our turn signals and don't run red lights. Where we park correctly in spaces. Where we allow someone to go in front of us. Where we thank the people who help us. I know, it's a radical idea. Manners might make a comeback. I know it's a crazy idea, but it's worth a try.

Go Tesco!!!!

Tesco has announced ten more stores for it's Fresh & Easy Neighborhood Markets. Happy news. One of the new stores announced will be eight blocks from my house. Happy, Happy, Happy News!!!!! These stores are clean, well stocked, well priced and staffed by some darn nice people. I love Fresh and Easy and had read that they might be scaling back so I am so happy to hear that they are doing so well that they are expanding operations. And I hope that everyone will check them out (if you haven't already). The British are coming! (And it's a good thing this time!)

Gainfully Unemployed (Again)

So, I was hoping that the new 'job' was going to be the ideal situation..,working from home, a few hours a week, data entry type stuff. But honestly, they need a full time bookkeeper. So, while I had a great time with Bill in New Mexico, I called it quits when I could see that it wasn't going to be be what I needed and I wasn't going to be what they needed. It was an amicable parting and I hope they find a crackerjack bookkeeper to help them out because it's a really great company.

Sometimes I wonder why things happen in life (don't we all). I look at situations and try to figure out what the 'lesson' for my life was. I think the job taught me to focus on what I really want, which is writing, not bookkeeping. I got sidetracked a bit while I was in New Mexico and I now realize that I need a lot of focus to make my dreams come true. I have to give as much attention to my new career as I would any other job. In order to accomplish my goals I have to be as dedicated an employee to myself as I would be for anyone else. Important lesson for the 'year of writing dangerously'.

I am also grateful for the strengthening of my relationship with Bill. While I always felt we were great friends before, living and working together for three weeks really taught me about who he is and what he's about and I admire him greatly. Plus he's a great conversationalist, a thoughtful friend and an awesome singer. You are an inspiration Bill, and I thank you. I know that everything will work out as it should for your life but I can't help but selfishly wish an itty, bitty bit that you come back to Vegas.

So I leave the safety net I though this part time job would bring me, a little financial easement for my path. It's going to be rough but then I never thought this choice was going to be easy to begin with. Achieving ones dreams is rarely easy though, I guess. But some of the greatest experiences of m life have been when I just closed my eyes and jumped. So here I go. Wheeeee.

The Difference Between Men and Women

WARNING: This post may contain references to bodily functions that some loyal readers may find disturbing. Read at your own risk.

After years of research I have come to the conclusion that one of the biggest differences between men and women isn't psychological, it's scatological.

While this was a principal I vaguely understood from my childhood, I assumed that this was a primarily youth oriented difference that faded after adolescence. But after working as the only female in an office of ten men I now realize the division exists throughout adulthood as well.

Men have no problems discussing these body functions. There was only one bathroom in the office and therefore it was unisex. But all courtly kindness flew out the window when it came to using the bathroom for it's intended purpose. Not only did the men use the bathroom but they issued warnings about it's smell, bragged about their emissions and made vast joking references to the act. I heard phrases like "pinch one off", "drop off a load" and "ordering a ten inch number two". Men were not only not concerned about talking about this particular bodily function but actually seemed proud of the act and rather enjoyed the references. Male oriented movies are so full of scatological humor that I have actually gagged at some references. The 'poop and fart' genre of movies is vastly popular with all males from eleven to eighty-seven.

This is vastly different in the female of the species. Women will go to great, and dangerous, lengths to avoid performing this act in public, and sometimes even in private. I know a woman who would run the bathroom sink so that her husband did not know when she used the bathroom. Apparently letting him think she was OCD with a compulsive hand washing fetish was okay. Keep in mind that this same woman allowed her husband to videotape the births of her children (and not from over her shoulder, either) which she would then show to all and sundry but still wouldn't let her husband know that she poo'd. Strange logic if you ask me.

I admit that while I'm not ashamed to my biological necessities, I don't see the need to flaunt them as the males do. There is no need to hold someones head under the covers after flatulence. But I'm not so prudish as to think that one must hide all evidence of humanness from one's mate. I have another friend, a delightful woman from Atlanta, who once said "I could never poot in front of a man". Why? Because it's not ladylike? But everyone on the planet does it. And isn't that what a committed relationship is all about? No longer holding in gas to the point of potential explosion just so your partner won't hear that you break wind? My uncle and his friend once had a flatulence contest (as adults, mind you). I'm not sure what the rules or prizes were but I can tell you that no woman in her right mind would EVER do such a thing!

I'm not suggesting that to come to a complete understanding between the genders, we must adopt all of the other sexes mannerisms. Gosh forbid. I don't want to see women bragging about the size of their emissions any more than I want men to do it. But I do think women should relax a little and men should tighten it up. More research may need to be done on why there is such a huge gap in genders when it comes to scatological references. But I'm not going to do it. Now pardon me, I have to go, er, wash my hands.

Back on Track

Okay, so I have been home a week now and I think I'm finally back on track. It's tough to be gone so long and it was really tough not to write anything for that long and then get back into the swing. I am only two weeks away from the deadline for the Nicholl Fellowship which means I only have a week really to get "Arnie" in ship shape. The deadline for the Disney Fellowship appears to be June first so I have only six weeks to write a spec television script. Hey, I work best under pressure, right?

I wrote several new sketches for Smidgits this week, including collaborating on a new movie spoof called "Brick Morgan" which will shoot in two weeks and my homage to the ninja genre called "Blind Date with a Ninja" that should shoot in three weeks depending on the availability of the Ninja. It felt really good to write and have my stuff read by the cast and crew. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I also came up with two new movie ideas. I'm firing on multiple cylinders now!

For those that were wondering, my mom and grandma survived my New Mexico adventure, although the freezer is bare as apparently they ate lots of TV dinners while I was gone. I did all of the cooking last week as my mother has been working lots of hours at the bread store (who knew the discount bread biz was so demanding!) I'm still planning this weeks menu but I thank gosh I'm back in the land of Fresh & Easy. And my B.J. gave me a hug and welcomed me back, isn't that nice? I just love that store. Please support your local Fresh & Easy, I want them to do well.

If anyone is interested, I'm hoping to catch "CJ7" at the movies this week. It's the new film from Steven Chow of Kung Fu Hustle fame. Love him, think this one looks pretty good. If you want to go with me, let me know. Hope to see some of my loyal readers soon. Love to you all and now it's time to get a writin'! Love to you all.

Where Do I Live?

Recently someone asked me where in Las Vegas I lived and I realized it's a question I don't have a good answer for.

When I was growing up, it was easy to answer. I lived in the far Northwest. Jones was the farthest major street in the western part of the Valley and it ended four blocks from my house. Yes, there were some people who lived farther West or farther North but they probably owned horses. In any case, if I said Northwest when I was a kid, people knew exactly where I was talking about. (The area I live in actually does have a name, it's called Charleston Heights but no one calls it that, not that they ever did.)

As I got older and the town started growing it became more complicated. When I would say Northwest, they would ask if I lived in Summerlin. Nope, not that far West. Desert Shores was too far North. But I just said Jones and the Expressway and that was clear enough.

Well, now very few people call it the expressway any more. (Believe me, when it was built it as way more 'express' than it is now.) Now people tell me they live off of Jones and the 215 and I get confused. (I'm a dang native for cryin' out loud and I don't know where people mean half the time!) The town has grown so fast and so furiously that old landmarks are gone and descriptions change daily. My house that used to be on the edge of nowhere is now towards the middle of town.

So I have decided to rename the area in which I live "North Central Las Vegas". Because now that the town stretches far in every direction around me, it is pretty central. And we are still North of the dividing line, even if it isn't as far North as it used to be. It'll also give our neighborhood some street 'cred' to be called North Central LV. So l hereby re-christen where I live and I ask you all to start calling it by it's new name. Hopefully we won't have to change it's name again anytime soon.

I'm HOME!!!!!!

Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home.

I'm home from my New Mexico adventure and it was wonderful to sleep in my own bed. I got home and hugged my dog, my mom and my grandma. (Yes, in that order but only because my Grandma didn't run into the yard to greet me, tail wagging.)

I will miss the guys I was working with, the no crowds on the road and the ice cream. But I'm so glad to be in a place with multiple grocery stores, a Target and my family. And I am so happy to be home and writing again!!!!!! New Mexico was full of twelve hour days and no writing time, ugh. Back to work (the work I love and was meant to do.)

I will really miss Bill. We had a lot of thoughtful and intelligent conversations and I had an awesome time with him (although my calves are still killing me after our zillion mile hike through Carlsbad Caverns on Saturday). It was great to hang out with someone who shared my love of barbecue, ice cream and books. Plus he is always singing and it's cool to hear someone who truly loves music (he also plays guitar and I liked hearing him practice.) And he's such a good guy he let me have sole custody of the remote control and he contained (mostly) his disdain for my watching Big Brother and has decided to not hold my plebeian television viewing habits against me. I love you Bill and I wish for you all the happiness you deserve. Thanks for making my stay infinitely more enjoyable. And not many guys would willingly watch Pride and Prejudice with me, thanks!

Today I have a list of chores a mile long to get my life back to 'normal'. I should be back to blogging daily. Thanks for sticking with me, loyal readers.

Always Late for the Party

So, April Fool's Day has come and gone and once again I missed it. It happens every year. I think of some great prank in say, August or November, and think to myself, "I have to remember that" and then I don't. Or I don't remember until April second. And so it was once again this year.

I know it was April Fool's Day, I did. At one point during the day the base went to FPCON Delta (which for you civilians like me means you have to stay put in your office and not even stick your nose out the door until you go to FPCON Charlie - we are normally at FPCON Alpha). Even though I knew the base was on exercises I still wondered if it was an April Fool's joke. (I was informed that the U.S. military does not joke - EVER. Apparently our Uncle Sam has no sense of humor. And I'll admit that it wasn't funny to see those soldiers, er, excuse me, airmen, in flack jackets and combat helmets patrolling around...even if I knew it was just an exercise.)

I even caught the joke on Google about the colonization of Mars. Funny stuff and it must have taken a while for them to put it all together. But I didn't do anything to commemorate the day. Maybe it's because I'm far from home, with a group of guys who think 'pull my finger' is the height of classic comedy, on a military base which does not appreciate my quirky sense of humor. But truthfully, I suspect that it's because I'm a terrible practical joker. So every year I think I should do something on April Fool's Day and every year I'm a 'day late and a dollar short'.

So I hope you had a great April Fools that was full of laughter and fun. And next year, I'll have a great prank planned. (Not)