Between the Book Covers
There I was, working at the library on a cold blustery Saturday. I’d gone out into the freezing cold and unlocked the green steel after-hours return bin. I’d filled a big blue IKEA shopping bag with all the books and DVDs that had been dropped through the door.
I’d hauled the bag back inside to the circ desk, separated and stacked the books and magazines and opened each of the DVD cases to be sure the disk was inside. I’d backdated the system and scanned the bar codes on everything to process the returns. I’d separated out the new books and put them back on the new shelf right away. I’d put the paperbacks, nonfiction, YA fiction, and hard cover fiction on their own areas of the return cart.
Then I noticed that one of the hardcover fiction titles on the cart appeared to have some crumpled pages or something, or at least the top of the book wasn’t closed up tight.
I pulled the book off the cart, a James Patterson title, and took a closer look. Oh! Something was stuck inside the book. The book opened easily to the page where the object was wedged inside.
It is a kleenex. A crumpled kleenex. A crumpled kleenex with unidentified brownish substance clearly visible on its surface.
Gah!
A crumpled kleenex with an unidentified brownish substance clearly visible on its surface that I prayed was the product of someone’s late night reading session with leftover Valentine’s chocolates.
I gingerly lifted the offending object out of book with thumb and index finger and dropped it into the garbage, then dove for the bottle of hand sanitizer.
Please, remove your personal items from your borrowed materials before you return them. Circulation clerks everywhere will thank you.
© Lizann Flatt, www.lizannflatt.com
No part of this blog may be used without written permission from the author.
No part of this blog may be used without written permission from the author.
Of Politics and Poop
So last week I was out driving and I came across a municipal election sign with a toilet seat draped over it. How eloquent!
I laughed so hard I nearly drove off the narrow road.
I couldn’t take a picture of that particular sight, much as I wanted to. I felt it wouldn’t be fair to the candidate because there was no way to hide the identity of the beseated individual. But now that the election is over and all the signs have disappeared from the landscape, I keep thinking about this incident. It brings to mind a story starting point.
What if a kid saw someone had done that to his or her parent’s election sign? Do you want your parent to be mayor? Would this make you angry or make you ready to die of embarrassment? Or what if this happened to a teen’s election sign if they were running for high school or class president? Would you get to the bottom (pun intended) of who did it? Would you ignore it? Laugh it off? Stew in silence? Hmmm.
Okay, so you’d have to add a lot more. But it’s a start. Go run with it.
© Lizann Flatt, www.lizannflatt.com
No part of this blog may be used without written permission from the author.
No part of this blog may be used without written permission from the author.
Still Slacking into September
I’ve been AWOL! How did that happen?
A story to illustrate the state of the union chez moi. The kids came home from one of the first few days of school last week with this story. Paraphrasing:
“Mommy, the exhaust pipe fell off the bus this morning so we had to get on the high school bus and she turned the wrong way on the highway and then we had to do the last part of our route backwards.”
Disclaimer: wrong way means not the way the route should go, not as in going south in the northbound lane, which sadly happens a few times a year around here.
What does that illustrate? It’s like a metaphor for my writing life the last couple months!
Yep, my exhaust pipe fell off somewhere. What writing have I done recently? Ahem, nothing. Between volunteer jobs taking over my life, going to work very part time (more on that in another post), dealing with regular family maintenance, and stupid allergies that make me look and feel like I’ve had about 2 hours sleep–oh wait a second, sometimes that might be true–I haven’t had an inch of head space for writing projects.
And now I feel guilty about that.
You know all that writing advice that says stuff like just write? make it a priority? you’ve got to treat it like a job? do it everyday? writers write? just plant your heiney in a chair and get writing? Yeah, I hear it and it makes sense but when I just can’t manage it I feel like a bit of a failure.
Sometimes your family has to come first. Sometimes they need to be fed. Sometimes they need you to help them put Barbie’s hair in a ponytail. Sometimes you have to work to make money to pay the bills. Sometimes you have to step up to help with extra curricular activities your kids love or they won’t be available. Sometimes you just have to catch a few moments enjoying the sunshine and your flowers and watch the vibrant green of summer turn to the mellow gold of fall or you’ll go insane.
But I’m trying to claw my way back to writing. Maybe now that the kids are back into a school routine I might have a bit more time to write some days. Maybe the volunteer duties will settle down for a bit. Maybe the first frost will come soon and kill all the nasal and sinus irritating pollen producing plants.
My return to writing feels awkward and sporadic and like I’m coming at it all backwards right now. But maybe one day I’ll find all this supposed distraction sowed some good seeds, gave me some fantastic fodder, for future writing. Or am I just kidding myself?
Time will tell. But in the meantime, if you’re a writer who sometimes feel like this, let’s not beat ourselves up too much. Okay?
© Lizann Flatt, www.lizannflatt.com
No part of this blog may be used without written permission from the author.
No part of this blog may be used without written permission from the author.
Me and Iced Tea from Nancy D.
Every summer I keep a steady supply of iced tea in my fridge. I make it from a recipe I’ve had since I was, oh, 10 or something. It’s straight from my copy of The Nancy Drew Cookbook: Clues to Good Cooking, copyright 1973, my edition printed in 1975.
I keep making this recipe because it’s the best iced tea I’ve ever had. There’s a secret ingredient in the tea: real mint leaves added while the tea is hot and steeping. The practical side of me likes the added benefit of making use of the mint that threatens to overrun a corner of my backyard.
The nostalgic side of me likes to pull out this recipe book because I get to remember what it was like to make this tea when I was young.
When making any recipe was a real accomplishment.
When I spent my summers reading in the shade on the patio swing.
When I built forts in the treeline with my best friend.
When my best friend and I climbed the old cherry trees in her yard and ate all the cherries we could reach.
When evenings were full of games of kick the can or ghost in the graveyard.
When summer stretched out in front of me like an endless expanse of possibility.
So I’m off now to make another batch of tea. You’re welcome to join me.
© Lizann Flatt, www.lizannflatt.com
No part of this blog may be used without written permission from the author.
No part of this blog may be used without written permission from the author.