Bad Race, Green Trees, and Summer

Sigh. I've been putting off posting about the Cup race last Saturday night, hoping I could find some nice words to describe what was, ultimately, a boring race. Yawn-inspiring. Go-home-early. Wish we had.

What was wrong, I don't know. Single-file parades around a 3/4 mile track don't happen often, but they did on Saturday. I can't remember a single Richmond race with less drama or excitement. The last fifteen laps put on a show, but until then, I couldn't have cared less. Okay, enough negativity. I'm not going to think about it again.

Working on SIGNS. After 160 pages, I've decided the 'voice' is all wrong, so it's back to square one. Some of us take longer to figure out a book's issues than others. I count myself among those who hang onto the original vision after it's clear it's not working much, much too tenaciously. The good news is, the rewrites are feeling 'right,' so I'm a happy camper. Well, getting to the 'happy' part.

Summer is here with all its humidity and glorious greenery. I realized yesterday how much I missed the green trees during the past long, cold, and dreary winter. Trees in full glory make me happy, and remind me that all is right with the world. And on that simple truth, it's time I got back to work. . . .

Revisiting the past

While browsing the used book shop, I came across an old, old copy of EAGLE OF THE NINTH by Rosemary Sutcliff. I couldn't wait to get it home - I remember reading the book in one big gulp when I was a kid. I was the bookish child who read constantly, so much so that my mother would have to throw me out of the house to get some fresh air. (This changed a bit once horses came into my life, but books ranked right up there with saddles and boots.) Historical fiction was my mainstay, and Rosemary Sutcliff was the queen of that domain. When T.H.White's THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING came out, his book was the only one dealing with the Arthur legend that came anywhere near equalling Miss Sutcliff's mastery of that tale. (I read that one in school, non-stop, holding it under my desk and pretending to study whatever the lesson was in class. Got caught by my history teacher, who checked out TOAFK, handed it back to me, and said "keep reading.")

I didn't realize Miss Sutcliff was crippled by juvenile arthritis until reading a biography recently. Despite her physical handicap, she wrote active, living, breathing, filled-with-life heroes. History came alive in their adventures. Inspiration comes to writers in many forms, and I can say, in all sincerity, that Rosemary Sutcliff was an author who inspired me. One day, I hope to achieve half her skill, style, and power with the written word. I should thank her as well for inspiring me to take Latin in school. Latin saved my fanny when it comes to English grammar.

Old Pictures

Found this old (hate to say how old) picture of a 17 yo me on my Arabian stallion, Simuzer. Gorgeous horse, crazy as heck, could jump anything you put in his way, but really nasty-tempered. He tried his best to kill me, LOL, but I remember him with great fondness. I've always loved fast horses and fast cars.

Spring is here, yeah!

Our tabby, a very laid-back, I'm-too-cool-to-pose, cat, the Biff, has taken up his position for the season. Back patio, HIS chair, and we humans must bring food out to his Highness. And not disturb his naps. Or let the dog try to join him on HIS chair. Good luck with that.

Mountains in March

Found this on the camera we took to Martinsville. Love the other-world feel.

Film from Martinsville

My daughter took a short video of the race. Here it is - a tiny taste of Nascar racin'.

Twenty-six years, and counting

My beloved and I were married that long ago in a small wedding in my parents' house. I wore a tan lace dress by a Chicago designer, Becky Becoulis, and Paul wore a cream-colored suit. Family and friends had as much fun partying after the ceremony as we did. Hard to believe we've been hitched for over a quarter of a century! In this day and age, such longevity is a miracle. Our touchstone has always been, no matter how crazy or downright awful things get, that we love each other and always will. It doesn't hurt that my beloved is a very tolerant, understanding, kind man who has grown to know the right thing to do when I get all creatively insane when the books aren't going well. He takes over the house and all the minutiae of our lives, then tells me to shut the office door and ignore the world until the words are right. Smart man.

The red clay isn't coming out of the soaked sneakers from the parking fields of Martinsville. Guess a trip to Target is in order to replace them. Race stuff is cleaned and packed away, waiting for May's race in Richmond. Pray to the rain gods to sleep through it. Can't wait - Richmond has killer curves and lots of good grooves, and I'd like to see the race on its scheduled day.