It’s summer and I’m reading

So, for my big 40th birthday I went to the Detroit Festival For the Arts, where I read an excerpt from a story that received honorable mention in the 2008 Metro Detroit Writers member contest. While it was a fabulous event, the weather was down right oppressive. I would have stayed to shop but it was so hot that the sweat was pouring out of me while I was sitting. I opted instead to leave after the reading and get a little cake. I really wanted a frosted chocolate chip cookie. That’s my favorite treat. I got a cake instead and went home to my central air and did nothing for the rest of the day. Well, I did do homework, but that was all.

I attended a reading last night in Plymouth, the Gathering of Writers, a monthly reading. The featured reader was a woman named Amy, a breast cancer survivor. I loved her poems about her breast cancer. They really resonated. My friend Missy and I read poems as well. I read my ekphrastic poem that I did at school during the November 2006 semester residency, the residency I came home from to find the dreaded lump in my right breast. The poem is not inspired by my breast cancer, but by a photograph of David Levinthol from his Wild West series. I call the poem “Deconstructing the Wild, Wild West.” I also read the above poem inspired by the whole dance recital ritual. It was great to get out and be inspired by other writers, especially my friend who is bravely moving in the direction of poetry after being primarily a fiction writer. I love discussing writing and that’s what we did over a beer and dinner. What better way to spend an evening.

This weekend I’ll head off to a band reunion. Sounds like the makings of a movie to me. All kidding aside, I’m looking forward to the event. Can’t wait to see some of my old mates. Yes, I played the flute and, yes, I’ve heard the whole band camp thing too many times to count, so be done with it.

That’s about all for now.

Recovering and a work in progress

I just returned from Louisville, Kentucky, Sunday and it has taken me until today to recover from my trip. It’s not so much the trip that I’m recovering from, but the fact that I’ve been dropped back into my real life. The Louisville trips are always dream-like. I get to sleep in a comfortable bed, which is made for me every single day. I get to write, discuss writing and listen to people discuss writing all day. I get to have my meals served to me. So, coming home to a 10-foot hight mound of laundry, dirty floors and a bed that hasn’t seen a set of clean sheets in a month can be a little disheartening, especially when I’ve got lots of work ahead of me completing my final semester of my Master of Fine Art in writing degree.

I can’t believe I’m in my final semester. My goal is to finish my novel. I’ll keep the progress posted. Currently, there are 90 good pages that I worked hard to clean up last semester when I worked with Crystal Wilkinson. My new mentor is Rachel Harper. I’m eager to work with her. She’s got a reputation for helping students with novel manuscripts, so this should be a great semester. I’ve made it my goal to finally finish this manuscript, and I feel motivated and positive that I will meet that goal.

This week has been tough as far as time goes, but I’m fighting tooth and nail to claim my sacred space. I did take a moment to sit and think how poetic it was to see my daughter on the stage for dress rehearsal for her dance recital, which is tomorrow. It’s such a right-of-passage, the whole ritual of dance and recital. I never really experienced it from an actual dance perspective. I was a figure skater. I guess that’s close enough. Plenty of my friends took dance. I envied them. The following are my rough poetic thoughts about the dance ritual:

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

It’s a right-of-passage

you think,

the hollow drum beat

sounds as if it’s coming from

a tunnel, sounds almost tribal.

Waves of taffeta billow in a red

light. Pink sequins flickers a code

you might have known once.

You think about how you

might have been a purple

fairy floating in the stage lights

to a soft rendition of “Somewhere

Over the Rainbow.”

You think of how warm the lights

are now, how happy you feel about

being able to see your daughter

laughing with girls her age, keeping

rhythm with the passage of time. In a second

the dance is over and she waves

to her friends, the moment has already

become a page in a picture book.

Writing Sucess!!!

It has been a good month for me. A year ago at this time I was in a chemotherapy fog. Well into my treatment, I was battling with low blood counts that made me anemic. It made for a rather depressing spring. I couldn’t do much but move from couch to bed and bed to couch. My wonderful mother sat working on her cookbook while I whined and moaned about not feeling good.

This year is far different than last. I feel good. I’ve done an image makeover all on my own, so I’m looking good as well as feeling good. It’s as if all my life I’ve been asleep and cancer has awakened me. I know it’s cliche, but it’s true. I really do not feel like the same person at all.

The positivity is spilling over into my creative writing success. Three of my poems are to be published in an anthology called More Sweet Lemons. I am honored to be a part of this anthology that celebrates Sicilian culture and writing. I’ve posted before that I write as an American but as an Italian/Sicilian as well.  I’m passionate about studying Italian-American literature, so being a part of this project is special. I should say that the anthology is being published in Canada, so there will be a mix of Italian-American and Italian-Canadian writers featured in the book.

Also, my extended critical essay, which I completed as part of my MFA in writing, is having a run of success. It earned a second place in the academic writing category in the 2008 Kentuckiana Metroversity Writing Competition. Apart from that, I was invited to the University of Lethbridge to present the essay at a conference on ethnicity. I almost went without knowing that my essay had earned an award. The notification went into my spam folder. I would not have noticed it had one of my instructors not mentioned the award.

Things are happening. Woot, woot!!

Spring is finally here

I’m working on a workshop piece while I watch outside my front screen door. My daughter has gotten her bicycle out. She slides onto the seat pulling herself up from the back of the seat. She’s figured out how to get onto the bike that is too big for her. She still has training wheels. Balance is a tricky thing for her. She’s a little person with some physical limitations, but watching her on that bike I see how she doesn’t let it stop her.

It’s sunny here, warmer than it has been. I raked the front lawn, and it felt good to be outside. I know it feels good for my daughter. She went out at 10 a.m. this morning and has not come in all day. It’s nearing 5 p.m. I remember days like that when I wouldn’t come in the entire day.

Maggie, my golden retriever, was happy to be outside as well. She’s napping at my feet now likely dreaming of her time outside. My daughter has figured out how to get her bike to move and she passes back and forth on the sidewalk. I should be working on a story, but I can’t figure out what to do with it. It needs something. I’m a little burned out from writing for school and for work. I’m tired and just want to sit in the sun. My cat is meowing. She’s brought me a stuffed Pokemon character–her kill for the day. She must have found it in the basement somewhere. It’s about the size of a mouse, so I can see her confusion. She seems happy, too, that it’s warm and sunny, though she doesn’t go outside. She likes sitting on her tower and looking out the front screen door. Yes, this is the way spring should be. It has been a while since I’ve seen the sun like this.

What Hours and Hours of ‘What Not to Wear’ Will Do and Other Stuff

Cristina Fashionista’s new shoes.

Last Friday, I was wearing the single pair of clod-hopper shoes that I’ve worn since their purchase probably a year and a half to two yeares ago. I had a pair of loose cords, some nondescript T-shirt that I’ve probably worn every day this winter. As I worked throughout the weekend on my novel with the television on for background noise (yes, I do do that once in a while). I kept the channel on TLC and “What Not to Wear” was running for much of that time. What happened was nothing short of a miracle. It was as if Clinton and Stacy had been instructing me personally.

It dawned on me that I needed to freshen up my look. Amp Cristina up a little. Well, I went crazy and amped up a lot. I took some of our tax return and decided it was time to rebuild my wardrobe, putting some thought into style. The result has been much more therapeutic than I ever thought it could be. I’ve always hated shopping, probably because I never find anything I like in my size. That doesn’t mean I’ll be buying clothes and accessories until I’m in the poor house. It just means that I am putting much more thought into what I buy.

I think what made my shopping excursion so great last weekend is that I got so much stuff on sale and it all fit great. I thought about what was left in my closet after purging it and found great staples that will allow me to interchange things a bit with the few pieces I kept.

I set aside my former thinking that I couldn’t handle walking in heels or wearing stiff professional clothes and let myself loose. I found that a lot of these pieces are quite comfortable, and the heels that I did purchase weren’t so high that I would break my neck.

For about $350 I walked away with the following:

2 pairs of shoes, 6 blouses, one pair of slacks, one really neat looking jacket, a business suit, a purse, trouser sox, two pairs of tights, and a dress.

Along with changing my way of thinking about fashion (I really had not much of a thought about it before last Friday), I have changed my way of thinking about eating thanks to Paul McKenna. That, too, came from leaving TLC on for background noise. I’m living my Paul McKenna’s four golden rules. It turns out to be a fabulous way to think about not only eating but living. I know it sounds so much like a lot of Oprah bull-poop, but I’m tired of being tired and being swallowed up by the things happening around me. I guess it’s my way of taking control of my life. I keep telling people it’s my way of releasing the inner-Diva I’ve kept caged up for so long.

The key, and I should bottle this and patent it, is to live life deliberately. It’s not as easy as it sounds, but it is possible. Basically, it’s allowing me to push back at the life that keeps pushing in at me.

The old Cristina would sleep until the last possible moment. Rush around getting everybody ready, throw on clothes and be off. The new Cristina has begun setting her clothes out the night before and taking time to put make up on. The new Cristina can now picture what separates will go together well to make a great outfit. The new Cristina is taking the two minutes to organize things.

If it sounds surfacy and materialistic, let it. I still know what’s important in my life. I just think that this little tweaking I’ve done is well-deserved self-pampering. I don’t know what it’s the result of. It seems like such a sudden transition really. It could be the brush with death. It could be that and more. I don’t know. I’ve just thrown this out into the universe and already the universe has thrown back. Once I decided to amp up my wardrobe, thus amp Cristina up a little, my friend was releasing a brand new pair of lovely boots in just my size that made a perfect addition to my new threads, and my mother-in-law found me a great Dolce and Gabbana bag in Mexico. I know it’s not a real D and G bag, but it looks great and I love it!

I’m mostly just rambling, but I’m having fun with all of it.

I’m home today. My kids were sick. Kiki threw up this morning. Josh was coughing. It seems they feel much better. They’ve spent the morning making animated movies of Lego Star Wars characters. I’ve been trying to get motivated to work on homework, but I’ m ready for the semester to end. I’m ready to go to Louisville. I’m ready to be working in the extended semester so the work load won’t seem so overwhelming.

The kids and I also are using our travel time in the mornings and afternoons to learn Italian. That was initiated by my little sunshine boy, Joshua. He loves foreign languages and I really want to learn Italian.

I’m installing a new iTunes, so I’d better make my exit now.

Ciao,

Cristina

Reading and creative kids

Next Tuesday, March 18, I will be featured reader at Sweetwater’s Cafe in Ann Arbor. I’m a bit nervous about this but excited all the same. It will be my first feature, not that I have a book to go with it, but maybe I’ll find a way to have something to hand out at least.

While that’s all very exciting the most exciting news is that my son, Joshua, has received state recognition for his art. He’s ten years old, and his art teacher sent a piece to the Michigan Art Education Association Regional Exhibition. His piece was then judged and chosen to be in the State Elementary Top 15 Exhibition. I’m proud of him no matter what he does, but I love that he loves art and that he and my mom have that wonderful bond that connects them. For my mother, this is extra special. She was recognized like this in high school. She’s been a huge influence on him from the beginning.

Celebrating Ritz-style

Seared sesame encrusted tuna with shitake mushrooms and wine: This lovely work of art is my dear partner Jay’s creation. It tasted as good as it looks.

There is reason to celebrate as I sit here in my dear partner’s recliner looking out at my snow-covered deck. My Extended Critical Essay has been accepted by the MFA office at Spalding University!! That means the whole process is done. I don’t have to think about it any longer. Now, it’s time to focus on the novel, which I’m avoiding for no other reason than I am tired of writing on a deadline for the time being. I suppose I just need a little break. Instead, I’ve worked on some poems to send out to a couple magazines and contests. I did get a rejection Friday via e-mail. I guess it means I can’t get too joyful about my paper. Although, I’ve chosen to listen to one of my favorite oncology nurses Kathleen and consider getting that 20-plus page paper finished and accepted a huge accomplishment considering the past year I’ve had. I guess I’ve given cancer one big pow right in the kisser. How’s that for scholar-speak?

Yeah, well this scholar has kids that like the word “yummy” and a dear partner who loves quoting cartoons. So, I guess it keeps it all real.

 Speaking of my wonderful partner. He helped me celebrate this whole accomplishment up right–Ritz-style. Yes, that is a Ritz-style meal I’ve photographed, but I didn’t pay a Ritz-style price for it. I just happen to have my own Ritz-Carleton chef-in-training. His official title is cook three, but he’s in culinary school and he’s extremely talented when it comes to cooking. Something I am not. My family never fails to remind me of the time I burnt a pizza and all I had to do was put it in the oven for 15 minutes. I keep telling them that my mom told me to put it in the oven but she never said to take it out. Well, it was a most delcious meal of seared sesame encrusted tuna with sauteed shitake mushrooms over rice that Jay created. He also chose a perfect wine to accompany this fine meal.

I’ve been calling my dear partner Jay my sunshine out the butt guy since we saw the movie Juno Friday night. I have to give Jay credit. He wanted to take me to see Will Farrell’s new movie, which I’m sure I would have loved, but I really, really, very much wanted to see Juno. In the movie, there is a scene where Juno’s dad tells her that when you find someone who thinks the sun shines out your butt you’ll want to stick with him or her. It was something like that. The whole point was that he was telling her that a relationship is about finding someone who takes you for what you are. That would be my Jay. I’ve always said that meeting him was like coming home–home being the place where I can truly be myself. I hope Jay feels the same. He’s my sunshine out the butt guy and he can cook Ritz-style to boot.

It’s time to move on to my novel. If you’ve read this far. Thank you for indulging my rambling, celebrating mind.

Working with Rock Lobster and Screaming Kids

Right now I’m sitting in my sacred space, looking at the little red maple that stands bare-limbed outside the window in my little corner of the house. The street is quiet. The sun is out and some of the snow has melted. It’s finally sort of peaceful in my house. 

That’s a far cry from how things went yesterday. I tried to work on things while my daughter screamed at my son and my husband walked around saying Rock Lobster over and over again. I swear I’m going to ban him from watching Family Guy anymore. He heard Rock Lobster on there and once he hears something like that he never stops with it. He thinks its funny to say and it is funny to hear him say it over and over again but enough already!

The fun here never stops. I really didn’t want to go anywhere this weekend, but my daughter was given an invitation to a birthday party at a bowling alley that is about 30 minutes from my home. We had to stop to get dance accessories before our trip to the bowling alley because the dance shop would be closed by the time we returned. While we were 30 minutes from my house, my neighbor called to let me know that water was spewing from my house into my backyard at an alarming rate. Thankfully, the bowling party was ending when I received the call. We returned home to find the water was in fact spewing at an alarming rate. I handled it like I handle all crises. I freaked out and called my husband at work. I couldn’t find the valve to shut off that part of the water all the while my daughter kept asking to wear her new dance clothes. Our friends graciously came over to help and we finally got it shut off. Amazingly, I even got some homework done.

Someday, I will live in a cave with no running water, no electricity, no phones, no Internet, no dance lesson, no bowling parties and I will find myself blissfully laughing. Maybe, I should be careful for what I wish for.

My daughter fell asleep in her dance clothes, jazz shoes and all.

My Inspiration

Often when talking creativity I mention my mom as an inspiration. I tell people she’s been creating things my whole life. I always get the the following: “You must get your talent from your mom.” I’d be rich if I was paid for the number of times I’ve heard that. Most of the time I just say I suppose. The truth is that I should be saying I get my inspiration from her. As far as talent, I can only say I’m humbled by her gift. See the above drawings done by my mother to understand what I mean.

Newest Pieces

These are two newer creations. I was trying the right angle weave. I’ve never used that stitch before. These pieces have been done for a while. It’s just taken me a long time to post them