Turn down an empty glass

And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!

from the Rubaiyat

Omar Khayyam is one of my favorite writers. I've kept a copy of The Rubaiyat by me for over thirty years. This poem was written about a 1000 years ago and yet it speaks to me. The language, the reflection. It's a shifting mirror that I never tire of looking at.

I became a fan of many classics as a teenager. I was definetly an odd bird. At the age of sixteen, I was ROFLOL over the comedies of Shakespeare. It's hard to pick a favorite comedy, but I think it's As You Like It. Mark Twain and O. Henry's short stories were piled up by my bed. I liked tragedies too. I memorized the first scene of Antigone and read the play over and over. I wanted to be like Antigone, to not listen anyone and follow my love and passion. Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand was another favorite. Whoa, Roxane and Cyrano, I'm still crying about that. Jack London's short stories haunt me. Jack had a power in his stories that shook me to me core and made question exactly what is humanity anyway.

I love Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. I read it so many times my copy fell apart. I read the complete works of Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Carl Sandberg. These four voices are inside my head and they speak to me in varied ways all the time.

This is just the tip of iceberg of all the stories that have moved me as a teenager.

Still the anchor is Khayyam, and during my most reflective moments, I turn down an empty glass for him.

Resurrection

So today is Easter for Christians. I'm not much of a holiday sort, dyed in the wool protestant here. I protest holidays. Though some weird creature-- a pink rabbit -- did visit my closet and leave an unhealthy amount of chocolate. My daughter bit the head off her candy bunny and said she didn't want anything to do with a bunny who brought baskets of toys for little kids and lame white chocolate bunnies for teenagers. My son added that chocolate wrapped around caramel wasn't his favorite. Then I had to spend half an hour picking the chocolate out of the carpet. My youngest son wrote "Happy Easter Meal" on his Easter eggs. At dinner, he said at his favorite Indian restaurant he had a glass made out real glass, but at home he only gets plastic. He still toasted everything from the meal we ate to the fine wine were drinking at least 10 times. (We are teetotatlers. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was apple juice.) After the tasty ham, shrimp bites and tiny pickles, we all took a nap -- my favorite part of the celebration.

On writing. I'm fearful my blog is boring. I mean, I'm so provincial. I've never been cool, hip or cutting edge. I really don't see that starting now. So I think I will continue to waddle along with the blog as it stands, but (because I can read) I am now going to start adding cool links to stuff that is cool, hip and cutting edge.

First, Libba Bray. The first time I met her I laughed so hard I almost had to sit down. She activated my Wonder Twin powers, so check out someone who really understands blogging, Libba Bray. Let me take a minute and plug her book. An editor - not her editor - (K. L.) mentioned a while back Great and Terrible Beauty was delicious, something to curl up with on a dark and stormy night. I concur. Now move on to Cynthia Leitich Smith, another blogger extrodinaire. If you wish to laugh until breathing is no longer a skill that you possess, I recommend Wendy McClure and her Weight Watcher Cards.

Breathe

It's so hard to just remember to breathe. Hey, I'm stuffing the writing in between carpool, choir concerts, homework help, housecleaning, laundry, yoga, volunteering, yard work, sweeping the roof. Remember, breathe.

I love the earliest part of writing. For me it's when I see something that moves me -- like the old man charging through town with the walking stick hooked behind his arms, or neighbor kids having a tea party under the mailboxes, or four girls with rainbow colored hair singing four part harmony at Dairy Queen. The world is full of stories. Remember, breathe.

Children writer's issues

Is the tooth fairy real? Do leprechauns exist? What about the Easter bunny?

These are very stressful questions for the children's writer because we want to believe. Our imaginations are full of 'real' pretending. We know the truth. They are probably not real, but we can't imagine life without make believe.

Peacemaker

I think one of the big mom skills is peacemaker.

I hear a crash in the living room. As an experienced mom, I can tell the "rough-housing and someone got hurt" crash instantly from the "I tripped over that Goodwill box" crash. I can also tell from the intensity of the crash if it will be necessary to intervene, time to dig in my box of hats (cook, housecleaner, laundress, plumber, teacher, chauffeur, nurse, confidant, police, diplomat, trade negotiator, humanitarian, peacemaker, etc.) and swoop into the living room to bring peace.

"Mom, he hit me."
"She kicked me."
"He pushed first."
"I needed the computer."
"I was on first."

This of course is a simple "flaming computer time war." Not a problem for families with one child, but our house has a 2 to 1, kid to computer ratio.

So the peacemaker is at work.

Have jobs been performed and homework completed?

This tactic of making people personally accountable for what they need to do right now solves many skirmishes and often results in the dishes being washed or the nasty stuff on the bathroom floor being scraped up.

If personal accountability questions are answerable, we move to advanced peace talks.

How long has the computer been used? What is the computer going to be used for?
Resources are scarce in this world and need to be used wisely. Conservation is the key tool of the peacemaker. Checking homestarrunner.com ranks over joining an online fight fest. Iming for a school project shoots over iming about who's hot in the lunch room.

If this tactic is not effective, a hardy peacemaker must move to the rights versus priviledges argument. Rights include food, shelter and piano lessons. Priviledges include computer games, mall trips and, yes, computer time.

"But no, Mom!"

If active negotiations break down. Kids stamp out of the room and doors slam all over the house.
The peacemaker makes a cup of hot calming tea and waits for re-negotiation, usually takes about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea and drink it.

Just remember -- blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the sons of God.