Mid-January Mild & Glorious Sunrises...

Sunrise from our back deck...

Without much fanfare, mid-January has crept into the picture. And here in northern Illinois, one might get the impression that it’s late February or early March with this weekend’s milder temperatures ranging into the low 40s. A good deal of our snow from a week ago has dwindled, and ever-widening patches of grass out back are appearing by the hour!

And although this is nothing to get too wound up about, we all seem to be comparing and contrasting this year’s winter with that of last year’s polar vortex experience and agree that it’s a much more agreeable sort of winter! Having dry and bare pavement and sidewalks makes things much easier to navigate. In short, we’ll enjoy it for as long as we can.

The last several days have begun with beautiful sunrises, and they are fun to watch as they fully climb up above the horizon way out to the east from where I write. And though I prefer those dreary rainy days to really motivate me and get me into the proper writing frame of mind, it’s hard to beat one of these glorious sunrises.

Here’s to a good week ahead as we move into the next part of winter…

Winter Sunset in DeKalb IL (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Nothing to say…

“Blessed are they, who have nothing to say, and who cannot be persuaded to say it!” (James Russell Lowell)

English: Elmwood, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Home of poet James Russell Lowell etc. Photograph taken by me, September 2005. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

American poet James Russell Lowell (1819-1891) penned these words a long time ago, and they still ring true today.

As I was scrambling for a blog topic the past couple of days, his words kept popping back into my head, and I began to realize that perhaps I really have nothing to say. And until I actually do have something to say, maybe I should stop trying to force the issue.

Yet, I could write about the mess that the world finds itself in, particularly the evil that is ISIS and how our government is attempting to deal with it.

But even though I have very strong concerns about this latest threat to our precious way of life here, I don’t want to come off as just another reactionary, spouting that “we should have done this…we should have done that!”

As always, I leave it to those folks—our leaders—to make sense of it all and stow the politics long enough to protect our country and  all of us in it!

Of course, I could devote hundreds of words to the current sordid state of affairs in the NFL, with its rampant, out-of-control domestic/child abuse, but what really more can anyone say to make much sense of a league gone mad, featuring massive humans—wealthy beyond reason—operating in a world that places them way up on pedestals and adorns them with crowns for being so good at what they do—on the field of play, that is.

I could throw out several paragraphs detailing my continued struggles to get much writing done on my next novel, the one in which I’ve been becalmed and landlocked for such a long time. However, I really don’t like to whine and complain, beating a dead horse over and over again. I’m sure readers don’t deserve having to read any more about it, either.

Jack poses next to the sign at the local gas station to check out the special birthday message!

Amidst all of the sadness, sickness, and horror that swirls about in this world of ours, I’ll keep it to a couple of pleasant and good things. Yesterday, my one grandson, Jack, turned nine. We celebrated with one of his favorite dishes—Grandma’s lasagna, salad, and cake and ice cream. 

Before we ate, he and his younger brother spent an hour or so out in our back yard having a terrific time playing whiffle ball and laughing and running and sweating.

They knew nothing about the tragedies that surround them or the growing evil over in Syria and its neighboring countries. They couldn’t care less about professional football players who don’t know how to behave in a civilized manner. And they most certainly couldn’t give a rat’s patooty about Poppy’s writing issues!

In their own beautiful world, life is still very good. They have a mom and dad who care and provide for them. They have warm beds to sleep in—safely—each night and a good school to get to every morning to learn and grow and try to be good citizens of the world.

As we all sat down to dinner and enjoyed the delicious offerings from my wife, I couldn’t help but feel a real sense of pride in my son sitting across from me and my two grandsons, one on each side of me—my legacy! I do hope the world will turn out OK for them in the years ahead.

So I guess I really didn’t have anything to say after all!

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Those special coffee mugs and the memories they hold…

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Anyone who knows me or has read any of my posts here, understands that one of my most favorite things each morning is that first mug of good hot coffee. My day doesn’t really come alive until I can enjoy that first sip of the stuff—almost too hot to actually drink—with a splash of half-and-half, and then, and only then, the day is permitted to begin and all things are possible.

And over the course of the years, our coffee mug collection at home has grown to the point of being ridiculous, almost to the point of qualifying for some Discovery Channel series, I’m thinking. We’ve almost run out of space in our kitchen cabinets that are reserved for the things. Be that as it may, I have two or three favorites I go to regularly, and, conversely, there are those I never use.

My criteria for my favorites consists of the following: size, shape, design or logo or other witty saying on the mug, and memories it conjures up. For example, one of my “regulars” is from the

Hockey Hall of Fame, a place we visited in Toronto last summer about this time. Another one I enjoy came from the Abraham Lincoln Library and Museum in Springfield. It’s a perfect size and fits my hand ideally each morning (the mug, not the museum!)

A few that I don’t care for are usually those my wife has “collected” from various places she or I have visited. For instance, there’s a squatty, round thing that would barely hold enough coffee to sustain a gnat, but it has some design from Cherokee, North Carolina, that she liked, so it takes up space in the cabinet.

For obvious reasons, we don’t have the same number of mugs at our summer cottage. My two

favorites were the wonderful mug from Ron-Jon Surf Shop in Cocoa Beach, Florida. It’s a perfect size and has the typical Ron-Jon art work with the shark telling everyone: “I Don’t Do Mornings!”

My other “cottage” mug was the perfect mug, in that it was solid, had the name of the restaurant from whence it was “borrowed” years ago, and made me smile every time I thought of the person who did the “borrowing” and the laughs we always shared.

I write about that mug now in the past tense because while I was washing the dishes one morning last week, it slipped from my hand and met its end in the porcelain kitchen sink. I briefly gave some thought to trying to put it back together, but that would have been a fruitless venture, so it found its way into the trash instead.

I don’t think I’ll ever have another exactly like that one. The restaurant is out of business and our dear friend passed away in late March. I really don’t need some coffee mug to help me remember all of the good times with our friend, but it was a constant, silly symbol of friendship through the years that couldn’t be broken—unlike the mug itself.

I'm sure our collection of mugs will continue to grow, and there will be those I'll love, and those that will sit and take up space in the cabinet. Either way, they will be little reminders of the good times we share together traveling and seeing new places….MLA

Re-discovering John Updike & a trip home

(Writing from home in northern Illinois)

Following the wonderful 4th of July weekend that was filled with kids and grandkids and plenty of

4th of July or Fourth of July (Photo credit: Creativity+ Timothy K Hamilton)

fun in the lake and in and around the cottage, I decided it was time to  venture back home for a few days to attend to those persistent "calls of  necessity." Those, of course, include taking the recycling containers to the drop-off place at the nearby landfill, shopping to re-supply the essentials for the cottage, doing the laundry, and mowing, trimming, and edging the yard that is healthier than it's ever been!

Regardless, it was time to come home. I was last home in early June, and today I feel kind of like a stranger in my own house. My routines in the kitchen, which are pretty automatic in the morning making coffee, taking care of clean dishes in the dishwasher, etc., aren't so automatic at the moment. I find myself pausing to remember exactly where things go and the gentle order of operation when I'm here on a regular basis.

So, today I did the various shopping "runs" to Sam's Club and Wal-Mart for those items I will take back to the cottage two days from now. I also put back on my bookshelves those books I finished reading during the past few weeks up at the cottage.

Cover of Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories

One of them, Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories by John Updike, re-affirmed my desire to get back to writing those short stories I keep meaning to finish. It was very good to read those stories I'd first discovered in my American Lit courses at Kent State, back about 1970 or thereabouts, and I saw things this time through that I failed to do then. 

Could it be that I'm older and wiser now? (Well, older anyway!)

I had two very good--uninterrupted--weeks of working on my novel, Sandbar's Secret, but I had to shut things down with company and the festive weekend that was the 4th of July celebration.

And I didn't mind shutting the old MacBook down one bit. Dragging the grandsons around the lake on a tube, dodging the insane "Weekend Warriors" on our lake, was fun, to say the least. The old 90-horse Yamaha outboard ran as smooth as ever, propelling our Tahoe pontoon around and through the waters without a hitch.

Now, with today's "chores" finished, I can settle in and finish catching up on other e-mail and reading posts from my blog friends and offer a comment where appropriate. Tomorrow's plan is to do the yard work early in the morning and take care of any other household duties which I haven't gotten to as yet.

Before I know it, Thursday morning will roll around, and I will be packing the Chevy Equinox once again to return to the cottage on the lake. It's good to know that there's still plenty of summer left for writing and reading, and I am most anxious to get back into my novel WIP, Sandbar's Secret, and find time to read the new biography, Updike, by Adam Begley. We have no company coming this weekend, so that is a good thing!  I love friends and family when they come spend a few days and nights with us, but I also savor those weekends when there are no such visitors!

And so, here's hoping things are well in your world. I send you good wishes from a beautiful day here in northern Illinois, where today's list has been checked off, and I prepare for tomorrow's…MLA

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Back to a summer writing routine…

Settling in for the summer once again…

Sunset at Sister Lakes, Michigan (Photo credit: Fox Valley Voice)

It’s wonderfully peaceful and a bit on the dreary side this morning here on the banks of beautiful Magician Lake in southwest Michigan.

And it’s good to be able to enjoy it all without having to travel anywhere, no company to “entertain,” and no major tasks that need doing. It’s simply time to get writing. To knock the dust off my Scrivener projects, in other words!

I have been reading more than writing so far this summer, and this past weekend the place was “headquarters” for our annual NASCAR “Race Weekend.” And as much as I look forward to it each year and all of the fun we have from beginning to end, I’m relieved that it’s over with.

What now? For the next week, I will be here all by myself and will have no excuses not to attack my writing projects: a couple of short stories (sort of sequels to the other two I published last year—“Hobo Willie” and “Pinewood Farm.” And, of course, there is the next novel that has been hibernating and “cooling off” as it awaits my attention.

In short, there’s plenty of work to be done, and I suppose I’m finally in the proper frame of mind to re-establish my daily writing routine: up early each morning and at the MacBook by 7:00 to pound out the words and then wrap things up by 9:00.

 Of course, those times aren’t chiseled in stone by any means, but the earlier in the day I write, the more productive I seem to be. That way, I have the remainder of the day to take care of anything that needs tending to around here and/or to spend some quality time out on the water on the pontoon.

I plan my weekly visits to the laundromat and the grocery store either for Wednesday or Thursday mornings. On those mornings, I have to re-adjust my writing time—often in the evening—but I’m very flexible once I re-discover the discipline it takes to immerse myself into the writing routine. 

Of course, when it’s a rainy or otherwise crappy “lake day,” employing the writing discipline and tuning out all of the surrounding distractions is not an issue.

Even now as I type this post, rumblings of thunder sound off to the west, and I know that I’ll manage to accomplish much on this first day of getting back to writing. And there’ll also be time to catch up on reading other blog post from my many blogger friends.

And so it is. Time to get the mellow jazz on iTunes Internet Radio for my background inspiration, and get to gettin’!….MLA

"Move-in" Weekend & Season's First Storm…

Magician Lake

Sister Lakes, Michigan

Up at 6 a.m., having my first cup of morning coffee (not out on the porch, however, ‘cause it’s damp and chilly out there), and knocking the cobwebs from my dear, old MacBook. And it’s the first morning that I don’t have anything that needs doing at any certain time today.

Yep. “Move-in weekend” has come and gone, and it couldn’t have been better, either. To say that the weather was outstanding would be understating things immensely! Plenty of sunshine filled each day, beginning with our arrival here early Friday right on through Memorial Day on Monday.

There was not the slightest hint of a storm until late Monday evening. By that time, everything was in its place, Carolyn’s annual planting complete, and the pontoon all covered and moored in its usual spot down the slope below our 101-year-old cottage.

When the season’s first storm did roll in late Monday night, it had its normal share of wind as well as a drenching rain. It was no big thing to roll down the porch blinds that keeps things somewhat dry, and I remembered the visqueen, that polyethylene sheeting, that we always use to cover the futon when a storm is near.

So when I crawled into bed, tired, achy, and worn out from all of the weekend’s tasks and physical challenges, I felt pretty good about having everything buttoned up and secure against the thunderstorm that was now hitting us with pretty good force. Let it rain!

I’m not sure exactly when it was—around 3 a.m., perhaps—that I remembered that I had done nothing to secure our pier furniture, consisting of a few plastic chairs, a couple of footstools, and a small table. I’d forgotten all about them as they sat right where I’d placed them the day before after a much-needed bath in the lake.

Whenever there’s wind of any sort, the chairs and table are not going to win out. Instead, they’ll be blown off the pier and end up along the shore, which—thankfully—is close and in very shallow water. As I lay there remembering my failure to bungee cord the pier furniture, I knew I’d be getting in the water for an early morning “search and rescue” mission in a few hours. With that it mind, I rolled over and went back to sleep and listened to the rain on the roof.

A few hours later, as the dawn of a new day arrived and the storm from the night gone, I came down and got the morning coffee going and put on my water shoes. In the early light of the morning, I could see that a couple of chairs that had been stacked together had remained in place, as well as the two low footstools, but the three other chairs and the little round table were gone.

And so I went down to see what I could see. Sure enough, the three chairs were resting against the shoreline not far from where I was standing on our pier, and I could see that the little table had traveled farther, to the end of the pier two cottages down. No problem at all. I stepped off into the shallow water and retrieved our chairs and table and returned them to the pier and tied them down with a cord I’d brought along.

A few minutes later, I was back in the cottage and having a wonderful cup of hot coffee. The day ahead promised to be a good one for getting some reading done and to get things going for my writing routine for the summer. This post is the first effort along those lines.

There are a few little tweaks and adjustments needed to finish the move-in process, and I’ll be attending to them today. In the meantime, another cup of coffee is in order….MLA

That "New Car" Smell…

Amongst all of our other busy tasks last week, we bought a new car. It had been something that

1925 Model T Ford (Photo credit: Photomatt28)

we’d spoken about, tentatively planned for, and put off doing until the last possible moment, hoping to get my 2001 Ford Ranger through just one more spring and summer.

But some strange and metallic noises from my trusty Ranger’s rear end began a couple of weeks ago, speeding up our decision-making concerning the purchase of a new vehicle. The noises really were no surprise because the possibility of that happening sooner or later was brought to my attention by my friendly oil change person the last couple of times in.

Something called a shackle spring was pretty much rusted through and would need replaced. I am not a mechanically inclined person who can do anything too involved with a truck or car, so it would cost around $300 to have the thing fixed.

But with over 200,000 miles on the truck, we didn’t really want to invest any more money into it, and, instead, we knew it was time to finally make that much-delayed trip to the auto dealer and jump back into the wonderful world of car payments! So that’s exactly what we did last Monday.

We returned to the friendly dealership in a nearby town where we’d purchased Carolyn’s car a couple of years ago. They were pleasant and wonderful to deal with then, and they were as nice and accommodating this time as well. I drove a couple of models, and then we found the one we liked and agreed to purchase it. Two days later, we returned and picked up our brand new 2014 Crystal Red Chevy Equinox LT.

I’ve spent the better part of the last several days trying to figure out all of the “hands free’ technology and what everything is supposed to do and how it’s supposed to be done! I’m certain that what I’m considering tricky and cutting-edge technology has probably been around for at least a year, and pretty much routine for anyone under 50.

Since I’m way past 50, I’m still just a little foggy when it comes to understanding things such as Bluetooth, Pandora, Stitcher, etc. That’s why I abandoned Twitter (twice!) because I couldn’t figure out what a hashtag was supposed to do (still can’t!) and, thus, pay no attention to anything Twitter.

All of that being said, I am enjoying the rather simple way to make a call without having to be holding and clicking things on my iPhone. I can just give the command (if I remember to wait until after the tone, which I never do!) of whom to call and it all comes through the sound system loud and clear.

Besides all of that tech stuff, the car rides beautifully, and the gas mileage is a vast improvement over the dearly departed truck! The seats are comfy, and there’s plenty of room to haul what we need to haul. I’ll really get to put this to the test a week from this Friday when we load it up with cottage “stuff” to move in that weekend.

I’ll miss my old Ranger, but I’m thrilled to have something brand new that will get me hither and yon in style and comfort. Now, if I can just figure out how all of that built-in technology is supposed to work and what it’s supposed to do. Suggestions, anyone?…MLA

Chevrolet Equinox (Photo credit: Seluryar)