Life

Thu - June 30, 2005

Busy Day

Actually feel like I've accomplished something for a change.

Finished cutting the initial pieces for five Threads Tour Quilts and have pinned enough for two quilts, which I'll start sewing tomorrow. Took my daughter and the Part Time Kid to lunch and to the mall. Read about 1/3 of Cold Granite , did some catalog shopping , made story notes for the book with no name, and tried a new recipe for supper.

All in all, a pretty decent day.

This will be the last double-posted blog entry. Sorry, folks, but it's just easier (and less problematic) to have everything in one place.

Please continue to visit tamboblog at its new home at http://www.tamarasilerjones.com/blog/index.html .

Posted at 11:37 PM |

Wed - June 29, 2005

It's Evil! Eeeeeevil, I say!

Damn you Stuart , and damn you PBW for mailing me the flipping book when you both know I'm up to my eyeballs with sewing and my own writing and everything else.

I did manage to sew the block of the month blocks today (after The Eeeeevil Book arrived). And go to a movie. But it wants me to read it, not cut two thousand one inch triangles or let Dubric learn why the dogs are dying...

Damn evil book.

Posted at 11:50 PM |

My Buddy Steve

No, we've never met, but I've been a Stephen King fan since I was 12 or 13 and read my aunt's paperback copy of Carrie while babysitting my cousin. The Stand is my absolute favorite book of all time (original version, like with Star Wars, I'm a purist) even before my own work, and I surely own more of his books than any other author, living or dead.

A couple of years ago (four actually, it seems) he addressed the students of U of Maine at Orono. I'd read a transcript of the address, and it brought tears to my eyes. Regardless of his preferred literary subject matter, his religion, or his politics, Mr. King is a wise and thoughtful man.

Last month, he addressed the U of Maine students again, this time for commencement. You can read it, or listen to it , or, as I did, both at the same time.

Thanks, Steve.

Posted at 09:08 AM |

Tue - June 28, 2005

A man's home is his castle... until a business wants it.

Judge Souter may have to eat his own words .

Thanks to Holly for the link.

Posted at 03:58 PM |

Sun - June 26, 2005

Forty One

Survived yet another birthday. Got cash from my mother and a book from Bill - House of Leaves , which I'd checked out from the library THREE TIMES but never could scrape up time to finish. It's not a sit down and get sucked in kind of book. It's cross referenced with footnotes and appendices and exhibits and things written in code. There are various typefaces, depending on which character is doing what, and the type might be normal, or sideways or backwards on in boxes or just two words at the bottom of the page. The word house is always in blue. Strange book, and not the kind of thing you can just zip through.

I'm enjoying it - have been for months, ha ha - but books like this leave me feeling that I'm not all that bright. But is it style over substance? Is it too clever, and odd, for its own good? Or is it me who isn't clever enough, or odd enough? Why do I get yanked into brutal works (like anything written by Thomas Harris) but more cerebral things leave me feeling like an orphan at the door even though I insist on reading them? What about my own work? Is it literary, as a trusted friend insists much to my aggravation, or is it garbage as some reviewers have proclaimed? Why do I seek out the creepily artistic and renown to read for pleasure (currently on my night stand House of Leaves joins a Lovecraft short story collection, With Red Hands, and Rosemary's Baby), purposely putting my self worth at a disadvantage, yet write approachable but violent blood spattery tales that are a long way from literature? I know these thoughts aren't exactly good for me - depressive spiral, anyone? - yet I have to know how this book ends. There have been several places already that would have made good endings, yet the book continues. For more than 100 more pages from where I am, not including end matter.

Odd book, odd reader. And I think too much.

Even though it was my birthday, I wrote a little last night. Not much, was feeling more social than I usually do, but some. The highlight of the evening was a dead dog. I should set up a tally system of sorts on the right hand column. Corpses. Ghosts. Dead Dogs. So far, 2, 0, 1.

See how odd Tambo Math is? No Ghosts. Yet. Dubric would pull out his hair if he had any to pull.

I have not yet cut, or sewn, my blocks of the month! Horrible, I say! Lazy Tam! Bad! Needs a spanking! They're due at the quilt shops next weekend. I'd better get on it. Plus I have several Threads Tour Quilts to make, one for Stuart Mc Bride for being a sweetheart, and others for various people and conventions.

And write. And read. And continue on with the wife/mommy gig. And go to the gym. And so forth and so on...

So I'd better get to it.

Posted at 10:01 AM |

Operation Soccer Ball

And to think ObiWan said he was more machine than man