Revisiting My Book

It has been 8 years since I wrote The Five Notebooks.   I was recently asked to submit a "horror selfie" to a website put up by the Horror Writers Association (HWA) to feature photos of a pet in costume, or "reading" horror, or with a sign supporting a local animal shelter. I couldn't come up with anything - there is no way I could get costumes on Willow and Beauregard and I have grown tired of those "face in hole" sites. So, I've submitted the following (below)  in hopes that they will publish it. I think it's pretty frightening....

                            

I had to fill out a form that included links to my social media websites as well as an author website. Since I don't have an active author website, I though I'd paste these two photos from 2008, when my novel first saw publication. It is still in print, available on amazon.com in both trade paperback and Kindle formats, and I'd be delighted to use this opportunity to give it some publicity.

From Outskits Press

from amazon.com

Do I have another book in me? I haven't attempted to write for publication since The Five Notebooks came out. Perhaps renewed interest in this first effort will give me the impetus I need to awaken my muse and write again.

Paul Dale Anderson, How DO you do it?

I just read Paul Dale Anderson's blogpost for today on Wordpress: (link below) and felt inspired to leave a comment. Here's the link to his post: How I Do It

and here is a corrected version of my lengthy response, which I didn't know how to edit, since I'm not a power Wordpress user. So, to get it right, here it is on my own blog, but please read his first!

Elizabeth Flygare says:

October 14, 2015 at 12:58 am

Lizza's musings: I didn't know what a "pantser" was! I had to look it up.  (https://thewritepractice.com/plotters-pantsers/) I like to think I'm a plotter, but there is something pansteresque about my process. I think I wrote about five different endings for my novel, and submitted it with a plot twist that came right out of that weird space we all inhabit when we're exhausted and suffering from severe "Magic Number Seven Plus or Minus Two.” With regard to your post, I am still mulling over our conversation today over pizza, in which we compared our thoughts on how we are drawn to a book - from mild interest to a compulsion to read. I agree that marketing is an energy drain. Anything that takes a writer away from writing had better be worth it. So how to self-promote, in today's publishing world where midlist authors have to cultivate the art of essentially saying, "READ MY BOOK!?" I think a recommendation or blurb from a major author is a plus. I will read a book that is praised by Curtis Sittenfeld or J. Courtney Sullivan or Chris Bohjalian or Diana Gabaldon---who else? Wally Lamb. Liane Moriarty or Laura Moriarty (who, in fact, are not related to each other). Diane Chamberlain, Meg Wolitzer, Donna Tartt (when is she ever going to write another book?) -- and, yes, Jodi Picoult.

So now that my response to your post has turned into a personal digression and a list of my favorite authors, here is a plug for you, Paul Dale Anderson.  Take a good, long look at who I read. Anyone who reads my response, consider my list... And YET--- I firmly believe that those with my reading preferences would also not only enjoy but become addicted to the Winds series --- and I daresay that even though they are by no means chick lit, they are definitely literary fiction within the realms of genre-bending. They are marvelous. I asked you yesterday, in that phone call about a review for Amazon, "HOW am I supposed to review your books?" And this segued into my question, "Paul Dale Anderson, how do you do it?" How indeed do you do it? I see your workflow above; I am more than honored to be one of your deviations. (smile) But you simply have an extra chip, rather like the individual who can replicate music by ear with no sheet music. You write by ear. By soul. And yes - by discipline. But you have a great gift. Yup, I'm your girlfriend, but I'm also a fierce critic and I am extremely fussy about what I will read. You get it right - the tone, the cadence, the storytelling. And sadly, I'm not the person to promote you. I want to hear you interviewed on "All Things Considered." I want to read an article about you in a scholarly book selection periodical. You've already nailed it with a great review of Light from Kirkus. I want a blurb from Stephen King to appear on the jacket of your next book. I want every indie bookseller in the country (how many are left?) to hand-sell your book, and every librarian to talk it up.

So - anyone from the Rockford area reading this, do show up at the Nordlof Center on October 28 for the event you listed: a talk followed by a showing of the movie Psycho. I promise you that this panster will scare the pants off you, and leave you wanting more!

Learning how to be dead so I can be alive

Almost six years ago, I was forced into retirement from a job that I despised. I should have seen it coming, and I should have been elated; I walked away with a great payout: a signing bonus after I'd agreed on the dotted line not to seek employment there again  The four of us who were still left standing when the rumblings of war had appeared in August of 2009 lucked out; in November the union and the board did some outrageous jerryrigging of the seniority language; we were told that by classification, the employees with the highest evaluation scores would be kept on, and those eligible were offered an early retirement package. Having had two successive bosses who marked me down on several points that should never have been on an evaluation, I heard the bell toll for me. To further explain, there was nothing on the form that allowed setting of goals and objectives, discussion of projects completed, and overall quality of work; the ratings were based on personality and ability to adapt to the strange new corporate atmosphere that had gradually spread throughout our organization since the Reagan and Bush years. My "creative" personality fell outside the required curve; others before me felt the plague early and bailed out it they could; this group consisted of people who were more like me. They believed that the mission of a public library was to serve everyone; the New Order's line was, "There are some groups that we just have to leave behind."

I won't go into the details. By now you know it was the library - it was the public library of our city. Currently the building is slated to be demolished because it was discovered that toxic materials from an old factory are leaking into the foundation. Maybe after the building is gone, I can let go. Because since the day I left, I have been plagued several times a week with dreams about continuing to show up for work every day and even perform my job, without pay, knowing I was retired but seemingly accepted as a volunteer. In essence--in those dreams, even though I realize I am retired, I am like a ghost who doesn't know she's dead.

I had the dream again last night, only this time it was different. I met a real ghost in that setting: a former boss who had died from AIDS in 1991. He gently took me aside, in my dream, and told me, "You cannot come here any more. You cannot come into the staff areas. Do you understand?" And then he gave me a train ticket to go to some unknown place, accompanied by his mother,(?) to learn how to accept retirement --- to learn how to be dead.

Postscript: I wrote this a month ago. I haven't had the dream since.

Blasts from the past: Culled from 2008 saved e-mails discovered tonight

1. From an e-mail to my sister Nancy:

Yes, the fear that the external world does not exist except in the imagination is a terrifying thought - akin to what hell would be. Jean-Paul Sartre, who was an existentialist, probably felt the other way - you remember No Exit - I read it in French (Huis Clos) His motto was: "Hell is other people."

They way my therapist and I got on the subject is that she was trying to get my spin on a new-age book called The Four Agreements. The author argues that you should never take anything personally, because it's all about the other person. I simply don't buy that. Some things I do and will and always shall take personally, because humans are a social species, and if we had been meant to exist alone, we would have given birth by parthenogenesis and lived in little holes in the ground, like moles. Toxic people can and do make others feel like shit. Period. That is why I avoid them if I can/ I haven't given them that power; it is not my doing. Vileness in another person is something I can't even take on; and yes, others victimize us and there are times when there isn't a thing we can do.

I remember well that crap in college about how "it's all within yourself" - all the pompous asses who took Philosophy 101 and liked to pontificate and patronize about how only WE can control our destiny.We don't have that kind of power: read the twelve steps of AA. I am not God.

I believe in free will. I don't believe in fate or/predestination, but yes-- I do believe in karma. I think that how we act toward others in the world has impact on everything. Ultimately what goes around, comes around. BUT--- on the other hand, I do NOT believe that when someone gets cancer, etc, that it is their punishment for something they did or didn't do. I could talk around this for hours.  That is such sanctimonious shit that I see red when I encounter it. I hate that kind of cruel thinking, - to say that someone brought unfair tragedy on themselves. In general, I get nauseated when people spew a lot of new age stuff at me - especially people who have had little to no contact with the real world. The true liberal is the person who encounters unwashed and underprivileged people every single day and can still go home and feel compassion. 

I will get off my soapbox now.  Before I go - do you know what weltschmerz is? It's defined as sort of a romantic "world-pain" - a sentimental sense of the tragedy of physical reality. But I think it goes deeper. Susan and I used to have a "swirling dream" that made us feel alienated - as if we didn't exist at all. And I have had dreams that are positively evil. The mind fascinates and terrifies me. The more we learn about the brain, the more we will be able to manipulate moods with drugs, and the less society will tolerate people with personality variations. I am already seeing this prejudice - people like me were accepted wholeheartedly, especially as library employees working in the 1970s and 80s, and now we are expected to be corporate clones. Susan says that even the school of library and information science at Dominican University weeds out the social misfits and won't admit them into the program, because even if they get good grades, their lack of social skills will prevent them from getting jobs. I think this is sad.

________________________________________________________________________________

2. Written at work:

( Sung to the tune of  If You're Happy and You Know it, Clap Your Hands—by EF /April 10, 2008)

I’m so cold and I’m so tired I could cry

My hands are cracked and bloody ‘cause it’s dry

I’m so cold and I’m so tired

Even though I might get fired

If I don’t depart this building, I will die.

I’m so scared of all the bosses that I shake

With each flogging not a whimper dare I make

I am spied on every hour

I’m a target with no power

If you see that I look happy, it is fake.

When I’m worried, there is no one I can tell

When I’m frightened, it’s as if my fear they smell

When I’m trembling, and it’s often

Or if I’m really feeling rotten

I keep quiet, or they’ll send me straight to hell.

When I’m home, all I can do is eat and sleep

When awake, I write my novel ‘til I weep

Eat and sleep when I’m not working

Write and weep where no one’s lurking

When I’m home, in all my files the bosses creep.

They record each freaking place I go online

They keep track of all the websites that I find

As they list all my infractions

After logging all my actions

They act cheery and assure me all is fine.

I am told how to behave and how to think

My tolerance for bullshit’s on the brink

If I slip and be myself

It will soon affect my health

So I’m spending half my paycheck on a shrink.

You ask me why on earth I don’t retire

Why I tolerate their vileness and their ire

I give you my assurance

That if not for the insurance

I’d be gone, replaced by someone cheap to hire.

Someday they’ll find my body on the floor

They will trip in haste to get me to the door

Then they’ll litigate in force

But you cannot sue a corpse

They’ll be glad that I don’t work there any more.

I’m so cold and I’m so tired I could cry

I want to go to bed and close my eyes

I’m so chilly I could weep

All I want to do is sleep

If it weren’t for daily Prozac, I would die!

_________________________________________

Also--very sad. I was also still drinking at that time. Sober now for two years and two days, and damned glad to have been out of that environment for five and a half years!
.

The Menstrual Marathon--what I didn't put on Facebook

Unless you've been living in a remote cave for the last week, you've read the article about the woman who ran the London Marathon while having her period, and chose not to wear sanitary protection. Here are a couple of links:

People Magazine article about Kiran Gandhi  

http://www.ryot.org/woman-fights-the-stigma-associated-with-menstruation-by-running-a-marathon-without-wearing-a-tampon/940163

I've read most of the comments under various versions of the article, and they interest me. Generally, there are two points of view: (1) "You go, sister!" and (2) "How disgusting!" I had the opportunity on Facebook to share my thoughts; below is my post,

I'm looking at this from a social scientist's point of view; also, from a purely medical mindset (for lack of a better word).There's an undercurrent of profiling here that gets under my craw. We have a pre-menopausal, attractive woman who is physically fit enough to run a marathon, and her photogenic smile smacks of a certain "image..." as if she knows on some level that any health issue that would put others exposed to her bodily fluids at risk is not at the forefront of viewers' minds. So - me being me, that's the first reaction I have to this story. My second reaction is just "ick!" But again, it's not my marathon, and not my Auntie Flo--she left the room a long time ago, and I thank the Crone Goddess for that.

What I didn't put on Facebook, either because I didn't think of it or thought I'd offend people:

• What if a gay man with a bloody nose were running that marathon? (Of course, nowadays, we don't hear a lot about AIDS in the USA and other Western countries, and I rarely hear of a gay man dying of the disease now) 
• So - she can get by with esposing airborne pathogens from her free-flowing blood because she gets to. Her ethnicity may not be Caucasian, but she's a Harvard Business School gradulate and a drummer for singer M.I.A. As I said in my Facebook post, she doesn't fit the profile. (Only three-tenths of the population of India is infected)
• Have we reached a turning point in our collective thinking where HIV and AIDS aren't a part of our daily concerns? If we think about it at all, it's when we read about Haiti and African countries. AIDS exceeds 20% of the population in Botswana. South Africa has the largest number of people, but a lower percentage since they have a large population. But that's remote, and it's "those people." 
• If Kiran Gandhi has done anything for me by running the marathon with blood running down her leg, she has reminded me how dismissive I myself have been regarding "those people." 
• Considering what happened at the Boston Marathon in 2013, I can't believe the amount of media coverage of this woman's display.
• From the political to the personal,  I have to hand it to her for running 26.2 miles on the first day of her period. If she'd wanted to make a point, perhaps she should have used cloth rags or leaves. That is what our "sisters" without access to sanitary products have done since the beginning of time.
• From the personal to the trivial - did anyone notice that she wore red leggings for the run? And she must have had brutal cramps. It's been 14 years since I bid farewell to my ladies' time, but I have sharp recollections of wanting to chew Advil, curl up in bed and be completely alone on the first day of my period. Of course, I didn't do that - I got up and went to work, along with all my "sisters." Our cycles were probably synchronized - my department was known as the PMS Hall of Shame.

I would love to hear some feedback on this from other bloggers. Right now, even though "surfing the crimson wave" is a thing of the past for me, I believe I'll go eat some chocolate. 

Choice Architecture, Pattern Interrupts and My Fat Ass

I want to share a lesson about behavioral change that I learned from Paul Dale Anderson today, through an e-mail about an unrelated topic. It applies to my situation perfectly.

Today I have to go to my doctor's office for what I presume is a "check in" visit. I know Queen Jane will make me step on the scale. I have gained almost 10 pounds since I was last weighed there, so I'm not thrilled .Last time I was at the royal palace, I weighed a lot less. And - of course - Queen Jane's scale weighs five pounds heavier than ours at home.

Marie has noticed (how could she not?) that I've been in the habit of mixing peanut butter with Hershey's chocolate sauce and eating it every night with a spoon. She hasn't nagged nor criticized me. Instead, last week when she did our grocery shopping, Marie bought me a half-gallon of chocolate and caramel yogurt which tastes like ice cream, and quietly put it in the freezer. A half-cup serving is 130 calories.

Marie has observed, (how could she not?), that over the past week, I've been eating TWO scoops of that chocolate and caramel yogurt at night, and topping it with a glob of peanut butter and some chocolate sauce. This means I'm adding another 130 calories with the second scoop. Two level spoonfuls of peanut butter = 240 calories, and the chocolate sauce would add another 180. And I really need to lose weight. She knows that I want to. She, too, is on a healthy eating pattern.

Today she suggested that I just eat one scoop and dribble a little bit of chocolate sauce on top.

I was NOT OFFENDED. I didn't feel like she was monitoring my eating habits and commenting on them. I didn't feel patronized nor shamed. Why is this? Paul's words in quotes, explains it: Because Marie "did not argue, remonstrate nor berate me". by buying me the lowfat yogurt and suggesting a different way to enjoy it. She "simply showed me that I have a better choice."

The lesson, and I do quote Paul: "Just flip the frame with a pattern interrupt! It's called "choice architecture" -- and it acts as a kind of influence flip-stick: flipping a person from one choice of action to another choice of action." And that's EXACTLY what Marie is suggesting.

Photo of my fat ass

Garbage options in Wisconsin

Vacationing in Door County, Wisconsin for a week, and having my first experience with Wisconsin Garbage Options.Before all my friends get in my face about having a "bad attitude" with regard to having respect for Mother Earth, let me make two things clear:

   1. I do recycle, even though it's a long trip down our driveway with the bin

   2. (unrelated to this post) I hate the phrase "Living Green," especially when used in hotels and motels who don't want to wash your sheets. They urge us to save the planet even if we went to bed, as I often do, with Argan oil all over my toes.

Presently, Marie and I are staying in a rental cottage in in Egg Harbor, Wisconsin, with all four cats. It's an older cabin with a charming juxtaposition of rustic and state of the art amenities (jacuzzi, skylights, wi-fi, Sirius), and best of all, it allows pets. It has taken Marie and me years to find a place in Door county where we could bring our cats after the Shallows changed ownership. This place is cat heaven.

But this place is Garbage Hell.

This is too much for my head. 

1. Plastic/Cans/Glass--Do I have to rinse out the cat food cans first? I don't. In they go. I get the plastic and glass. But why isn't there a place designated for paper recyclables?

2. Garbage Only- what does that mean? What do you do with dead batteries? Paper products? Milk cartons? Discarded Jamberry nail wraps?

3. Under The Sink---is this where you put the little bags (tied shut, of course) after cleaning clumping cat litter? The litter is organic, but the bags aren't. What are we going to do on the last day before we leave? I suppose we could take both bags to the woods, turn them upside down and give the contents the heave-ho, and bring the bags back inside for Can #1.

4. Can I put banana peels in the "compost" one? I haven't done so. And can I put the wet coffee grounds in there along with the filter, or do I have to dump them out of the filter and throw the filter elsewhere? This sign was not made for you and me.

5. Last, but not least, what do we do when we want to take ALL the trash out? Or do we? When all else fails, I'd better reread the instructions.

Having a wonderful time, though!

Hymnody Part II, and Ruth Duck

Yup, I'm still on this jag, and I find I have more to say.

You've already been warned. Go to any mainstream Protestant church these days, and if you love traditional hymns as I do, be very afraid. The United Methodist Church is due for a hymnal update; their most recent hymnal was published in 1989. They have a supplementary hymnal which includes Eternal Father, Strong to Save, because many members/churchgoers got their panties in a twist at the 1989 omission of of the Navy Hymn--myself included. And I do love their inclusion of My Song Is Love Unknown, sung to the wonderful tune Rhosymedre. Although I applaud that along with Navy Hymn, with words intact, we are also treated with such gems as Lead On, O Cloud of Presence instead of Lead on, O King Eternal. How does a cloud lead? The only clouds in my life these days, other than the ones in the sky, are Amazon Music, where I store my music, and Dropbox, where I send the photos I take with my phone--and maybe Joni Mitchell's album from the 70s.  

Then we have The Fragrance of Christ. I'm not even going there. Here's another hymn to ponder: Someone Asked the Question' (Why We Sing.) Why indeed?

And then, when I'm about to give up, I discover the wonderful Let All Things Now Living, which I radiantly sang in my childhood to the tune of The Ash Grove. Thank God I play by ear, because they chose not to include the harmony on that one. But it's there!

So why must we go from the sublime to the Pampers ode: A Mother Lined Her Basket, To Keep Her Baby Dry?" 

Caveat for people like me: There will be a supplementary hymnal in the pew rack of most churches you visit.

The United Church of Christ has Renew! Songs and Hymns for Blended Worship. I shamelessly admit I don't mind this one, because they didn't do as much damage to the lyrics as others have. My favorite hymn tune, Hyfrydol, has been rewritten as Praise the Lord! O heavens adore him. I guess they don't mind the gender-specific pronouns, but they don't like the ye and thee and thou language. But that isn't terrible. They also have the fabulous Let All Things Now Living, also sung to The Ash Grove, with the harmony included. Actually, there is nothing in the UCC supplementary hymnal to offend me, except for the fact that our UCC (at least the one in my neighborhood) has an electronic appliance instead of a pipe organ, and they never use it - the drum kits are all set up with the electric guitars at the ready for services. As I wrote in an earlier entry, the congregational hymn for Stewardship Sunday was the Beatles' Help! I Need Somebody! That ain't not in no hymnal nohow. I admit that after that, I never went back.

HELP!

I took this up with my best friend, Marie, who is Catholic and familiar with contemporary hymns. (For the record, I love many of them; the ones John Michael Talbot wrote in the sixties are wonderful). Marie's father was Methodist, and she gaily scanned the index of my red 1989 UMC hymnal for Out of the Ivory Palaces, Into a World of Woe. I can report, with a gladsome mind, that it is not there. She pulled it up on YouTube for my delectation, and it sounded like someone breaking into song in a corny 1950's musical. She reminded me that the Methodists used to sing it. Yikes. What goes around might come around.

Ruth Duck
Finally, Marie introduced me to the wonders of Ruth Duck. (You wondered when I'd get to her, didn't you?)  A professor of worship at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary in Evanston, Illinois, which happens to be a institution that I highly respect, she is one of the top leaders in the movement to make hymn lyrics gender-neutral and "relevant." This terrifies me, because that seminary has turned out some fine United Methodist clergy. The alarm bell has gone off: how I dread the next UMC hymnal revision. Here is an example of Ruth Duck's many hymn texts for contemporary worship; this one made me spew my coffee. You all know this traditional tune if you listen to Enya; she sings it with grace on her Shepherd Moons album. I give you Ms. Duck's first two verses: I can't bear to go on. Lord help us, this is what she did to How Can I Keep from Singing?

Source: http://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/september-11-hymns-by-ruth-duck

We Humans Build to Frame a Life, by Ruth Duck
Recommended Tune: How Can I Keep from Singing -The Faith We Sing, UMH 2212

We humans build to frame a life
with meaning, love, and feeling,
but time or hate can bring collapse
and loss can leave us reeling.
Let faithful souls from rubble rise
to find new ways from sorrow
and slowly, slowly form a shape
to welcome God's tomorrow. 

For everything our hands construct
will one day fall and crumble'
The God who is a carpenter
creates from scrap and jumble.
And we can join the work of God
to raise a new creation
that what we do will long endure
upon a firm foundation.

_________________________________

I used to write stuff like that when I was still drinking. The shapes that formed in my twisted head would have welcomed no one. Indeed, all that I touched crumbled into scrap and jumble. It wasn't until Aug, 24, 2013, after my final collapse that left me reeling, that I rose from the rubble and decided to get sober. From the sound of this ditty, I guess I'd better go buy a Wonderbra to provide a firm foundation should I find myself having to actually sing this. 

There is only one means of relief: my sick sense of humor. I went to my favorite parody site, where some of my own song parodies are actually published, and looked up hymn parodies. i found this delight and sent it to Paul, my boyfriend, who is a good Swede like me and is willing to commiserate about the indignities of aging. I leave you with this amazing piece of work.

http://www.amiright.com/parody/misc/traditionalhymn15.shtml

I’m aging great; young Swedes, I’ve found, go ape for-a lech like me
I once was soft, but lost the pounds, was wide, but now I’m lean

The ‘grays’ I thought I’d have to shear alas did not recede
Not plenteous are the grays I’d feared, and I am so relieved!

Some men are vain, and spoiled and scared of what they might become;
Our grays and guts we guys bemoan -- our parts define the sum.

I still can make the wood to please the babes my looks secure;
When it goes soft, my Porsche will be my only needed cure

Yes, once my rod has lost its kick, and babes no more can please;
I’ll still have skill to drive my ‘stick’, for I’ll still have the keys

That’s all for now, I have to go – the Por-sche needs a shine;
So when my good looks fin’lly go, the babes can still be mine.
________________________________________________________

See y'all on Sunday. As I said, the Methodist church has a pipe organ. I will survive.

Hymnody--and decisions

Here we go again. 

They're going away. The hymns we grew up singing - those of us who were Presbyterian, Methodist, Episcopalian. The PC Police have invaded. On March 29, I go to the new members' class to decide if I want to sign up to become a United Methodist. And I am having the jitters. 

Should I join, or should I continue as a visitor? Should I do one final round of research? Do I need to visit some more churches and look at some more hymnals?

The Episcopal Church:
I was confirmed by Bishop Montgomery in Chicago as an Episcopalian in the 70s, and I left when they stopped using the 1928 Book of Common Prayer and the Hymnal 1940. I haven't revisited an Episcopalian service because I fear that even the smell of the communion wine could threaten my sobriety. However, I went to a funeral earlier this year at an Episcopal Church and was lured their way due to the processional cross and wonderful hymns. Is this where I belong? Do I want to drive all the way downtown on Sunday mornings, or should I see what else is around? Location, location, location.

OK. There's an Episcopal Church in my neighborhood, I googled them to see what they were like, and discovered that their "traditional" service is at the godforsaken hour of 8:30 AM, and it features their "praise team." So my choice is clear: go Episcopal only if I'm willing to get up early for a bit of a drive.

The Presbyterian Church:
I was raised Presbyterian. I adored the hymns. Now I learn that the Presbyterian Church just approved gay marriage, which makes me cheer. (The United Methodists won't even ordain gays and lesbians, but there are plenty of rebels working to get that changed).  Should I pay the Presbyterians a visit as well? My mother has a copy of their current hymnal, and it seems unscathed. One of my sisters is an elder in that denomination. But I sense something sinister coming their way too - I've already heard Spirit Song, and it sounds like a Petula Clark pop song from 1965. Pass.

The Lutheran Church:
God help the Lutherans - their music is the mightiest of all, and I don't dare venture there for fear of what I might find. The one I like in Rockford has a gorgeous pipe organ and they use it. I think they do, anyway. At least I would get to sing Children of the Heavenly Father. Unless they've changed it to the Heavenly Mother.

The American Baptists:  Just - no.

The United Church of Christ:  Been there and blogged about it.

The United Methodists, again:
Theology is of the utmost importance to me, but the music program is the dealbreaker when I choose a church. I picked Christ United Methodist because I have no quarrel with their beliefs, they're in my neighborhood, and they have that terrific H.A. Howell pipe organ. But I'm not liking what I'm seeing. Their bulletin used to say "Traditional worship: 9:30 AM; Contemporary Worship, 11:00 AM." Now, it's calling the 9:30 service Mixed Worship. It's happening. And I don't like having to get up early enough to get to a 9:30 service if there's going to be swinging and swaying.

So - I'll attend their New Members class on Palm Sunday. I'll listen to the pastors. I'll ask my questions, if I can. And I'll eventually make up my mind. Stay tuned.

Facebook Fun

January 23, 2015 at 10:02am

Rules:

                                                              

Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

(To do this, go to "notes" under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the top right hand corner of the app)then click publish.) 

To find the "Notes" section, click on"More." If you don't see it, click on "manage sections" and select it. Then, it will show up on the drop-down menu under notes.

                                                                     Elizabeth's 25 Random Facts

1. I have a strong aversion to cilantro. To me, it tastes like soap. I researched it and found out that it's wired into our genes; 10% of individuals tested thought it tasted like soap. I am part of the 10%. The other 90% thinks it's sweet.

2. I flunked Driver's Ed in high school. (Big surprise!) :)  But I learned to drive on a stick-shift and I can still drive one.

3. I can't stand to be in a room with just the overhead light on. There have to be lamps lit. Ambience is important to me.

4. Up until I turned 60, I was an excellent speller. Now, I have difficulty. (When I typed "Ambience," it showed up underlined in red. (I looked it up. The "ance" and "ence" endings are both accurate; the "ence" spelling actually more common, so in this case, I was right). But I often have to look up words or, if I'm lazy, ask Marie how to spell them. It is very unsettling to have trouble with spelling.

5. I know all the words to "Frank Mills" from "Hair" and love to drive people crazy by singing it.

6. I learned how to read when I was four. My Helen Keller moment: In 1954, we had a fan made by a company called "Belco." Mom recalls that I looked at the brand name on the fan, said "B-E-L-C-O---Belco!" and shrugged my shoulders. Mom called Dad at work and said, "Bob. She's reading!"

7. I went to high school with John Belushi. We graduated from Wheaton Central High School, Wheaton, IL - John in 1967, me in 1968. He was homecoming king, captain of the football team, and a killer guitarist.

8. I am a friend of Bill W.

9. I have a near-photographic memory for conversations and events that occurred in the past, but I can't remember the name of the next town when we're on vacation. (Right now, it's Englewood, Florida and I keep saying "Edgerton")

10. I have no sense of direction.

11. Once I have a piece of music memorized in my mind, I can sit down at the piano and replicate it, by ear, including all the inner harmonies. I used to think everyone could do that. Dad had to sit me down when I was in grade school and gently inform me that most people cannot, and that I had inherited it, and it was rude for me to get impatient with other people who don't play by ear. It is a gift and I wish everyone had it! I can't teach music lessons because of my difficulty with print music.

12. I invented pantyhose. When I was about 13,and old enough for "nylons," I remember thinking: "Why don't they make these like tights?" A few years later, pantyhose appeared on the market. Too bad I didn't get credit!

13. I am an absolute klutz- not graceful -terrible at all sports - I trip and fall and bump into things all the time.  I have never been able to touch my toes without bending my knees.

14. I'm left-handed, but I play the guitar right-handed (It's easier, actually, for lefties - our dominant hand makes the chords)

15. I can swear in Swedish, French, German,Spanish, and Lithuanian. (I'm not Lithuanian - I'm 75% Swedish and 25%Scotch-Irish WASP)

16. I am a psychology junkie.  I'm well-read in the field, but never pursued a career in any aspect of psychology because I couldn't have passed statistics. Secret vice: I love personality tests.I test as ENFJ sometimes and INFJ other times on the Myers-Briggs, D on the DISC test, I'm an Enneagram Four, and in Neurolinguistic Programming (NLP) I'm auditory-kinesthetic.

17. I still don't understand football.

18. I consider myself to be very well-read; I love to read -- I retired from a 35-year paraprofessional reference librarian career in 2010. I can quote passages at length from books across most disciplines. I have a special affinity for medicine and know quite a bit about the field.  My father was quite a scholar; as is Paul, the man I've been seeing for almost 3 years, and Marie my best friend and housemate. I love nothing more than long, intellectual discussions about cosmology, psychology ,philosophy, social trends, family dynamics, human behavior - you name it. The two people closest to me, Paul and Marie, are smarter than I am and I learn a lot from them.

19. On the other hand --- they can learn something from me! I am almost an authority on music. I had almost a double major in college - my major was art and my minor was music; I had more than the required courses for a minor. I love to talk about music with people of all ages. My first love is "classical" music, (I can still explain sonata-allegro form in symphonies from the classical period, tritones, Picardy thirds, parallel octaves and fifths in part-writing {a big no-no}, Neapolitan sixths, shape-note singing, the evolution of the Appalachian dulcimer, the idiosyncrasies of pianos {I prefer Asian pianos}, the difference between tracker and electro-pneumatic action in pipe organs, modes {pitch relationships in a scale i.e. C Ionian, D Dorian, E Phrygian and so on},Bach fugues,polyphonic texture - the list goes on). However, I never learned to identify   all the instruments in an orchestra.

20. I am in the process of converting to United Methodism.

21. I am a published author - my novel, The Five Notebooks, is available on amazon in trade PB & Kindle. 

22. I am cooking-illiterate. Put me in a kitchen and I will probably burn down the house. I still don't know how to boil an egg.

23. I was in a rock band in high school. We called ourselves "The Children of Stone," and I was the only girl. I played rhythm guitar. During boring classes, I used to sketch Fender guitars in my notebooks. The lead guitarist threw his electric guitar down the basement stairs because I wouldn't go out with him (I was in love with the bass player)

24. I have kept a journal since age 12. Since 1990, I have filled over 300 blank books. I have huge storage containers all over the house full of notebooks and binders with all the poetry and trunk novels I've written.

25. I am fascinated by names and collect books on the subject. I also collect antique etiquette books. Everyone knows I collect dolls. They all have first and middle names and some have surnames; I can remember them all. I am a crazy doll lady, and - of course - a crazy cat lady as well. We have Cassandra Cecilia, Cory Jax, Beauregard Blue Boy and Willow Angel.