Great read:

I was in a bit of a funk after all the hubbub of my daughter getting married: exhausted, missing her, lost without my list of 10-things-must-do-right-this-minute. So what do I do? Why, read a book, of course!

Over the course of this past weekend, I devoured Sarah Addison Allen's Garden Spells. I LOVED the magical realism aspects: they are handled with authority, which, to my mind, goes a long way in making something believable. Loved the homeyness of the main character, Claire; loved, too, that the sister, Sydney, was a direct contrast. The final confrontation, near the end, had me holding my breath, reading quickly to see what happens.

My only small quibble is that I initially thought this might be intended for a YA audience. Not that there's anything wrong with that! No. It's that I don't usually read YA novels. In the end, I decided that wasn't the case.

If you enjoy magical realism, you'll LOVE this. And if you've always wondered what magical realism is, then this is a great introduction.

My Daughter Is Now Married

I'm a mess. It's been 5 days and I'm exhausted, wondering, bleary-eyed, happy-sad, lost.

First and foremost, the event was spectacularly awesome. The day was storybook perfect with temperatures in the mid 70's and sun shining. After weeks and weeks of rain and cold temps, that the day dawned warm and clear was truly a gift. The whole weekend was perfectly gorgeous to boot. As the saying goes in Wisconsin: if you don't like the weather, wait a day. True to form, in the days since the wedding, it's been unbearably humid and hot (in the mid 90's) and today it's 54. So, truly, the wedding day was plucked from the heavens.

The event itself went off without a hitch, though the stress leading up to it was crippling. There are millions of details for a wedding that must be identified, listed, taken care of, and crossed off. On top of these are the ones you've forgotten, the ones that pop into your awareness in the middle of the night, the ones that you must somehow add to the next day's list that's already too long. Then there's the issue of getting the house ready and in order so that you're not embarrassed when 40 people show up the day after the wedding for the gift opening. And when I say house, I mean inside and out. Dusting, vacuuming, window-washing. Yard work: pulling weeds, mowing grass, hauling mulch. In the 2 weeks prior to the wedding, my husband and I nearly killed ourselves hauling mulch from the driveway into the flowerbeds. And by mulch, I mean 33 yards. For those of you who need a visual, think of an impossibly huge pile of mulch and then triple it. Seriously.

I arrived at the day sunburned, stiff-limbed, and severely sleep deprived. Our house was bustling with activity: all the bridesmaids and mothers were getting our hair and makeup done at our house. My mother-in-law had advised that I should try to let loose with some emotion prior to the BIG DAY, but I had been so busy, so go go go, that I hadn't been able to find a quiet moment to relax. She was right, of course. As were all the others who dispensed sage advice. But what I recognize now is that this is a solitary experience. Even though we may have all married our daughters off, we will each experience it individually.

My daughter is my oldest child, the first one to get married, my only daughter. I am deliriously happy for her and her new husband. They are perfect for each other and love one another fiercely. But I cried many times that day, mostly in unexpected, out-of-nowhere moments. In the shower: I thought, she's not going to be mine any more, she'll no longer be a McMahon. While getting my hair styled: "Dog Days Are Over," a song by Florence + The Machine, came on and I thought of the first time I heard this song - while watching Glee with my daughter - and how, because I'd like the song, she'd bought me the CD. In the moments before I was to be escorted down the aisle: an overwhelming thought, this is real, this is real.

There are no time-honored traditions for moms that allow us to acknowledge our emotions during this life-changing event. Fathers offer a toast before dinner, a minute or five where heartfelt words are spoken, shining a light on the father's love for his daughter. Fathers also have the father/daughter dance in which a song that is meaningful to both dad and daughter is played, and they twirl about the floor, displaying for the room, the world, their love and affection, their honest emotions.

I sat on the sidelines watching them dance to IZ's "Somewhere Over The Rainbow," my heart swelling with love and pride while tears ran, unchecked, down my cheeks. In that moment I held my daughter in my heart, remembering words from my sister-in-law:

We raise and care for our children only to let them go when they are capable of caring for themselves; we hold their hands as they learn to walk only to let them go when they learn to run; we teach them to love and care for people so that when they find that love in another, they move away from us and live fully. But ultimately, we hold them in our hearts for all times and from there we never let them go. It is in this place that the joy of loving your child will abide and it is there that you will feel the tug that tells you it is time to pass your child, and all that she has become, to her chosen one.

I'm feeling a little raw, a little lost.

Batter Up

Got my contributor's copies last week of The Evansville Review. My story "Batter Up" appears in the latest issue. Woo-hoo! And get this: my story follows one from Margaret Atwood! How cool is that?

Strawberry Full Moon

It's been soooo long since I've pulled out my camera and played around with it, but last night as I was walking into the bedroom to get something, I saw the gloriously full moon peeking over the treetops in the neighbor's yard. It stopped me in my tracks! What is it about the moon that gives it such power, such pull? Does it do that to you? I'm betting it does, even if you won't admit it out loud. Imagine if we had TWO moons, or if we were on the moon and could look up and see Earth in our night sky! But that's for another post - ha.

So I quickly dropped what I was doing and went in search of my camera. I've gotten better about leaving the clip attached that allows the camera to fasten onto the tripod (it takes forever to screw on!), but as I grabbed my gear, I was frantically wracking my brain, trying to remember what settings to use to shoot the moon. I had to be quick: opportunity for the best shots is fleeting as the moon continues to inch upward.

I did remember to use the "bulb" setting, but the f-stop and shutter speed were a little trickier. I clicked off several before I found my groove. The first picture in the series below is a rather bland shot - the moon appears as nothing more than a seemingly smooth, white orb - but I'm posting it because it shows just how much setting changes the shot. Old hat to those of you who are experts at photography, but an interesting reminder to the rest of us!



Focal length = 170mm
f-stop = 5.6
shutter speed = 1/5






Focal length = 300 mm
f-stop = 22
shutter speed = 1/4





Focal length = 300mm
f-stop = 16
shutter speed = 1/25





Focal length = 300mm
f-stop = 36
shutter speed = 1/10



Aren't the differences amazing? Love the detail that comes through on the last three... I was trying to draw a correlation between f-stop and shutter speed (as it relates to the detail), but I can't - the values are all over the map: long, short, fast, faster. I think the 3rd on the list, here, is my favorite. Which do you like better?

Great read:

I've just finished reading Ellen Meister's The Other Life and I loved it. LOVED it! I couldn't put it down. It's got everything a great story is supposed to have: conflict, characters you care about, tension, an engaging plot line. And the premise is simply outstanding: a portal exists (several, in fact) that allows Quinn to cross timelines and pop out on the other side and into an alternate life, the one that continued on even though she chose B instead of A. Like a parallel universe. The sci-fi slant is simply delicious, my kind of sci-fi, where it's creative and different and possible without being totally over-the-top ridiculous. I cried a couple of times and, nope, I'm not ashamed to admit it! It moved me - just as great fiction is supposed to.

I highly recommend it.

James Durbin - American Idol

I know a lot of folks roll their eyes at the machine that has become American Idol, but I watch it, initially, for the funny/awkward/just-plain-bad auditions and then, later, as the season progresses, to see new and awesome talent. I get such joy out of listening to these kids hit notes I can only dream of, and there’s nothing better than listening to something and getting goose bumps. I’m not really discriminatory: if you can sing, and sing well, I’m a fan. But I also really dig artistry – making a song your own, reworking it, being genuine. The way David Cook did it. And Adam Lambert. I’ve taken a fair amount of grief over my love of Adam Lambert, season 8 runner up. Some people think he’s too showy, too “out there.” But that’s part of who he is, part of what makes him great. And there’s NO denying that guy can sing! Holy cow, when I re-watch some of his performances from season 8 (yes, I purchased them from iTunes), they leave me feeling gloriously alive – exactly how/what good music and great vocals are supposed to do.

And now this with James Durbin. This guy is so awesomely talented, so comfortable and genuine on stage, it blows my mind that he’s been voted off. So many kinds of wrong. The only thing I can think of is that everyone thought he was safe and so didn’t vote. I mean, really. Scotty is a nice guy, but he’s no American Idol. James Durbin can sing circles around him! The silver lining in this is that James Durbin is now free to do his own thing and won’t be bound to sing those ridiculously sappy-lyric pop songs they make the winner sing.

The American Idol season is done for me.

Rock on James Durbin.

Stargate Universe

I tuned in to watch the season finale last night of Stargate Universe... did you see it? It was GREAT. Loved it, love the show. I look forward to seeing it every week. So, today, as my withdrawals kicked it, I went online to see how long I'd have to wait for my next fix and learned that what I enjoyed last night wasn't the season finale but the SERIES finale!! Yep, that's right. Finished. Done for. Kaput. I am stunned. And heartbroken, and devastated and, well, pissed. Who made this decision? Why is the better question. There are so many crappy, crappy shows on TV that it seems truly unfair when a creative, engaging one gets shelved.

I have been with the Stargate series from the beginning. There is, of course, the original Stargate movie (which I don't think is nearly as good as any of the series, but the spark of greatness has to begin somewhere). From the movie came Stargate SG-1. LOVED this show. How could you not love Richard Dean Anderson?? Loved the show so much that my kids bought me one of the seasons on DVD (which is saying something because I don't like to watch/read anything twice). SG-1 ran for 10 seasons.

Then came Stargate Atlantis. Another great show. Not quite as good as SG-1, initially (to be fair, SG-1 had had my attention for 10 years... big shoes to fill!), but I grew to love the characters and the issues they had to deal with as much as the SG-1 crew. Good, too, that they had characters from SG-1 on the Atlantis show every now and again. This series ran 5 years.

Then came Stargate Universe. Perhaps the best yet. Such an awesome premise, so creative. Similar in concept, yet evolved. LOVED it. Killed it after only 2 seasons.

There's nothing left worth watching on the sci-fi channel. Truly a shame.

I'm in mourning.