Please change your bookmarks and update your feeds. My new blog home is at http://www.caryncaldwell.com/blog (Yes! I finally have my own domain. Yay!) My new feed address is http://feeds.feedburner.com/booklady.
Spreading the Blog Love
Friday, November 28, 2008 at 5:17 pm (I Have Fun Sometimes, If I Were the Queen, Internetting)
Note: I’ve moved, so if you’re reading this through an RSS feed or at http://booklady.wordpress.com, then please change your links. The new RSS feed address is http://feeds.feedburner.com/booklady, and the new website is http://www.caryncaldwell.com/blog. Thanks!
As anyone who’s ever tagged me for a meme knows, if I don’t answer right away then I never do. And to be honest, I never answer right away, usually because I can’t think of what to write. By the time the words would have come to me, I’ve usually forgotten the assignment. (Incidentally, this is not very different from my middle school years, when I procrastinated on my homework until long past the expiration date. Of course, back then I could blame it on friends, lack of motivation, and an unhealthy interest in a certain few boys who, in turn, had no interest in me whatsoever.)
But when my friend Robin Bielman awarded my blog — and six others — the lovely badge to the left, I knew I couldn’t ignore it. Sheer terror had much to do with my dutiful response, since Robin knows where I live, she could totally take me in a fight, she knows several of my more potent secrets, and she critiques my writing. There was more to it than lack of courage, however. I loved the spirit of this award, which was designed to acknowledge bloggers who tirelessly entertain near-strangers with regular, good-quality content — and all for free.
It’s deciding which worthy bloggers deserved the honor next that gave me the most difficulty, of course. How is it possible to narrow down my favorite blogs to just seven, even when accounting for those who had already received the badge from someone else? And how could I do that without hurting the feelings of those who were left? After all, I think everyone on my blogroll is deserving of recognition. And so I grabbed all of the eligible names from my sorely outdated list of links, shuffled them in a high-tech fashion, and chose the top seven. If you have the opportunity, please take a few moments to check out the following blogs, as well as the ones from my blogroll that ended up later in the randomized list and so didn’t get chosen this time around. I bet you’ll find some fun new reads that way.
And now, without further fanfare, I hereby present the I Love Your Blog badge of honor to:
- Katie from Cactus Kate for her gorgeous photographs and awe-inspiring gardening abilities
- Courtney from Five-Second Dance Party for her unflinching honesty and warm-heartedness
- Sandi Kahn Shelton for writing posts that never fail to make me laugh and, on some occasions, tear up
- Alyson Noel from Tales from the Real OC (Really!) for her fun updates, insights into the life of an author, and many cool website recommendations
- Chemical Billy for writing drop dead gorgeous prose that makes the world around her come alive for her readers
- Eileen Cook from Just My Type for finding the most random, bizarre, and entertaining links to pass on to the rest of us. I don’t know how she does it!
- Emily from The Sassy Lime for being such a sweetie, and for her cheerfulness in the face of near-constant pain
Thank you, ladies, for your inspiring, entertaining, and always-interesting posts! Please pass on the blog love by putting the badge of honor on your sites and awarding it to seven other deserving bloggers.
Moving Day
Sunday, November 23, 2008 at 1:07 pm (Internetting)
Tags: blogging, blogs, css, feedburner, web design, websites, wordpress
To the average reader, it would seem as if I have been neglecting my bloggerly duties. After all, I haven’t posted in, oh, a while. And what more is there to blogging than posting?
The average reader would, however, be deeply incorrect. In addition to beginning an astonishing number of posts that went nowhere and arranging a special surprise for next weekend, I have been wandering around, lost and blindfolded, in the land of web design. Turns out when you value quality control (or, okay, are an anal perfectionist) like me, web design becomes an obsession, creating hollow-eyed zombies out of (fairly) normal people. Even now I find myself fighting the urge to tweak one more line of code on my shiny new homepage, add a tenth widget to my brand new blog, or install yet another show-offy plugin on my radically improved photoblog. I could also change the fonts. Or perhaps the link colors. Or the wording on the welcome page.
See? I am now a crazy person. CSS did that to me. Robin and Pam do share part of the blame, though, since I was forced to watch longingly from the shadows while both of them obtained pretty new websites. In the meantime, I languished here in the land of free hosting. And so, yes, when I obtained the freedom that came with setting up my own webbly home I went a little nuts. On the blog alone there will be footnotes! And polls! And cool subscription options! And many other unnecessary frills to astound and delight! I’d like to think it’s worth it. And if the universe is willing (please make it so!) this will be my last big move ever. Yeehaw.
And now, without further segue, the boring, practical stuff…
Feeds:
If you already subscribe to this blog using an RSS feed, you may or may not have to change your subscription. If you use the Feedburner feed, no modifications are necessary. I can take the feed with me, so for a few days it will still show information for my old blog. When I have a new post up, I’ll switch it over to start displaying info for the new blog. (Feedburner is cool like that. If you don’t use it for your own blog, I recommend it.) And, of course, if you subscribed using my regular feed address then click here to change to the Feedburner subscription. Or you could just get email updates. Your choice.
Links:
New website: http://www.caryncaldwell.com
New blog home: http://www.caryncaldwell.com/blog
New photoblog: http://www.caryncaldwell.com/photos
Note:
If you have blogrolled this page, I thank you from the depths of my soul. In a while I’ll put up a redirection from this blog to my new one. However, if you’re feeling kind, changing the links would be great.
Hope to see you over at my new home on the internet!
Anybody Want a Cat? Or Three?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008 at 6:02 pm (Cat Obsession, Let's Get Personal, Photos)
Tags: Cats, humor, insomnia, kitties, Photos
Free to good any home: Three moon-drunk felines weighing a total of thirty pounds. Can be separated, but extra vocalizations ensue when two youngest are apart. Special skills/talents: pitiful looks, persistence, precociousness, curiosity, ability to jump long distances, enthusiasm, admirable dedication to chasing computer cursors and wrestling each other. Disadvantages: same. If interested, please reply to keepmycats@takethemnow.net.
Background, in the name of disclosure: These cats are prone to the night-crazies, and have been known to keep household members awake long into the the early morning. Last night’s exhibitions were particularly severe, and have prompted this limited-time offer. For example: The Basil sat under the window and howled at the visible moon. He and Rosemary, both friendly sorts, set up a wrestling tournament on my prone body. Someone threw up. Someone ate it. Someone pooped on the master bathroom floor. Someone attempted to bury it with linoleum. Someone got locked out, and then pawed and meowed at the door until let back in. Someone sat on my head. Someone walked on it. Someone chewed the cat kibbles so loudly the breaking food echoed throughout the room.
And now three someones are in trouble.
This morning came way too early for forgiveness. If they let me sleep tonight, I might allow them to live. I may even keep them, in which case this offer is null and void. But I’m a little cranky, so you’re probably in luck. Anyone? Anyone???
The Burn
Wednesday, October 22, 2008 at 4:54 pm (Let's Get Personal)
The bedroom door swings open, light from the hallway streaming in. The cats, who have been lumped on top of me, scatter, eyes wide and tails at half mast.
“Sorry to wake you,” says hubs from the doorway. He was not tired when I succumbed to sleep an hour before, and is still fully dressed and alert. “They said we might need to evacuate, so I thought I should warn you. Just in case you wanted to be ready.”
I am still fumbling my way out of sleep, and this intrusion seems less like reality than like an extension of the dreams that have already begun to evaporate. Nodding, I push back the covers, the motion peeling away some of my exhaustion. My brain begins to buzz and wake. A chilly breeze crawls along my bare arms, further rousing me.
“Why?” I mumble. My voice is dry from disuse, and I pause to clear it. “What’s going on?”
“Fire. Come on. I’ll show you.”
Barefoot, I pad after him through the house and out the front door. We stand side-by-side on the smooth flagstone path and watch. The sky to the west is a billowing pink plume, the cliffs around us awash with shifting shades of rust and salmon. The fire is giant, and spreading. Above is an infinite black sky strewn with a million stars. All around, neighbors have wandered onto their porches or into the street to watch the drama unfold. It is surreal to be pulled from the peace that comes with sleep, only to witness destruction in the dark with near-strangers.
The fire is close, a few miles at most, but all we can smell are the dew-dampened grass and the rotting leaves of autumn. This is good news; the wind is not blowing the inferno in our direction. We retreat inside to plan, in case it shifts. Plans are good. They make us feel in control.
The cats are our first priority. This does not require agreement; it simply is. After that, the computer with my writing. Our photos, wallets, journals. A few other things we’ve accumulated over the years. That’s it. All else can burn if necessary — not easily, but without such heart-wrenching loss. I am stunned at how few essentials we possess, and absurdly proud.
Later, once all is gathered, I try to sleep. It is barely possible. My limbs hum with adrenaline, my mind races with thoughts. When sleep comes, I flit along just under its surface, waking often. The cats, oblivious to the drama, doze on through the night. Hubs leaves to investigate and does not return for hours.
This morning the flames are contained, and those who live near are wrecked from stress and adrenaline and lack of sleep. Things could change, but for now all seems safe.
There is a curious kind of joy, a buoyancy, that comes with escaping disaster. It weaves through the building where I work, joining and then overtaking the smell of stale smoke curling in through the vents and window cracks. Although I think longingly of the sleep that escaped me last night, some of the mania flows through my veins, too. And somehow the mixture feels just right.
Seeking the Elusive Elixer of NO
Sunday, October 12, 2008 at 8:14 pm (Let's Get Personal, To Whom it May Concern)
Tags: humor, life, no, open letters, rejection
Dear Friend / Employer / Charity / Business Acquaintance / Neighbor,
I regret to inform you that the answer to your recent request is a firm and resounding NO. I do understand the position that you are in, and that you would appreciate my: help with the move / coming in on my day off / making a generous donation / becoming a dues-paying member of your newly established professional group / walking your dog five times a day while you’re on vacation. However, due to a recently expanded work load in my personal and professional lives, as of this morning I have committed to saying NO to every request and offer, and you have the distinct honor of receiving this message first. Congratulations.
Please understand that this was a difficult decision, and one about which I deliberated for quite some time, but I find I must be consistent in my refusal, lest hurt feelings and resentment ensue. As this is a new program, it is subject to change at any time, so you may wish to renew your application in the future.
Once again, I appreciate the importance of your request and am honored that you thought of me. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me in the same manner in which you have done so previously.
With regrets,
Caryn
a.k.a. The Chronic Yes-Woman
P.S. Hey, that was a good attempt, wasn’t it? I almost had you going! Anyway, for those who want my help, I’ll be over next Saturday — say, around eightish? Who needs to sleep in on the weekend, anyway? For all others, the check is in the mail. I should warn you, though, that next time I really will say no. I’m not kidding. Meanwhile, thanks for the chance to practice my rejection technique. I realize it needs a little work on the follow-through, but I think I’m onto something here.
P.P.S. I’m serious here. Next time, the answer is NO. Really. I promise.
A Post About Repairs — Now With Photos!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008 at 7:52 pm (Cat Obsession, Let's Get Personal, Photos, Writing & Reading)
Tags: humor, life, mechanics, repairs, revisions, writing
Seems everything needed repairs this week. First there was an elderly but sturdy machine at work, which required my second-favorite set of instructions ever: the now-infamous page 36 from the vintage manual I keep in a nearby cupboard.
Raise your hand if you had to stifle a juvenile snicker when you read the title above. Raise both if you were unsuccessful. Very good. You get three points if you’re the first to spot the spelling error, and ten if you can identify the machine in question.
Page 36 also requires a trip to the following diagram, which I would argue makes their assurance that it’s only “7 easy steps” a giant lie. Like the photo above, click if you need more detail, but do so with care lest your brain explode.
Despite my near-uselessness when it comes to anything mechanical, I managed to muddle through and get the mystery machine up and running again — just in time to go home and spend another evening trying to fix my book. Alas, that task doesn’t come with an instruction manual.

Aren’t they pretty? Good thing I don’t use red ink, or these pages would look like they’d been murdered, and that would ruin the tone of the whole book.

Then, of all the luck, I needed repairs, too. Yes, the flu visited again, just a month and a half after it last stopped by. So much for my weekend plans. Instead of going into the mountains to take photos like the one below, which I snapped a few years ago…
…I got to photograph things around home. This is not nearly as exciting — or as pretty.
Unfortunately, alien creatures kept popping into the frame at the last minute. The blobby heads and tails were so big that even Photoshop couldn’t help me fix the results. Too bad. I do hate to leave things unrepaired.
A Matter of Timing
Sunday, September 21, 2008 at 3:50 pm (Let's Get Personal, Writing & Reading)
Tags: bad days, comedy, humor, life, writing
On Friday morning steel gray clouds scudded across the sky and a restless breeze washed over the neighborhood, heralding bad weather to come. Hoping for rain, I ducked into my car and turned the key, then glanced over my shoulder as I sped down the driveway, later for work than usual. Then a thought struck me and I lurched to a stop a few feet from the road. My sunglasses, unnecessary that morning, were still in the house. It may have been too shady for shades, but the sun could break through later, leaving me to squint my way home again at the end of the day. I pulled up the parking brake, unclicked my seat belt, and threw open the door.
At that precise moment, the sprinkler in the front yard sprang into action. After the last cycle the head had come to a stop facing the driveway and now, with no warning, it burst on, hurling morning-cold water at my face, my skirt, the inside of my car. I spluttered, jumped out of my seat, and slammed the door, then sprinted onto our porch and out of range. As time ticked, I paused to wipe the drops from my face and watch the sprinkler sweep across the yard, dousing everything in its path.
I laughed, of course, and shook my head. I had to. It had been that kind of week, every day filled with miniature disasters, every night spent in tense tossing instead of sleep, every email and phone call left unanswered. This Friday morning comedy routine only added to it all with such perfection. I wanted to put it in a novel, down to the promise of rain hovering above the scene as if foreshadowing the whole event. It was, however, too well-timed to be real, too slapstick to be believed, and therefore too weird for fiction.






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