Random Monday thoughts

NPR gives you great things to think about. This morning as I drove to work I heard Wallace Stegner's son discussing his father's writing habits--no idea what occasioned this discussion. But it seem Stegner wrote on a manual typewriter, never electric but the kind where you have to put real pressure on each key. It gave him time to think about what he was writing, carefully choose and craft his words and sentences--and the care shows in his writing of course. Then tonight, I read a blog by several mystery writers who were discussing funny typos--bowels for bowls in the kitchenware section, pubic for public, etc. Several of them said they make typos because their brains go faster than their fingers. So maybe there's really something to ponder in Stegner's method. Computers make it easy to be quick and glib, to almost write without thinking. Some will say that's letting your creative self go and following where it leads you, sort of like the tried and true theory about letting your characters tell you what they are going to do. All I know is I write too fast--but I rewrite and rewrite, over and over. No, I"m not about to go back to a manual typewriter. I remember those days when if you edited, you had to retype the whole darn book.
Then in a e-mail newsletter this morning, my friend and yoga instructor Elizabeth said she had been interviewing people about whether or not they thought they had courage and just what courage is. A littlel put out that she hadn't asked me, I wrote back that my first instinct was to say I have zip courage, none, not at all, because I am afraid of so many things--elevators, escalators, airplanes if I'm alone, losing my balance, etc. But then I decided maybe I do have courage because I make myself do a lot of the things that bother me. And, I suggested, maybe it took courage to raise four kids by myself. Elizabeth kindly replied she had always thought I had courage--among other things in running TCU Press. Thinking about yourself in terms of courage or lack thereof is an interesting exercise--I suspect men are more likely to say, "Of course, I have courage." But I know a lot that don't.
Jamie came over today to bring me the TV he got me for Christmas--it's to go in the bathroom, but even with an antenna, it gets poor reception, so the bathroom will have to be wired to AT&T U-Verse, like the other TVs in the house. Two installers told me it was impossible but Jamie could easily see a way to do it. Then he noticed the installation in the kitchen and went indignant--the installer tried to come down through the wall and left a 3-inch hole in the plaster--but the cross beams in an old house stymied him, so he put a plastic plate over the hole (it doesn't cover all the scraped paint and you can pull it off with two fingers-- some mouse might just push through it some night!). So now the wire comes into the dining room, snakes along the floor and around the corner into the kitchen, and then is clipped up the wall (with clips that pull right out--stay away, Jacob!), across the counter and makes a big loop under a cabinet. It is unsightly, but I had decided I just had to live with it--TV reception is great. No way. Jamie called U-Verse, told them he was calling for his mom (his exact words made me laugh--"She's not old but she's not the type to complain"). He must have spent 20 minutes on the phone (while we both practiced yoga--he's a lot better than I am). Then I talked to the supervisor of the hour who was most apologetic. They will file a damage claim for the wall and send yet another installer (I think I've had four so far) to do it right. And at that time I'll ask again about the bathroom. The man I talked to almost fell all over himself apologizing and thanking me for my patience and finally said something to the effect of it being really great to see a son stand up for his mom. I agreed. We'll see what happens.

Courage, Longevity, and the end of the rosy glow

I was late for work today. It's because I was watching the TODAY show, and Ann Curry was about to take a 120-ft. bungee leap off a 170-ft. bridge, and I wanted to see her do it. Partly this is because Colin once did a bungee jump off a bridge--I didn't know about it until afterward, for which I remain eternally grateful. But there was more than that. During the first hour, Curry was interviewed several times--getting ready, up on the bridge, being put into the necessary safety equipment. She never missed a beat. She was calm, clever, laughing, and yet serious about thanking the people who'd donated to this jump--proceeds would go to United Way. She also admitted to a little apprehension when she approached the edge off which she'd jump. Apprehension? I'd have been terrified out of my mind. I admit I'm phobic about heights, but the sight of her up that high, making jokes, knowing she was about to take a swan dive--literally, that's what she did--off the open end of a walkway really made me think about courage. I've always admired Curry--she seems to have a sense of adventure and daring that carries her through some wild assignments, like a trip to the South Pole or I think I remember her in a high-speed jet and other things (okay, Meredith Viera does some brave things, like rolling around in that plastic ball, and Matt Lauer takes real risks, but, hey, he's a guy!). Somehow I am drawn to Curry's sense of herself and her ease in the face of challenge. She did the jump with what was called "beautiful form"--a real swan dive, and then they left her hanging upside down for so long I would have been screaming, "Get me out of here," but she was laughing and talking into the mike she had on. And when she was finally in the rescue boat, she was completely together albeit a little windblown. I'd like to think I have some kinds of bravery--maybe emotional, maybe moral--but I sure don't have physical bravery, and I truly admire it when I see it. Ann Curry is one of my heroes.
Susan reminded me today that 2007 marks my 20th year as director of the press, and I added that it is also then my 25th year with the press. That got me to thinking about my salad days in publishing. If you want to read my thoughts, please go to http://www.bookishfrog.blogspot.com/.
The rosy glow that lingered after tree trimming has been replaced by compulsiveness--I was up early this morning to put away clean dishes and generally recover the house from the party (I haven't run the vacuum yet, which was one of Jordan's instructions, but maybe I'll get to it tomorrow). I spent three hours today getting ready to entertain my near neighbors tomorrow--made a huge Mexican casserole, something I used to make when I regularly cooked Sunday dinner for 10-15 people--and a bean salad, which I'm terrified won't be enough. I'll fluff it out with lettuce, even though the lettuce gets soggy in leftovers. I have several friends--most of them single women--who have said to me that they have no energy, can't do this or that because they can't work up the energy; they blame it on the season, and I want to shake them. Somehow the Christmas season seems to fill me with energy--my theory is the more I do, the more I enjoy it. (I may collapse tomorrow, but so far that's a viable theory). Tomorrow night's dinner will be so casual as to be almost embarrassing--leftover appetizers and desserts. My neighbor, Jay, thought that was all I was going to serve and said helpfully, "I make a terrific lasagne." But I really do have a plan. It's just not very fancy.
I hope you all are enjoying the season as much as I am.