Two spaces left!

Hi!

There are two spots left in a writing workshop that I'm teaching this winter.  I think this will be the most fun class yet!  (I'm not just saying that.)

Freewriting for Fun

This series of workshops will be a fun way to ignite your creative spark and generate new material.  

 We’ll spend 6 weeks mining our lives for material, and writing in a supportive, creative environment.   No writing experience is needed, but experienced writers are welcome. You’ll leave each week with new work, and begin to refine one piece into something you're really proud of.

If it’s not already a habit, it’s nearly impossible to find space in our days to sit down and write.  If you do carve out even a modest chunk of time, there are so many things that can derail it:  What should I write about?  Why bother? Shouldn’t I be doing something more productive with my time?  I’m not a very good writer.  What would I do with it if I did write something?  Oh, I hope no one ever reads this.  And at the very same time, I wish someone would read this, because then they'd know me. We’ll address all of that and more.

Dates and time:  Sunday afternoons,  4 – 6 p.m, January 5, 12, 19, 26, February 2, 9  A seventh session to showcase your work, at a time tbd.

Location:  Yoga Garden, Duvall, WA

Cost:  $80

Contact me here to sign up. 

Horoscopes: the "sperm carry memories" with breaking news about a rock

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):   I've been pretty distracted since I read this story about sperm carrying memories to offspring.  How cool is that?  Epigenetics!  The sperm is actually altered somehow by environmental factors, and creates behaviors not just in the direct offspring, but the grandchildren.  Anyway, I haven't gotten much done since I learned that.  Which of my actions are based on my grandfather's experiences?  (He actually lived a Gatsby-ish existence, so maybe that explains a few things.  Like my distaste for white shoes after labor day.)  Aries, be sure that any memories you pass on aren't too damaging.  Create good ones this week!

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  The other thing I can't stop thinking about is Bertha.  What's blocking her?  In case you're unaware, they are digging a wide and deep tunnel in Seattle, perhaps the largest one in the solar system or possibly the Milky Way.  It will be a mile and a half long, and 60 feet under loose sand and gravel in an earthquake-prone region or something sketchy like that.  Bertha, which looks like something from a Roald Dahl book, is the digging machine.  But she's been stopped by a large object!  Could it be a rock?  Now wouldn't that be surprising.  A rock!  Underground like that!  Have you heard of anything like it?  Your week, Taurus, will be full of strange miracles and events.  Be awestruck.

BREAKING NEWS!!  Beth and Clare were out walking last week and found a rock!!  Unlike Bertha, this did not stop them.  WE'LL REPORT ON THIS AS THE SITUATION UNFOLDS.


Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  In other news, there's a large plastic bag on 320th Street.  It's been there for a few days, and I keep meaning to stop and investigate, but I'm always in a hurry because it's on the west side of the road, so I see it on my way somewhere else.  What could be in the bag?  A body?  Trash?  A time travelling machine?  Should I stop?  Should I call someone?  Please advise, Gemini.  I'll wait til I hear from you. 

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):   I was talking to JJ and The Traveller yesterday, and they were going on about all of the holiday parties they'd been to.  "This is my holiday party," I commented.  "And it's a gift exchange!  What did you bring?"
The traveller rummaged in her purse and fished out a half-eaten Luna bar and a poem that she wrote.  JJ gave me a cup of coffee.  It was all I had dreamed of and more.  (The poem was the more, even though the traveller didn't really read it, she just waved it about for a minute before refolding it and putting it back in her purse. But still.)  Cancer, enjoy the possibility of the season, even if it never materializes.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I had the occasion to spend time with this shadowy figure recently, and I'm feeling a little old and sappy, but I've been lucky to have her as a friend for more than 30 years.  The first time we spoke was in college in NY, and it went like this:
Her:   I was thinking you could have me over for dinner and then help me with my physics homework.
Me:  Um, ok.
Her:  I like lasagna, so it would be good if you wanted to make that.
Leo, say "um, ok" as much as possible because it can lead to great things.

MORE ON THAT ROCK:  THEY THINK IT MAY BE AN ARTIFACT FROM THE SNOQUALMIE TRIBE, BECAUSE IT HAS A STRANGE PATTERN ETCHED ON IT.   (And, in a more conspiratorial tone, the pattern on the rock matches the new hat pattern that was created for the yarn store.  Coincidence?  Sheesh.)

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  I was at dinner with a friend the other night and, unbeknownst to us, the lady from the P.O. bought our meal and drinks.  We don't know why, but it was a lovely thing and I would like to recommend more of that.  OH, no, that's not what I meant, that we should all buy the meals for me. (But I won't argue if you insist.  I'm gracious that way.)  But I think we should all do that.  Just go buy some random person dinner.  

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):   I was talking to one of the historical society ladies recently, and she told me that they did a scan of the Pioneer cemetary, and although there are ony a few headstones remaining, there are about 40 bodies underground.  Yikes!  Do you think Jimmy Hoffa's in there?  I asked her what kind of technology they used to scan for underground bodies, and she said, "well, you have to hire someone to do it.  We didn't do it ourself.  We hired someone."  Um, okay then.  Any questions?

ABOUT THAT ROCK?  IT WAS FOUND IT FAR DOWNSTREAM FROM WHAT R. CALLS, "TWO JOINTS POINT".  (AS THE MOTHER, I DON'T WONDER AT ALL WHY IT'S CALLED THAT.  NO I DONT.)  BUT I DIGRESS FROM THE UNFOLDING STORY ABOUT THE ROCK.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  I know, you're wondering why all this fuss about the rock.  I'm trying to promote Radio Duvall, because that's the kind of news that could be covered if we had a radio station.  Stuff you won't get anywhere else.  If you believe in REAL journalism, and opportunities for any unemployed whacko to get hold of a microphone and spout off, donate now!  Your horoscope?  It's going to be a great week!  The full moon is especially good for you, Scorp.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  I re-listened to one of my favorite old podcasts, the Radio Lab episode, Desperately seeking symmetry, which has so many fascinating things I can't even begin to recount them; just listen.  BUT, I will say it caused me to read about Hair Part Theory, which I may put to use in my own life.  If I change my part, I think everything will work out.  Is it too late, though?  The last thing I want to do is look like a Try Hard.  (I'd like to have the success of a Try Hard without the appearance of one.  Oops, I guess I didn't need to say that.)  Back to you Sag.  It's always good to have you around.  Blessings for you in your birthday season.

THIS JUST IN:  THEY BROUGHT THE ROCK TO THE PRETTY YARN STORE, AND BUILT A LITTLE NEST FOR IT OUT OF WOOL, WHERE IT REMAINS ON DISPLAY.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  If I were to recommend a building, I think it would be the Smith Tower, because it's so charming.  But that's not what you need, a building recommendation.  What you need is a walk. Or a podcast.  How about 99 Percent Invisible?  Do you listen to that?

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):   I'd like to recommend this book, Aquarius.  It's funny and quick and deals with something I know you'll understand:  the quirky obsessive quality that I love so well about you Aquarians.  Briefly, it's about a woman who stalks her cat.  I've never had a cat, but if I did I'd so be at that spy store buying research equipment.

MORE ON THE ROCK:  SOMEONE AT THE STORE KNOWS SOMEONE WHO KNOWS ABOUT ARTIFACTS.  THEY'RE GOING TO ASK HIM/HER ABOUT THE ROCK.  I WILL REPORT ON THIS MINUTE BY MINUTE IF NEEDED.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  C. asked me the other day if I have plans for New Year's Day dinner yet. "Um, no.  But I was hoping I'd still be at your house from last year."
"At dinner?  You'll still be there?"
"Um, sure!  Actually, it turns out I'm pretty much free until January 25, so I could just stay..."  C. looked a tiny bit alarmed but was gracious anyway, and that's what it's all about, Pisces.  Being gracious anyways.  

Spitting Image

Hello Betsy,

Thank you for contacting the 23andMe Team. Unfortunately, we do not have any ideas for a spit party. However, if you come up with a creative idea for a spit party please let us know!

Please feel free to contact us if you have further questions.

Best Regards,

Eric
The 23andMe Team

---

Betsyjm, Nov 30 08:03 PM (PST):

Hi,
I was wondering if you have any fun party game ideas for a spit party. My group has ordered about 20 kits, and we'll be spitting together in January. Have you any fun ideas? (I'm not sure if you'd call me an existing customer or not. We just ordered our kits. Yay.)  Did I need parenthesis there?
Thanks,
Betsy

Far out! What a day, a year, a life it is...

So, being that it's that season, the one where we hang out with a glass of wine in one hand and a tiny amount of insubstantial food on a napkin in the other, I have a question.  As we know, we are ALL on a big kick to be interesting, right?  We're all in?  I have a question that I'll get to shortly.

We all have these amazing stories unfold at night, and they're awesome, but I'm not sure if we should tell others about them.  Here's how it goes for me:  I start telling someone, and midway through I realize there's no good way to wrap it up, and they're bored to tears because duh, there is no plot.  They all end the exact same way.  ("And then I woke up.")

"So, I was taking my walrus out for a walk because Target didn't have the gps unit we needed, and anyway, we wanted to go see the eagle web cam.  I guess it wasn't a regular web cam, because we had to climb up this giant tower in the lake to see it.  Anyway, I digress.  The point is, just when we got up there, his feathers started coming in.  Which was really cool, because it meant he could go to school.  Well maybe it wasn't school, but some kind of walrus slash chicken thing."

At this point, if I stop to notice, the people I'm talking to have fake smiles plastered on their mouths, but they're making eye contact with each other, looking alarmed, like, "Should we call someone?"

"The feathers reminded me that the library books were overdue, but the book return was 68 floors under NYC, and there was no elevator, just this sketchy set of ladders and stairs, and it was kind of creepy..."

Anyway.  I've just been wondering why we feel so compelled to tell our dreams, because they're never any fun for the listener.  For me, I think it's this:  I spend most of my waking hours longing for stories, seeking them out, wishing someone would tell me one, subscribing to new podcasts, and pretty much veering off any little track I might have been on if there's even the hint of a story elsewhere - eavesdropping, following people to their homes, etc.  Oh wait, no I don't do that!  That would be so creepy!  But after a day spent as a mildly unsuccessful story hunter, I fall asleep, and it's one amazing story after the next.   (This might explain all the naps, people.  Either that or I'm just lazy.)

So, the question:  is it ever okay to tell your dreams, or is it 100% annoying and boring?  I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.   And while we're on the subject, check this out.  I want one.

I think I should also recommend a podcast, since there wasn't a story here.  How about KCRW's Unfictional.  Radio excellence!

PSA About Twitter

I asked a friend the other day -- "What exactly is twitter?"  I know.  Shouldn't I know that by now?   It's gotten way too late to ask about it.

Like, "Um, could someone fill me in -- what's the internet again?  Oh, that's right!  I totally knew that.  I just forgot for a second.  No, seriously!  I did so know what the internet is!  My mom even took us there on vacation once back before it got popular with the tourists.  In fact, I knew about the internet before they even had the net part, you were just out there loose."

Things I already knew about Twitter:

• There's a 140 character limit, which seems both cool and confining.  In fact, I sometimes wish we had that in conversations.  As in, "Ooops!  You're all out of characters. No more route talk for you!"
• You follow people but it's not considered creepy
• When you follow someone it seems like they're following you, because the follow-ees deliver themselves up to the follow-ers at random times.  (Who's stalking who?)
•  Umm.  I guess that's it.  I had hoped this would be a longer list.

Things I didn't know: 

•  If you follow someone, and they tweet, how does it arrive?  As a singing telegram? A knock at the door?  (Or, if you have one, a ring of the doorbell? Do people still have doorbells?  Oh wait, is that just me again, with no doorbell?)  E-mail?  Text?  It couldn't be any of those, I thought (not for the obvious reason, which is that it would be weird if when I'm stalking someone, they knock at my door and sing out their 140 character message.  No, that's not why it couldn't be one of those.  It's because there's a whole new verb, "twitter".  (That name itself is where I started to picture the handsome shirtless guy dropping by with the messages.)  If there's a new verb, there must be a new actual thing, right?
• Why?   (On all of it.  140 characters, the confusing relationship between the follower and the followee, the name, etc.)

What I learned:

You download an ap and the tweets arrive on your phone as words on the screen.  Hmm, that sounds vaguely familiar.  Have you guys heard of "texting"?  Yeah, completely different.  Requires a brand new verb.  We know the word "running."  But we'd need a whole different word for running in seersucker pants with scissors, of course.  Don't try that (seersucker at this time of year).  It's bad manners.

 We're going to run out of verbs at this rate, people.  We'll come to a point, the planet's getting warmer, we're getting older, the turkey leftovers need to be tossed, the dark times are upon us, and suddenly, when we least expect it, something brand new, a brand new way of locomotion will arise, and there won't be any words left.  We'll go to the verb cupboard, totally empty.