Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

Yeah, okay, I really don't rant much. I don't. But I've gotta tell you I'm hacked at Dancing with the Stars ABC show, now down to the "finals", thank God. Yes, I know these reality shows are cast and scripted like any soap opera, but jeeeeeez, this one really got to me last night.

This rant started building weeks ago with the judges. Hijola, where do they get those people? The Brit geezer comes across as a senior citizens' dance teacher in Manchester. I, who have a pretty good ear for accents, thought the Italian guy was French and that explained him. But it's the twit on the end, Carrion Enabler or something, that really makes me get up out of my pram. I saw a bit on the TV Guide channel on the reality shows that more than suggested Carrion had some choreography but no actual dance experience, ballroom or otherwise, except for good time on a pole in whatever club. Fits and explains a lot.

My favorite "star", also whom I'd never heard of, is wrestler Stacy of the long, long legs. That girl has had dance training prior to her wrestling gig and has translated her skills to the ballroom dancing competition very effectively. She's the best dancer, no question. However, Carrion, who isn't the best anything, has decided that Stacy needs to "take chances" in her dancing, while the ex-football star, Jerry, is awarded scores that do not reflect the stiff lumbering about the floor while his professional dance/aerobatics, yes aerobatics, partner does great work. Makes one long for P. Miller. At least he had no illusions that he could dance. Jerry's a nice guy and America thinks so, too, but he's not a dancer and shouldn't be awarded a higher score for a kitschy Shaftesque freestyle while Stacy gets whacked for a flawless disco number that wasn't "chancy" enough.

And Drew? Yeah, he's a hardworking little guy who can get the job done when he keeps his frame and his shoulders down. He's fun to watch and his professional partner is great. He's the best male dancer to come along in this Dancing Stars thing.

But back to Stacy. It wasn't lost on me that she and her partner were missing from the backstage shot at the end of last night's show. If she was half as pissed as I was, even though I know it's a set piece designed to manipulate and herd the audience in a particular direction, Stacy's got to be plotting Carrion's painful demise. Maybe Carrion will catch a folding chair in the head, or get body slammed to Cleveland. Perhaps that'd be chancy enough for her.

So, really, the writers have done a superb job, haven't they. They've got this writer all riled up with a reality show that is as much fiction as anything I write. I hate to admit that I actually voted for Stacy last night--as many times as the system would let me.

Well done, guys. You got me.

Ciao, ciao, MMMMMMMMMMMMMMmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

A writer creates characters that hopefully become as real to the readers as they are to the writer. You want the reader to fall in love with the hero as the heroine of the story does, and as you have as you created him. I love the hero of my The Eternal Trust trilogy, Michael Gabrielli. He's a 747 captain, former officer of SEALs, a former psychic spy and adept remote viewer. He collects ancient weapons and has been searching for the legendary Tsuji samurai sword (Sword of Balance) that bestows vast power upon the wielder. Michael finds the sword and his soulmate lover from many lifetimes and instead of happily ever after, the terror escalates. The tag line from the book is "The love of a soul mate may be the death of you, again and again." And so it has been for poor Michael Gabrielli and Dorel Everly as they struggle against an Eternal Trust that has locked them in a battle for love and life over eons.

Imagine my surprise when I heard from the "real" Michael Gabrielli last week. He didn't just materialize on this plane nor project his astral body, as he can do, into my office. Michael Gabrielli sent me an email from Corning, New York where he lives and works. I wondered how he'd heard that a character in my books, which he said he hadn't read yet but looked forward to doing, shares his name until I Googled it. And what should come up? Right, my Michael Gabrielli in blurbs, book stores, reviews and other web mentions.

Isn't that interesting that these days you can create a fictional character, give him a name and he can become a multi-page listing on an internet search just like a real famous person? In a way, it makes him as real as any other "name" you'd search, doesn't it. Who'd have thunk it?

Ciao, ciao, MMMMMMMMMMelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

You know how it is. Despite whatever personal ugh you're doing at a given time, the show must go on. You've got to do your job, but sometimes you just can't make it, you know? Case in point, the Airedale. The DH dragged his flu or whatever-ughed self out of bed to get ready for work today, went downstairs to make coffee and found the Airedale just hadn't made it outside. She may have tried to tell us she had to go but we were both too tried, ughish and asleep to hear her. So the DH had to get out his trusty rug shampooer at 5:30 a.m.--AFTER he woke me to share that the dog had an accident????

Whatever this particular ugh is, it descended upon me on Thursday night and sure cancelled my weekend. And soon the DH joined me in misery. Now, nothing makes us feel better than homemade chicken soup, or at least we think so, though neither of us had that healing tradition in our childhood. My mother's heal-all-ills remedy was ice cream on the inside and Listerene for pimples, scrapes, or whatever owie we had as kids. As to chicken soup, my family ate Campbell's chicken noodle and I didn't know there was another kind as we didn't do much homemade at the Rucker house. It wasn't until the DH took wifey and son to England that I learned a great deal about cooking homemade--the Robert Carrier way from a lovely American ex-pat who taught history, I believe, at the American University in London. She also taught small gourmet cooking classes out of her beautiful home in Beaconsfield, Bucks. It is from Nance Kitner that I learned to make my own homemade chicken stock as well as many other tasty and beautiful dishes that I cook every other third leap year.

When we returned to the U.S., I continued creating my own healing chicken soup and after we got the first Airedale, I shared the "parted out" stewed stuff with her. Not a very wise move as I made a good girl go bad and addicted the dog to chicken in any form. But that could be a genetic predisposition in Airedale terriers as the current Airedale is mad for chicken, too. We can't deny her and give into her loud and slobbery demands for chicken parts even though it upsets her system and our lives terribly.

This morning after the DH finished cleaning the carpet and talking about the dog living in the garage, we again came to the conclusion that we must not give the Airedale chicken or anything else but her own dog food. Yeah, that will last a few days until the next time we need healing chicken soup and then there will be hell to pay on many different levels.

And so goes celebrating Presidents' Day our way . . .

Ciao, ciao, MMMMMMMmelinda on the mend, just

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

Coming soon is a full MMMLog entry. Since last night I'm way under the weather and headed back to bed to feel sorry for myself.

Ugh.

mmmmmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

A series of little problems had been nibbling at my attention and I'd done all I could to handle them, which left me in that waiting place for the exterior world to come into alignment with my desired/projected outcomes. It's the ole patience thing--my continuing lesson and opportunity. Stimulating and sometimes very eeeeeeeek.

In any case, when I awoke on the morning of the 14th, I determinedly created my day. I asked that I be receptive enough be aware of any "good" surprises and opportunities, that I experience love and laughter with the DH and other "little" added untos that would make for my perfect Valentine's Day.

I reached out to friends and family with Valentine's greetings and got much happiness back. I love the way that works! As the day took shape all sorts of things began to resolve themselves--the book on back order arrived. A lost DVD found its way to Netflicks. My client had a creative breakthrough. My new project fairly sang out of me in the focused time I had to work on it. I had a great commiserating/encouraging session with a dear critique partner.

The DH arrived home with surprises (we'd agreed no gifts, please) a beautiful card (he's a bit of a traditionalist) a bag of blue corn tortilla chips, fresh asparagus and two Cadbury eggs or bock-bocks, as my sister calls them. On Sunday we'd picked out a bouquet of beautiful blush pink tulips to enjoy over the week and planned to cook a special Valentine's dinner together at home--shrimp brochettes and chocolate dipped strawberries for dessert. We discovered the frozen shrimp were minnow size, so opted for huge shrimp cocktails with our asparagus. I made an olive topanade that was salty, because I thought tipping a bit of the juice into the mix might be good. Some creative ideas work a bit better than others :>)) But the topanade (maybe I can't spell or make it) was edible on top of a dollop of sour cream on a blue corn tortilla--but then, what isn't? We ended our perfect romantic dinner by dipping strawberries in warm chocolate as we watched that old black and white movie, The Thin Man, the first in the Nick and Nora Charles mystery series.

Some would say that was one pretty darned strange Valentine's Day, but I say it was my creation that worked out in it's own special way for my greater learning and enjoyment and the DH says, "Me too!"

Ciao, ciao, Mmmmmmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

Valentine's Day. Actually, this day is not very different from any other day that you might create. Though the marketers and purveyors of diamonds, chocolate, fine dining and flowers have "front loaded" certain expectations about how this day should go for us. Have you seen the commercials? There's one that plays here from KMart, I think. It's a restaurant scene and couples are dining. One fellow gives his date a velvet box and she exclaims, "Oh, diamonds!" The guy at the next table throws in the towel (napkin) and echoes "Diamonds!" He leaves in disgust because he didn't come up with THE expected gift and has disappointed his date. What a loser! We're to think about this guy, because after all, he KNOWS he's failed to perform, failed to bestow a KMart diamond on his true love.

Other commercials and cards constantly hammer away at images that become embedded within us and become our expectation of what the day should be for us. It's a completely created "story", a fiction, if you will, by others who expect to gain from our desiring their products. It has little to do with love or caring, but the archetypical images that are used to sell us connect directly with our subconscious and move us with emotionalism in the direction the sellers want us to go.

I even got an Valentine e-card from my domain host. Red satin, romantic music, candles, champagne, etc. All romantic, traditional Valentine's Day images from a giant internet company. Why would they send me a romantic valentine? Because they know that deep in my subconscious I "get" those images. They're betting that the images in my subconscious are connected with good feelings. So I consciously process the message (images) and suddenly feel a little more kindly or open to the company sending me the message, though there seems to be no apparent "romantic" connection between us. This company is hoping to influence me, create my day, as it were.

I sent an e-card to friends today that has none of the traditional Valentine's Day images, but jungle images that are sensual, sultry and interesting. And it's created right before your eyes, drawing you in, taking you to a different place, shifting your perspective. The message urges you to enjoy a day of your own (conscious) creating, rather than let someone else create your day their way.

There is a documentary film that was recommended to me by students and clients, What the Bleep Do We Know? (www.whatthebleep.com) I watch the film often and learn something new each time about the blending of science and spirituality that is quantum physics. One interview is most interesting and you might enjoy going to www.whatthebleep.com and clicking on the interview I Create My Day (Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)

Tomorrow I'll let you know how the DH and I created our V-Day our way.

Ciao, ciao, mmmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

I called my brother this morning to sing happy birthday as is our family's habit. Ever the critic, he first said my rendition was like Marilyn Monroe's breathy, Happy Birthday Mr. President. So I pumped it up a bit and he decided that it was pretty pleasant. I caught him waiting with the wildland firefighters in Duncan, Oklahoma to be called out to fight a fire as they have for the past month. He flies lead air attack (leads the aerial firefighting tankers to the fire site) on the grass wild fires that part of the country is suffering.

My brother has been a great source of content for my novels. We've had some excellent, if scary, adventures together over the years and have survived them pretty nicely. If it's about flying, Colorado rapids running, fast cars and faster boats, and it's in my book, I've gotten the idea from one of Gary's adventures, which I may or may not have shared with him. He's one of those rare people who decides they are going to learn and do something, and actually gets it done. He jumps in and goes for whatever he wants as if he's on some sort of short turn and possibly out of here any minute, which drives my mother to worry and my dad to shake his head. I'm just amazed at his determination and ability to overcome fear, or whatever would try to hold him back, to achieve his goals. And perhaps the most important thing he has that allows him to do his thing is his wonderful, supportive wife who makes it all happen to a great degree.

One thing about us three Rucker kids, we're all blessed with spouses who probably should be canonized . . .

Happy birthday, Gary. And many, many more, brother of mine.

Ciao, ciao, MMMMMMMMMMmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

I finally succumbed to a free trail period at Netflicks for as many DVDs as I could get in here and back in two weeks. And I'm doing great. Viewing lots of movies I hadn't seen, and there are lots as I really don't enjoy going to the theaters these days. Noisy, crowded, cell phones ringing, crying kids and ads before the previews. And I want to pay ten bucks for that pleasure? I like my cozy family room, my sofa and my twelve year old TV. Yeah, we haven't done the home theater plasma digital thing yet, but we are sort of shopping the idea.

Our Netflicks shipping center is in Tacoma, about twenty or so miles from here. That means they ship and I get the movie the next day. Yesterday was the first time I got a damaged DVD. It was broken and I promptly returned it today. They promise that a replacement will be here tomorrow and I'm sure it will. So, last night we were reduced to watching one DVD, that Eternal Sunshine of A Spotless Mind. Well, gee, not for me. I was so bored or confused that I had to read the jacket to see what the movie was about. Then it was official--I didn't care. Back in the mailer the DVD went. Tomorrow I'll have some good stuff to watch. Oh! We did view Spanglish and we absolutely loved it. What a clever script that was and the acting--wowow, Tia Leone was weird and wonderful. Even Adam Sandler was believable, holding it down to just a little over the top.

I think I'm going to like this all you can view buffet and will continue with a membership. The queue of incoming movies I've built in the last week is stunning and I may never leave the house again. And to think back in 1983 when I bought my first computer, an Osborne I, the world's first "portable," I never dreamed that I'd be able connect with the world via the internet to order just about anything I never thought I'd want without seeing or talking to another human. Wow, that's progress. Isn't it?

Ciao, ciao, mmmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

Though I'm not a football fan I did watch the debacle in Detroit last night. I thought the Hawks would have scored a lot more if the officiating had been at the same game that was being televised. Wow, what a bunch of crappy calls as if those guys in the striped shirts had been on the staff of the Stealers (spelling intended.) Then, of course, the Hawks starting believing that they were as bad as the officials and Stealer fans thought. There was a whole lot of frantic Seahawk passing going on that bordered on the mystical, i.e., "Reach out with your feelings, Luke. There'll be a receiver out there somewhere . . ."

Move along, move along
There were three commercials that not so terribly sophisticated MMMMM really liked--the Bud Light magic refrigerator, the FedEx caveman and the Sprint phone with theft protection. Hooooohaaaa! Good stuff! And now that you know too much about me, let's move on to the half time program. Who doesn't love the Stones? But I kept waiting for the brilliant extravaganza that past Super Bowls have brought. Actually, Mick might have benefited from a wardrobe malfunction . . .perhaps that rolled up sock slipping down the leg of his skinny pants. The final song, "I Can't Get No Satisfaction", was rather ironic if not further commentary on our poor Seahawks' fate in Motor City.

Ciao, ciao, MMMMMMMMMmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

Whenever my writing pals gather here at the house, the Airedale is in heaven. She loves those women who bring her treats and pets and attention.

The Airedale is surprisingly well behaved and almost patient, sitting quietly at one's elbow for the expected treat. If you know Airedales you will understand why the patient description of the breed that sees everything as edible or possible is kind of odd.

Our first Airedale, Glennie, was a true omnivore. I've told you how she ate money in great amounts, preferring the $20 bill. She also swallowed the DH's white handkerchiefs whole and they passed through her system that way, too. Amazing! Once I'd baked a 9x12 glass pan of brownies and left it on the counter to cool. When I returned from picking up the son of Mmmmmmmmm, I walked in the kitchen and it looked like the Manson family had partied there. The glass pan was shattered on the floor, without crumb of brownie and there was blood everywhere. We found the Airedale resting fat and happy on the sofa, ten toes up and full of brownie. She'd apparently cut her tongue on the broken glass but that didn't stop her one bit. She achieved her goal of depriving her family of any sweet treats and giving them a terrific scare. If I've told you this story before, please forgive me. It's apparently stuck to my field with superglue. Gonna have to work on that.

In any case, this Airedale girl who runs the house now isn't so single-minded about food, though she is always hopeful. However, Costco roasted chicken is the one item that can drive her into a frenzy that does not end until every fleshless bone is in the trash can outside. Ah well, it's always something with each of us, isn't it. And I often wish that my "something" was as easily identifiable, not to mention tasty, as Costco roasted chicken.

Ciao, ciao, MMMMMMMMMMMMMMelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

I sent my latest Mmmmelinda's Creative Centre Newsletter out today and quickly found that I'd forgotten to send it Bcc. Eeeeeeek. So when a subscriber hit Reply All to tell me what a good newsletter it was, everyone on the list got it. Eeeeeeeeeee, again. I hates that, precious. And so does they, I'm sure. So I'm making further and public apology to my dear subscribers. I promise to never let that happen again.

Millions
The son of MMMMMM suggested I rent the DVD Millions. It's a British film about two little boys who find a bag full of stolen money. The older boy has no problem with his sudden wealth and proves to be an absolute genius at investing. He wants to buy houses and tries to do so while keeping the money secret from everyone except his little brother who found it. Little brother thinks the money is from God and has been known to entertain "saints" who council with him. Consequently, he's advised to give the money to the poor and goes looking for them. His way of finding the poor is as simple as asking people if they're poor. If they say yes, he gives them money. Since the neighborhood Mormons ride around on bikes and reveal they aren't into material things and therefore "poor", the boy takes a huge chunk of the money and stuffs it into their mail slot one night. They bike right out and buy a digital TV, microwave oven and other goodies. After all, they were praying for "comfort."

Millions is a lovely story, an Anglo magical realism that is inspiring and a pure delight. I was so right there with the older brother, who must have been about 10, wanting to spend that money. The naive six or seven year old little brother remind us that once we too were innocent and believed in doing great things for our fellows.

If you aren't into British film, you might find this one a bit tough to stay with as the accents aren't posh and easy to understand. The storyline seems to meander a bit, but that's magical realism for you. However, the boys deliver marvelous performances that are absolutely believable. And if you'll hang in there for the ride, you'll be very glad that you did.

Ciao, ciao, MMMmmmmmelinda