On a limb with Claudia

I have been painting the porch of our hundred year old Craftsman Victorian for the last week. After spending two days sanding, sweating and chipping away, I now only work in the cool of the morning.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

• My new neighbor next door doesn’t walk his one night stands girlfriends to the door in the morning.
• Never purchase a green without talking to a color consultant. These are words to live by since the beautiful pine green turned into fluorescent lime green on the porch steps. Every single neighbor stopped by, shook their head, and wandered on. The boys(they are twenty years old) next door said it wasn’t too bad, but they were just being nice.
• A heat gun will remove the paint right down to the wood. So says one neighbor two days after I sanded the porch. Grrr.
• Bees seem to like the smell of paint. I rescued more than one field bee from the wet paint. Maybe that’s what’s causing CCD.
• My hair looks better without white Kilz primer in it. Who knew?
• Sound blocker head phones don’t block out the sound of:

• Motorcycles
• People having sex
• Drunken people talking to each other
• Belt sander
• Bands playing in the nearby park

I just thought I would share.

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A bunch of people have asked about my novels and stories.

I have recently finished the second in a series of novels about a woman who works for Military Intelligence here in Colorado.  They are thriller/intrigue/suspense-ish with a dash of relationship drama.  I am hoping to sell the two books at the same time and have them published within six months of each other.

Writing, editing, loving, reviewing a novel is one thing, actually getting it out there is another.  If you’d like to review a copy of book two (book one is in the middle of a re-write for pacing), email me at: opengrove@gmail.com or just leave it in a comment.  Our research, and feedback from various contests and critiques, says that women over the age of thirty will be interested in these books.  But who knows?  I appreciate any feedback and the gift of time.
In the meantime,  I’ve been working on some short stories to help improve the quality of my writing.  Recently, I’ve been writing short stories to song lyrics.  I posted one such story yesterday and will work this week to get some of the others up on the internet.  If you’d like to check it out, click here.

As always, thank you for participating in the conversation.

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“So you’re one of those people,” my friend A. said.

“What people?”

“The kind of person someone calls when they need some thing. I only call you when I need some thing,” he said.

“I’ve noticed. You don’t even buy me lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, most people invite me to lunch then spill all their needs and problems.  I give you credit for being more honest.”

We are walking along South Platte bike path in the hundred degree heat.

“You’re getting your exercise,” he said.

“I’ve noticed.”

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Here’s the short list of why I work out:
1. It keeps the pain monster at bay. Two herniated discs in my neck? I think that says it all.

2.
+ Dancing all night = Core Strength. (Yes, that’s right. I wear these 3 1/2 inch heels.)

3. The dream of a four pack turning into a six pack. We can dream.

4. Beekeeping. A full hive deep weighs at least 65 pounds. A “super” filled with honey for eating weights about 40 pounds. The rock only weighs about a half a pound.

6. I shop at Costco where they pack those boxes absolutely full. Lifting weights allows me to actually take the groceries from the cart and put them in the truck. I don’t have any idea what the flabby do.

7. My best friend, B., and I worked out at university so we have all these “inside” jokes.

Here’s one. You know the guys who grunt and moan while they are working out. Grunt, slam, strut. We used to call those Betty’s as in Betty Weider working out with her husband .

8. I am physically able to ski, backpack, walk, run, move boxes, work on the house, pick up my nieces and nephew, and play.

9. People don’t tend to hassle a girl with 16 inch biceps. Would you?

10. I like being firm.

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Along with a billion of my closest friends, I pre-ordered this book and it arrived Saturday. I like it. It has interesting characters and great relationships. Sure, some of it was cheesy but oh well. If I want great literature, I can go back to Google Books.

Papa Roach – Forever (pre-release)

Sadly I will miss their show here in Denver. But I like this song. And the video is so cute with them kissing between their lip piercings. Ok, that’s kind of retarded.

Stuck in my head:

Superman’s Song (You Tube)

by the Crash Test Dummies

On our way to Colorado, we arrived on the scene of a horrible auto accident where a green Saturn spun out of control in a freak thunderstorm. The passenger seat, and it’s passenger, were ripped out of the vehicle. In the pelting rain, I sat next to the passenger, with my hand on her shoulder, while she died. We listened to this album (Ghosts that Haunt Me) all the rest of the way to Denver. I think this song on my head because of the trademark crapola in the Open Grove.

Watching:

Slither

It’s embarrassing, but the last movie I watched was Slither. We watched all of Firefly (which is quite good) and Serenity. The captain of Serenity is in Slither. I shake my head at my own ridiculousness. Let’s hope the Red Head gives back our Shaun of the Dead DVD soon. For fuck’s sake, we need some quality zombie action!

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Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of my father’s death.

I’ve been staring at that sentence for about five minutes. I am brimming with words and emotions about the sentence. And the man.

I want to write that he was a good man, but I’m not all that sure.

He tried. That’s probably a more accurate statement.

He tried to love my mother. He tried to support her but no amount of money, love, caring or kindness could fill the broken cauldron that substituted for her heart. Until she tossed him away, he tried to be her safe place in the storm.

Extremely shy, he tried to interact with his vocal, stubborn daughters. He tried to engage. He tried to share his interests in music, theater, ballet, and art. When the time came, he tried to interact with his daughter’s husbands.

He tried to give. He tried to be kind. He tried to love. But he had no idea what it meant to be giving, loving or simply kind.

But he tried.

He tried to break me – break me with his fists, his rules, his deadlines, and his cruel words. He tried to destroy my wild nature with recrimination. He tried to indue me with his terror of the world.

In the end, he relied on my indestructible wild nature to do what had to be done and send him on.

All these years later?

I still miss him.

If he was sitting here, he would say, “You seem weepy today.”

I would nod knowing that there was no way for him to understand how I felt or what it meant.

“It’s the way of things,” he’d continue trying to use logic to explain the emotional. “The old die so the young can live.”

I’d nod again. “But I miss you.”

“I know,” he’d say.

And we would sit in silence for a while.

Where ever you are today, if you have a moment, could you just sit for a moment in silence with me and my Dad? I’d appreciate it.

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I was on my back squeezing out another set of sit ups (forty twisted crunches for those of you keeping track) this morning, when I thought, “Damn I spend a lot of time on my back.”

I’m not saying that I’m like my friend Model Girl.  She says that everything she’s achieved in life has happened because she’s good on her back.  I can’t really comment on that, having never witnessed her abilities in this department.  I think we have to take her at her word.

It just seems that between the near bajillion sit ups, crunches, twisting crunches, “core” (the new buzz term for sit ups) work outs and sleeping, I’ve spent a lot of quality time laying on my back.

The ceiling at this gym is a kind of brownish orange color.  I used to work out a place where the ceiling was blue.  Gold’s Gym, Venice Beach?  Duh, burntish gold.  World Gym, Venice Beach?  Black.  The ceiling of the gym at my university?   Black.  First gym?  White.  High School?  Cinder block.

Scary isn’t it.  I actually remember that crap.

I cannot remember the name of the guy who kissed me under the mistletoe in junior high school, my first kiss, but I remember the ceilings of all the gyms I’ve worked out in.

I wonder what that says about me.

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Reading:

The Life and Opinions of Tristam Shandy

(What is this?)

Rocker Girl told me about the New York Times Book Reading Group, which after some trouble, I found here. My best friend B. told me that Google was creating an electronic library by scanning book whose licenses have expired. Combine the two and I downloaded this book (you can too!) on .pdf and have been reading it. It’s actually quite good.

Watching:

Danny Deckchair

A guy ties helium balloons to his deckchair and flies away from his messed up life. It sounds really stupid. In fact, it arrived from Netflix and we didn’t watch it for over a week. In desperation, and hundred degree heat, we gave it a try and  liked it. It’s funny, charming, and smart. Plus the guy is gorgeous (not at first but later) and it has Miranda Otto. Check it out.

Listening to:

Smashing Pumpkins
Zeitgeist
(Tarantula on YouTube)

Zeitgeist is an interesting word for an interesting time in the world.  The album’s also good.

Stuck on my mind:

Self Esteem (YouTube)
by Offspring

“I maybe dumb but I’m not a dweeb”  Dare I say more?

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Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale
A tale of a fateful trip

Around 2001, I took the tiny ship “Open Grove” and rode to the Trademark office. We weren’t a non-profit then, so I paid a lawyer nine hundred dollars to research the Open Grove. Nine hundred dollars. And he came up with nothing. Nothing was even close to the Open Grove. (There’s a wiccan group in Wisconsin that uses the name but who cares? Right?)

Not thinking anything of it, I filed with the Trademark office and promptly went on with my business.

About a month later, I received a letter stating that my application was behind five other applications for the same mark. They would let me know when or if my application came up for review.

Being me, I thought, “that’s weird”. Colorado Lawyer’s for the Arts provided me with a trademark lawyer, as we were now a non-profit corporation, who said, “That’s weird. I’ll call you when I know something.”

I went on about my business. I never thought a single thing about it. Not one thought until…

The weather started getting rough,
The tiny ship was tossed,

Almost five years later, I received a telephone call from our trademark attorney saying that the trademark office deleted four applications and denied ours.

“WHAT?”

“The review believes it’s too close to another application.”

“What application?”

“It was filed three minutes before your application was filed.”

“WHAT?”

And for the last year, we’ve been fighting with the other group (in another country no less) to share the United States Trademark. SHARE! That’s all. We want to share it. You know, like children do in kindergarten.

They would allow us to share it as long as we don’t do any of the things we have done – write newsletters, create audio content, book reviews, and on and on. Word for word, they crossed out every single thing we’ve done.

Why? Because they could.

What could we do? I wanted to drowned myself in the nearest toilet. Instead we stopped creating content and waited.

If not for the courage of the fearless crew
The Open Grove would be lost…the Open Grove would be lost.

I heard today that we are going to resolve this issue. Our fearless lawyer had been going toe to toe with this other group in another country’s lawyer.

What does it mean? I don’t know.

Maybe we can finally get off the Trademark island. Wish me luck.

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I went looking for the New York Times Readers Club and found this (Film Lover’s will Love it – You Tube) instead. (Here’s the article.)
What do you think the universe is trying to tell me?

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