I like it better as a verb, though. Getting something started, lighting a fire. Which is why it was chosen as a name for an electronic book. I have no plans to own one, preferring the old fashioned feel of paper, turning pages, using random objects for bookmarks, losing my place, misplacing the book and finding it under a chair after the Christmas tree is taken down, that sort of thing. Amazon is responsible for the Kindle, my husband tells me. He has just formatted an electronic version of my book, “For Glory”, so that it is Kindle-ready, should someone with a brandspankin new Kindle want something to put on it, possibly to read. He was also busy creating an ordinary ebook, for the equally rare person who might wish to read it in that format. Go, Rare People! I applaud you! You spark my imagination. I would have said kindle, but that would have been way too over the top, one of those things we are free to think but really shouldn’t put down on the page. Or blog. I am equally inspired by the random, rare, possibly imaginary blog reader, as well. Go, you. The one feature of the Kindle that makes me think that I’ll probably ending up using one one day is the adjustable font. You can make the print really large. Large enough that if I misplace my reading glasses, it wouldn’t cut into my reading time. The resulting page reminds me of a children’s book, the kind with 20 or 30 words per page. Which might be a problem. With the words isolated like that, I tend to get distracted from the plot and start playing with words. Which would be OK on another level because it would mean I could still think about words and not be lost in dementia. Thinking of one’s writing as kindling is kind of sad, though. Or frightening. It was the word dementia that got me here, intimations of a lost self before death. No dementia in “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” did you notice that? Everyone keeps their marbles right up to the moment of peacefully closed eyes at the end. Very soothing. So, let me know if you have tried a Kindle. We’ll chat about death another time. Happy New Year.
kindle is a noun these days
Written by elisabeth on January 5th, 2009
hmmm…
Written by elisabeth on December 21st, 2008So. Yesterday my husband asked me about facials. “Um, what happens, what’s it like,” he asked unsuspectingly. Hm. We’re not really allowed to provide that information. I mean, who would believe that someone would submit themselves to that? Apart from the EXTREME moisturizing (the good part), there’s other stuff involving hot wax and steam and tweezers moving at high speed. My aestetician, Annemarie, is Rumanian. Very good. Much calmer since Obama won the election. It was pretty iffy there for a while, not calming the way these visit are supposed to be. I was pretty tense for the duration. Never mind. It’s all good. Her friends in Rumania no longer think we’re a nation of narcissistic, deluded psychopaths. In spite of the world recession, they’re feeling much calmer, too. They’ve put their guns back in the bedside table. S.(plural) When Annemarie smiles, I smile. And I have more eyebrow, as well. Um, if you know who I’m talking about, no more chocolate, please. Annemarie is over the top with chocolate this year, thanks. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Women of “a certain age” have to have facials. It’s not funny. I know you’re out there. so I shall say no more. Bottom line = with facials, life is elastic; one can smile and look cautiously optimistic, as after an especially rewarding yoga session. Without facials? Don’t go there. Don’t open the door. If they run out of moisturizer, I’m going for blood.
slow blogging
Written by elisabeth on November 23rd, 2008Yup. That’s my explanation for why I haven’t written anything since September. I didn’t know what it was until I read about it in the New York Times this morning. I thought I was overworked, exhausted, anxious, bummed about the economy, and/or working on my second book. Nope. I am delighted to learn that I am part of a philosophical movement of blogs that encourages people to slow down and do stuff like think. You betcha. There’s this one woman who lives in Vermont and takes her computer out into nature where she can record what snow looks like after deer have slept in it. That sounds so cool. No scraping frozen drizzle off the windshield for her! Slow blogging makes me feel like less of a flake. Maybe it’s OK that time passes, that an earring can gets lost when you’re outside doing lunch duty at school, that your teeth become sensitive because you’ve been clenching your teeth at night. Maybe that’s all OK. Just slow down and when you blog, blog deeply. Yeah. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
crikey
Written by elisabeth on September 28th, 2008Spent the better part of the week up in Estes Park, trekking through the National Forest, admiring the turning of aspen leaves, listening to the bugling of elk, and gazing on a sky full of stars. The hard part was doing it all with 21 kids, my gifted students, who love a life lived loud. I mean, they’re fine kids, full of curiosity and in love with Nature, but I did feel outnumbered. There were three other adults with me, 2 young women whose combined ages are still 12 years short of mine. And Ryan, the experiential instructor who MIGHT be 30. Who spends all his free time climbing challenging rock faces. He would look at me with compassionate curiosity whenever I’d stop along the trail and gasp for air. Or wince and whimper about my knees. He was patient and kind.