Had a d'oh! moment
I'm almost always at work during down time when I check my Gmail, which is where I get notifications of comments on my blog here. I thought it was strange that there was no way to reply directly to each and every comment I got -- just the general reply button to the post, all the way at the bottom.
Then, yesterday, I checked my blog here at home ... and there were the individual reply buttons. It seems nobody who commented on my blog here saw my replies to them, unless they happened to come back and check all the replies on the post, including mine. I must have seemed like an awfully stuck-up person, never acknowledging the people who took the time to say something. Why the reply buttons aren't showing up at work, I don't know -- the computers there can be a little touchy in what they let through.
*sigh* Now I need to go back ....
Then, yesterday, I checked my blog here at home ... and there were the individual reply buttons. It seems nobody who commented on my blog here saw my replies to them, unless they happened to come back and check all the replies on the post, including mine. I must have seemed like an awfully stuck-up person, never acknowledging the people who took the time to say something. Why the reply buttons aren't showing up at work, I don't know -- the computers there can be a little touchy in what they let through.
*sigh* Now I need to go back ....
Ringing in a Dark Birthday
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
There are certain questions guaranteed – absolutely guaranteed – to cause trouble: “What else could go wrong?” “What does this do?” “Why don’t we invade Russia?”
I planned to cook my fiancée a birthday dinner. My question:
“How hard could it be?”
Emily didn’t try to stop me, so in my mind she’s at least partially responsible. The plan was simple: I would take one room in the house and clean it to within an inch of its life, and there we would have a romantic, candlelit dinner to celebrate her birthday, which happens to fall on December 21st. As that’s normally the shortest day of the year and the first day of winter, before I met her it was traditionally my day of mourning.
This year the world is scheduled to end on that date, so you’d better believe I’m just going to take her out to an expensive restaurant. According to the Mayans, the VISA bill won’t arrive next January.
This year the normal “what could go wrong?” festivities began three weeks earlier, when I got sick – as is also a tradition for me in December. Then she got sick. Then I got new medicine, which cleared up the original problem but made me sicker. Then she was put on an antibiotic that actually has the word “nitro” in the title, a warning sign if I ever heard one, and it made her sicker.
To make matter worse, she’d ordered something special for me that didn’t arrive in time for an earlier anniversary of our relationship, so when it arrived she began agonizing over when to give it to me.
It was under these circumstances that we entered the week of her birthday, so I threw caution to the wind and suggested we just go out to eat.
She refused, citing money issues. See why I love her so? Ordinarily I could be nothing but thankful to have someone who doesn’t want to spend money, but I was seeing the big picture: I owed her a meal, and I cook about as well as I do car maintenance – usually with the same disastrous results.
The next day, while still trying to talk her into it, I took my car to my son-in-law so he could change the oil (see above about car maintenance). As I sat inside, pretending to play with my grandsons while actually nursing a massive headache, he came in with the same look I get whenever someone says “snowstorm”: “You need to see something,” he intoned.
The tread was coming off my tire. Just … peeling off. Like it was something I’d glued on. “How far can I drive on this?” I asked.
“Across town. To the tire place.”
So I gave up hopes of taking Emily out to dinner, or of sneaking take-out into the house, and settled on … cooking. Also, I needed to make a cake. And, because we’d both been so sick for so long (being sick together isn’t nearly as romantic as they make it sound in Hollywood), a room still had to be cleaned.
And that’s when I said it: “I have a day, extra-strength ibuprofen, and antibiotics … how hard could it be?”
I’d never made salmon before. Or deep fried anything. Or made a cake. And once I got into the nook and crannies of the kitchen, I got to thinking I’d never cleaned it before, either.
No, it didn’t turn out to be the perfect birthday for her. I mean … it’s me. Although I managed the cake myself, she had to help me figure out the salmon (thank you, George Foreman) and the frying. In addition, she didn’t want to wait on that present for me – so I got a gift that day, too.
Still, we did have our candlelight dinner – for some reason I have thousands of candles packed away in the basement – and the kitchen (we didn’t have the energy to move our table into the dining room) looked pretty good if you squinted in the candlelight. I also learned a few lessons along the way:
Red velvet cake resembles something bloody at every step of the process. For awhile my kitchen looked like the lair of a serial killer.
Fish can taste pretty good even without breading. Why was I never told?
Other than food, no good can come from a pan of boiling grease.
Overall, despite our high level of physical misery and the fact that the act of eating exhausted us to the point of collapse, we had a pretty good time. After recovering she left the room, and returned with something behind her back. I don’t recall her exact words, as I really wasn’t expecting this, but I’ll paraphrase.
“I wanted to get you the Moon and the stars and the universe and everything … so I did.” Then she got down on one knee and held out a ring. “Will you marry me?”
We’d been shopping for wedding rings, so she knew my size, and she knew we were both huge astronomy fans. She presented me with one carved – literally – from a meteorite. It was so much cooler than the engagement ring I gave her.
Naturally, I said yes.
What could go wrong? Lots. But that doesn’t mean things don’t go right.
Big writing day from the Post Office
I got two shipments in the mail today: A box of Storm Chaser copies and a box of My Funny Valentine copies. Pretty much the most important items for the January 30 book signing.
My Funny Valentine is selling for $9.95 plus tax, while Storm Chaser is $14.95 – or $12.95 if you buy them both together. Come to the book signing or contact me for an order (www.markrhunter.com), or get the e-book version of My Funny Valentine at:
10,000 sequel updates
Hit the 10,000 words on the sequel! Of course, this is just the rough draft: There’s nothing to say I won’t decide half those words are junk and throw them out later. On the other hand, some areas are a little sparse on detail: I wrote half a page of just dialogue during … well, I won’t say during what. I’ll go back to fill more in later, and also to cut out some, so it’s likely to be a wash.
The horse stays. I’m second guessing the title, though …
C. Hope Clark: Three Traits of an Author's Platform
C. Hope Clark: Three Traits of an Author's Platform: Developing a platform is a vague concept to most folks. There are no 1-2-3 steps to a successful platform. That's good and that's bad. Bad i...
Counseling Future Councils
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
I retired from my position on the Albion Town Council at the end of the year, giving me a chance to move to a warmer climate and live a relaxed life of peaceful …
Oh, who am I kidding? I got fired by six votes, and I’m not going anywhere.
Perhaps some of my fourteen regular readers are thinking, “Mark, what accomplishments do you have to show for your eight years in office?” good question, all fourteen of you.
The answer: Nothin’.
No one person accomplishes anything on a Council. Certainly no one person gets full credit for any kind of major project in a small town. Leave the bragging about what “I” did to Presidential politics.
Unlike many state and federal offices, a small town council doesn’t compensate enough to make it something you do for money or power. A few candidates might come in with an ax to grind, but most do it because of their vision for the town, whether that vision is a thriving community looking toward the future, or turning the clock back to a sleepy little town of the 50’s.
I’m happy to say that none of the Council members of the last several years were stuck in the 50’s. They understand the challenges of growth and change; not one was ever complacent, and not one ever played favorites at the expense of the town. They were open to communication and fresh ideas, business friendly, and financially responsible. If they stay that way, Albion will be ready for success when and if the economy improves.
Also, none of them ever put any tacks on my Council chair, which I appreciate.
Oh, there’s a lot I’m proud of; there’s just nothing I can point to that I did alone, and that’s as it should be. So instead of extolling the wonderfulness that is me, I’d like to pass on some of the things I’ve learned from the job, and give some advice to community representatives of the future.
First, the wheels grind slowly. Usually there’s not a darn thing you can do about it, and usually it works out for the best. No matter how certain you are as to the best direction, take the time to sit back and study all the factors and alternatives.
The state and federal governments control a great deal of what you do, and there’s not much you can do about that, either. They’ll assume they know what should happen in your little town better than you do – especially the feds. Every attempt they make to gather strings of control and money should be resisted with all your energy, but the strings they already have are pretty firmly in their grasp.
Luckily a cadre of people gathers at coffee shops, restaurants and other points across town to happily solve all the world’s problems, including yours, while informing each other of why you’re doing it wrong. They seldom tell you that to your face, of course. They’re called armchair quarterbacks, although most never take the snap and carry the ball a few yards themselves.
Nor will many bother to come to meetings, talk to Council members or the Town Manager, or otherwise educate themselves on how things work. They’ll just complain. Complaining is the natural disposition of the human race, and is usually pretty harmless until someone’s complaint turns into a rumor that, by the time it reaches the other side of town, becomes the gospel truth. You can’t do anything about it. Well, you could spread rumors about them, but this isn’t fifth grade.
If one person comes in who does have a legitimate complain, chances are there are dozens more who have the same complaint. Don’t blow it off because no one seems interested.
On the other hand, be cautious of judging the opinion of everyone in down based on what one or two individuals say. Just as with national politics, the people who make the most noise at the local level are often – not always – on one extreme or another. They may be the “not in my back yard” types who are concerned only with themselves (not that they’re always wrong), or skilled crap stirrers who delight in causing hate and discontent, regardless of what excuse they come up with to do it.
The crap stirrers are also sometimes right – in fact, nothing makes them happier than to stumble upon an area in which they’re technically correct, then drive it like a stake into the spirits of everyone around them. They don’t really care about being right – they just love knowing that they can’t be ignored.
Remember, your job is to do what’s correct for the town, as long as it doesn’t stamp on individual rights any more than absolutely necessary. Don’t screw up the entire community for the sake of one complainer, but don’t use the common good as an excuse to bury someone you don’t like. Nobody said it would be easy.
Your job is to be a steward of town’s resources: That means not only knowing when not to spend money, but knowing when to spend it wisely. Don’t be short-term cheap, only to have something cost more down the road. Don’t throw money at something just because it looks good; that’s what the federal government is for.
Trust your department heads, and if you don’t trust them you’d better figure out why. Albion’s utility workers can take three wire clothes hangers and make a spaceship. Our Park people are the hardest working folks in the business. Our cops and firefighters are on the line at all hours. Our administrative people face a blizzard of unfunded mandates and regulations every day. Don’t skimp on educating yourselves: Understand what they do, and why they do it.
Above all, remember that you work for the town, not the other way around. Any community that doesn’t grow, adapt and prepare is doomed to shrink and die – you make the difference between being stuck in the 20th Century and leading into the 21st.
As for me, well, I’ve got books to write – but I’ll be around.
The press release for my January 30 book signing:
A book signing featuring local author Mark R. Hunter will be held at the Noble County Public Library main branch Monday, January 30th, from 3:30 p.m. to 6 p.m.
Hunter’s romantic comedy, Storm Chaser, was released last year by Whiskey Creek Press. In addition, he’ll have available copies of the humor compilation My Funny Valentine, just in time for Valentine’s Day gift buying. My Funny Valentine includes a holiday related column by Hunter that originally appeared in the Albion New Era, Churubusco News, and Northwest News, as well as humor pieces and cartoons by thirty-nine other humorists from all over.
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Anyone who hasn't bought Storm Chaser (or has, but wants another copy!) can get both books for a bargain: buy My Funny Valentine at $9.95, and get Storm Chaser for two dollars off, at $12.95. Hunter, a longtime local humor columnist who has a collection of short stories coming out in May, will answer any questions in addition to signing books at the library, located at 813 E. Main Street in Albion. He’s also a member of the Albion Volunteer Fire Department, and is working on a history of that organization.
More details about Storm Chaser are here:
While details about My Funny Valentine can be found here:
The Facebook events page for the library book signing is here:
More on Storm Chaser, by Mark R. Hunter:
The black funnel of an approaching tornado makes all other troubles seem small. But when Indiana State Trooper Chance Hamlin “rescues” Allie Craine from a twister, his troubles are just beginning—Allie, a disaster photographer, rescues him when he drives into the storm’s path.
Chance doesn’t like being rescued, he doesn’t like photographers, and he definitely doesn’t like being stuck with Allie when she wants to stay in calm, peaceful Indiana. Too bad his family, friends, and even the other members of Chance’s volunteer fire department think she’s great. Suspicious of Allie’s motives, he decides to drive her away out of sheer boredom—but that’s not so easy when someone begins causing fires and other catastrophes around the area. That someone might be Allie, who has plans of her own...
More on My Funny Valentine:
The pieces in My Funny Valentine might be warm fuzzies, or cynical snaps, historical enlightenment, or satiric spinouts, or behavioral field notes of Love in our times, but they have one thing in common: they’ll make you laugh. This is one anthology that goes beyond “bathroom reading”: it doesn’t shy from being wrapped in lace, flowers and murmurs to give to loved ones. It’s not a box of chocolates: but it’ll last longer.
Funny Books’ contributors are syndicated columnists, TV and comedy writers, and winners of the top humor awards. Coming together in special collections that poke a funny bone in the ribs of topics, issues and cultural icons you might not have thought of as humorous before reading these assortments of chortle mongers and guffaw greats.
5,000 word mark
I hit 5,000 words on Storm Damage ... among other things a horse has appeared and a fight broke out, neither of them planned. The horse was a last minute idea, but the fight just -- happened. No one was more surprised than me. However, it's exactly what the characters would do under the circumstances, now that I've realized what a nasty piece of work one of them is.
Don't worry -- the horse escaped uninjured.
Don't worry -- the horse escaped uninjured.
Storm Damage ... begun.
I’m 2,011 words into the rough draft of “Storm Damage” – wait, let me type in one – yay, 2,012 for 2012! The plan is to shoot for 5,000 words a week, in the hopes of having the rough draft done by the end of March. We’ll see … things happen.
Much as I try to plan ahead, I’m sometimes slowed at the beginning by little unanticipated research jobs: So far in Chapter One I’ve looked up how a horse rider helps a second person on (on the horse, I mean), what kind of vehicle a Congressman might drive, how many half-brothers Allie Craine has (you’d think I’d remember that), and the drive time between California and Indiana. But researching is part of the fun (although it’s perfectly okay to put it off until later, if you’re on a roll).
I’ll keep everyone updated on my status and post a line from time to time … meanwhile, if you want to see the sequel make sure to tell all your friends the original is still available! Oh, and if I seem like I’m in another world for the next few months … it’s because I am.
Much as I try to plan ahead, I’m sometimes slowed at the beginning by little unanticipated research jobs: So far in Chapter One I’ve looked up how a horse rider helps a second person on (on the horse, I mean), what kind of vehicle a Congressman might drive, how many half-brothers Allie Craine has (you’d think I’d remember that), and the drive time between California and Indiana. But researching is part of the fun (although it’s perfectly okay to put it off until later, if you’re on a roll).
I’ll keep everyone updated on my status and post a line from time to time … meanwhile, if you want to see the sequel make sure to tell all your friends the original is still available! Oh, and if I seem like I’m in another world for the next few months … it’s because I am.
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