Roughly Speaking

Jenny McCarthy Article

2009-06-27T15:12:00.004-04:00

“Hi, Jenny, it’s Jenny,” Jenny McCarthy said when I picked up the phone. Thus began my first TV celebrity interview. We talked about her latest book, Healing and Preventing Autism, and other books that helped her before she started writing on the topic herself. You can read the article here. Thank you to my friends Michelle and Carrie, two writer-moms with special needs kids who put autism on my radar. The piece wouldn’t have come together without ‘em. Too often “the good stuff” from interviews doesn’t make the article. Here’s a Q&A that I couldn’t work in, but I thought it was sweet and touching:

Q: Are there books out there on how to talk to your child about having autism? How did you do that with Evan?

A: Ooo, I have chills. I don’t know of any, but we need them. It’s timely and relevant. Evan kind of brought it up to me. He said, “Do you remember when I couldn’t talk?” I pulled the car over, I was crying, and I said, “Yes, Evan, I do. Why couldn’t you?” He said, “I don’t know. My words were stuck and I couldn’t get them out.” In that moment I just died because I thought to myself, So many of these kids are really locked inside and they understand. They just don’t know how to get the words out. Evan said, “Well, I used to be like Dory. [Dory the fish in Nemo - where she couldn’t remember her words], but I’m not like Dory anymore.” I said, “That’s right.” You know, I opened up an autism school across the street from my old house and Evan is around these kids. He doesn’t necessarily know what autism quite is yet, but he understands that something happened that caused him not to be able to speak. And he knows that everyday he goes over to the school to help the other kids talk. I think it’s going to be a gradual thing for Evan. An organic way of understanding what happened. I’m not going to be a mom who is going to make him hate doctors and the medical community. I just want to make him conscious and aware of what I call ‘new medicine’ where parents take things in their own hands. Everyone needs to trust themselves instead of what somebody else says. So that’s how I plan on doing it.

Home Sweet California

2009-06-25T18:54:00.002-04:00

Woke to daylight

Sweet pineapple and watermelon

Dressed in my best: yoga pants, t-shirt, socks, shoes

Kissed the hubs goodbye (he went off to a conference)

First stop: outdoors

Walking, walking, walking a 6.5 mile loop in North San Diego

Underneath the blooming jacaranda trees

Over their purple flowers dropped on the sidewalk

Tweet, tweet, tweet of birds

Prayers sent up to God on High

Through the smell of sagebrush in the salt marsh

Soft dirt, red bougainvillea, citrus trees . . . . could've walked the entire loop again (but I'll wait 'til tomorow)

Now, settled on a cozy bed with a makeshift laptop desk, writing as I gaze over the blue Pacific (ah, the joys of freelancing)

Happy, happy, happy

One Small Step

2009-06-22T09:01:00.002-04:00

Love thy neighbor is not advice. It's a command

--Bono, speaking on the AIDS emergency

The next LIME.com blog is posted, highlighting the book Change the World for Ten Bucks.

A Writer Joke

2009-06-20T21:20:00.004-04:00

Q: What did the magazine editor do to Jenny’s article about death?
A: Killed it.

Ha ha ha, hee hee hee, hoo hoo hoo, yuk yuk yuk…I crack myself up.

The article was killed (i.e., cancelled) years ago, and now I’m so grateful because it gave me plenty of time to rewrite a better version. Plus, I’ll get paid twice.

Hawaii

2009-06-08T09:42:00.002-04:00

The other night my husband and I were flipping through TV channels when we got sucked into the movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall. It’s filmed in Hawaii. As I watched the gorgeous scenery – a glowing sun, turquoise waves and white sandy beaches – I thought, “I want to live in Hawaii one day.” I first flirted with the idea of moving to Hawaii for college. My parents said I’d go “island happy” which sounded fine to me, but instead of applying to UH, I let them talk me into attending a school a few hours away in Ohio (where I went landlocked crazy). Anyway, maybe another opportunity to move to Hawaii will come along. Maybe a botanist will telephone me out of the blue and offer me a job, along with a car and a house. Hey, it could happen. It did to Lucinda Fleeson, author of the upcoming book Waking Up in Eden.

To read about Waking Up in Eden head over to the LIME.com blog where I post about books every other Monday.

Book of the Month

2009-06-04T13:09:00.006-04:00

Writing about one’s spiritual life is hard. How to add action to the scenes? How to avoid jargon, especially when the spiritual community you’re a part of is unfamiliar to many? But when done right, spiritual stories are my favorite. On a rainy Saturday, I devoured Cartwheels in a Sari by Jayanti Tamm. Tamm was raised in a cult, devoting her life to a self-proclaimed spiritual master who told Tamm she was his Chosen One. As she grew, she began having doubts about her guru, and the book chronicles her struggles as she questions her faith.

Meet Me on Friday

2009-06-01T13:06:00.003-04:00

Been working on a long-term book project for ages now. It is research intensive. A bit overwhelming. I almost never have trouble finding motivation to write, but this project has been challenging. I’ve been plugging away at it here and there. Well, here and there isn't cutting it. So...I asked another writer friend to meet me at a coffeehouse every Friday. It’s been dubbed our “difficult assignment” day and we work on projects that we would normally procrastinate over.

Brilliant idea.

I’m cranking.

Kicking butt.

Only one last section to go.

Why, oh why, didn’t I think of this three years ago?

LIME.com Blog

2009-05-25T09:06:00.003-04:00

Next LIME.com blog post is up -- about Indian spices. Yum, yum, yum. Read it here.

Oldies but Goodies

2009-05-22T16:52:00.007-04:00

The latest issue of USA Weekend magazine spotlights some great memoirs, but with a twist. The books were all written before the genre became so popular. (And how fun that my TV crush Kyle Chandler happens to be on the magazine’s cover?) Read my article here. Do you have a favorite “old” memoir?

The Wilderness, Part II

2009-05-13T23:52:00.002-04:00

Robin stirs a can of oil. She’s here at the writer’s cabin to teach me how to treat my outdoor deck.

“Dip a quarter inch of the paintbrush into the oil,” she says.

I’m half paying attention as I fiddle with a wooden shutter.

“AIEEEE, a spider!” I scream.

Robin doesn’t take her eyes off the deck. “You'll see those from time to time out here,” she says. “Pull the oil with the grain,” she says as she strokes the brush lengthwise.

“I know there are spiders out here but, ah, I think this, um, might be the poisonous kind,” I say. I watch the round black blob crawl around the shutter.

She doesn’t look up. “About 15 minutes after applying the oil, blot any extra shiny spots with a rag,” she says.

“Seriously,” I say. “Can you look at this?” I point to the spider. “I think it’s a black widow.”

“Wow,” she jumps back, startled. Then she takes the paint brush and knocks the spider so it spirals around and we see its abdomen. “Yep, it’s a black widow,” she says.

She knocks the spider to the ground and stomps on it.

“Was a black widow,” I say.

Ron and I are used to black widows. We once lived in a newly developed complex in the Santa Monica mountains and found them in our garage all the time. He used to trap them, walk them out into the hills, and let them go. But I’m more of a spider killer. And this one was huge. The biggest black widow I’ve ever seen. I figure it must’ve been pregnant. As I spend the next few hours oiling my deck, I’m relieved that the black widow and her babies are gone – the last thing I need is to rush off to the emergency room for a deadly spider bite. It’s not until hours later, after I’m in bed and sore from treating the deck (the good kind of sore where you know you’ve worked hard), when I remember the book Charlotte’s Web.

Spiders don’t give birth to babies by pushing them down a little spider uterus and out a vajayjay. They lay eggs. And they wrap those eggs in a sac in their web.

I hop out of bed, grab my flashlight, and begin to search. There it is – inside the house by the same window where I’d found the black widow. I can’t tell if the gray balls stuck among the web are dead bugs wrapped up and ready to be eaten or baby spiders about to burst forth all over my floor. I vacuum the web up with my Dirt Devil. Then I walk out on the deck. The moon is almost full, but even with its bright light I can see hundreds and hundreds of stars. The longer I stand and watch the night sky, the more stars appear. I stand forever. Breathing in the smell of pine and watching the constellations move. I might be a little rusty about how to navigate the wild after living in the city for so long. But I know the mountains is where I belong, spiders and all.

More Books

2009-05-08T15:26:00.005-04:00

Two additional books I wanted to spotlight in my article (on infertility) in USAW magazine: 1. All Seasons Pass by Martha Manning - as a clinical psychologist, I loved her insights about secondary infertility. 2. An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken - it's not about infertility, but about pregnancy loss. Read the article here.

The Wilderness, Part I

2009-05-05T17:01:00.002-04:00

Dripping wet from my morning shower, I tiptoe over to the window. The mountain air is chilly and I’m wearing nothing but a towel, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to sneak out onto the deck. Quiet and slow, I open the sliding glass door for a closer look. The turkeys hear me anyway and scuttle off, gobbling and leaving a trail of flying feathers.
A few days later, I’m on the couch half dozing, half watching a pink sunrise when I hear banging, like someone is using a hammer. Bang, bang, bang. My property manager is coming here today to help me stain the deck, but she’s arriving at 10:30am, not 6:30am. Bang, bang, bang. I’m at the writing retreat in Colorado. The closest neighbor is acres away. Who is that? The hammering sounds like it’s coming from . . . downstairs. On the ground level I follow the noise to the closed door of a storage room. The banging is louder. Urgent. I swing open and door and find myself face to face with a turkey. His head is cocked and he’s looking in at me from the yard outside, his beak pecking a small window.

Crazy bird was trying to break into my house. He wanted to eat a can of paint.

Novels

2009-05-04T19:48:00.004-04:00

To give some sort of focus and structure to this blog, I decided to post a “book pick” every fourth day of the month. Then two things happened: (1) I got a regular book blogging gig over here; (2) I went through a dry spell where I wasn’t reading so much (I’m usually either writing or reading, and I’m currently in a long writing stretch). Anyway, I mentioned last month that in May I’d blog about novels instead of my typical non-fiction or memoir picks. I did buy a novel to post about, but after three failed attempts to get past page 27, I returned it. So how about I’ll list a handful of novels that I’ve read in the past and liked: The Alchemist, The Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Kitchen God’s Wife, The Kite Runner, A Prayer for Owen Meany, The Red Tent, Snow Falling on Cedars, Waiting, and Water for Elephants. What about you? What are some of your favorite novels?

Fuzzy Wuzzies

2009-04-30T21:28:00.004-04:00

Last weekend I visited my hometown in Ohio. I still have the fuzzy wuzzies. I’ve only been there two times in the past six years (my parents moved away when I was in college), but each time I go back “home” I’m flooded with happy emotions. I told Ron, “You could blindfold me and drop me in ANY state. If you picked Northeast Ohio I’d be able to tell you in an instant. The sights, the smells, the sounds - I know them by heart.”

Here’s my extended family. Aren’t they cute? My aunt gave me a gorgeous arrangement of flowers (they're hidden behind Ron). My uncle Dave (mustache man) told me I wasn’t blogging enough (I was so thrilled someone actually read Roughly Speaking that I vowed to do better).
I love playing sports, but have never been a huge fan of watching sports – except when it comes to cheering on my favorite baseball team. Friday night we saw the Indians game. Go Tribe! (They lost.)

On Saturday, I gave Ron a tour of my hometown. Poor guy. I hope I didn’t torture him too much. Here’s a recap:

“Ron! That’s the course where I learned to play golf as a kid. The monitors only let us hit the ball 10 times before they made us move it to the green. I didn’t know the rules so I used a tee on the fairway. Ha ha ha ha ha!.”

“Ron! That’s my high school boyfriend’s house. His mom was a realtor. For kicks on Friday night, my friends and I used to take her “For Sale” yard signs and move them to different houses that she wasn’t representing. Ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Ron! That’s where I went to fourth grade!”

He was SUCH a good sport. He even called his mom to tell her how much he liked being there.

On Sunday we had brunch with my grandma in her retirement community. Out of all people, I ran into my nursery school music teacher. “Good grief,” I said after we shook hands and she went on her way. “She had gray hair and curls when I was three.”

One of the best parts of the weekend was the SUNSHINE. Northeast Ohio is known for overcast skies. As the pastor of my childhood church likes to say, “We have a record: one day of sunshine in a row.” (Last weekend, we got two and a half gorgeous days.)

The trip was so quick. I didn’t get to see my aunt and uncle’s Golden Retriever, Jake, and feed him ice cream (he likes McDonald’s vanilla soft cone). I spent time with grandma, but I didn’t get to play cards with her (our favorite game is double solitaire). I also didn’t get to see my college roommate, Kathleen, or my friend, Michelle, who now lives nearby (wah!). But I’m going to try to return next year. Have you visited your hometown lately? Does it bring on the fuzzy wuzzies? Or am I nutsy wutzies?

Earth Friendly Bookworm

2009-04-27T10:29:00.002-04:00

One blog dies, yet another is born.

As the newest addition to LIME.com’s blogging community, I’m happy about the topic I’ll be covering. It’s one of my most favorite subjects in the world. I’ll give you three hints: (1) it’s not about California; (2) it’s not about writing – though it’s a close, close relative; and (3) the title of my blog is Earth Friendly Bookworm (now if that third clue wasn’t a dead giveaway…).

Head over to LIME.com to dig around and read my first post titled Peace, Love, and Pineapples. Cooking isn't my best skill, but you’ll find out why I’m inspired to make a Dragon Bowl for dinner this week (maybe you’ll be inspired, too).

Earth Day

2009-04-22T10:14:00.003-04:00

For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land. Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care. --Psalm 95:3-7

Breathings of Your Heart

2009-04-21T18:32:00.004-04:00

In January 2008, I put together two articles for mediabistro.com highlighting magazines that publish personal essays. Part I listed 15 markets. Part II listed 15 more. It’s been over a year, and I still receive about one e-mail every few weeks from various writers thanking me for those pieces. Many share with me an essay they’ve published. I’m in the process of updating Part I and Part II to make sure all the info is current. And – here’s the fun news – I’m working on Part III. I'd love your help. Are there personal essay markets you’d like to see featured? Maybe you know of a city magazine or newspaper that runs one? Or maybe there’s a national market that’s tough to crack and you want the inside scoop? How about an online venue that posts first person pieces? Let me know, and I’ll try to include it.

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
~William Wordsworth

Summer School

2009-04-13T16:06:00.004-04:00

I’m four pages along in Writing Down the Bones, and I already love the book.

Natalie Goldberg writes: Walking home from work that night, I stopped in the Centicore Bookstore on State Street and wandered up and down the aisles. I saw a thin title of poetry entitled Fruits and Vegetables by Erica Jong. The first poem I opened to in the book was about cooking an eggplant! I was amazed: “You mean you can write about something like that?”

That’s exactly how I feel about writing personal essay. You mean I can use material from my own life – dancing at my wedding, moving away from California, or being poked by an acupuncturist – and publish the stories in newspapers and magazines?

If you want to break into essay writing OR if you’ve already broken in but want the structure of a class to finish works-in-progress and keep up with submission goals, I’m here to help. C’mon over to my place on Tuesday nights this June where I’ll be teaching a 5-week course titled Personal Essay for Publication. Here are the details.

P.S. If you know people in the DC-area who might be interested, please help spread the word. Many thanks!

Book of the Month

2009-04-04T14:45:00.008-04:00

When I read Abraham Verghese was out with a new book, I immediately made a mental note to buy it. But as I continued scanning the article and learned his new book was a novel, my interest waned. I can’t figure out why this is the case. I’ve been challenging myself about the whole non-fiction/fiction divide: why do I (and why does our culture) feel a craving for stories to be "true"? I do enjoy novels if they are well-written and feel authentic. Because I admire Verghese’s writing style, I’m going to trust his new book meets those criteria and read it. But I haven’t bought it yet . . . so for April’s book of the month pick I’m highlighting Verghese’s masterful memoir, My Own Country. It’s about his experience as an infectious disease doctor in Johnson City, Tennessee as he takes care of AIDS patients at time when little was understood about the disease. A must-read if you missed it in the past. And what the heck, why don’t I take my challenge to the next level? Check Roughly Speaking on May 4 for the next book pick – I promise to highlight a novel.

Waiting for Blossoms

2009-03-30T20:42:00.009-04:00

When we first moved to DC, I was grumpy for a good 10 months. I didn't like it here and wanted to move back to LA. Then the cherry blossoms burst open and softened me up (I wrote a radio piece about the festival called Signs of Spring). Today I still miss California. But every season I try to catch the cherry blossoms.

That first time I saw them, I rushed my parents out to the city so they could enjoy them too. It rained from the moment their plane arrived until the moment it took off. We tried a covered boat cruise, but it was no good. The following year I convinced my parents to trek here once again – it rained harder. We didn’t even bother driving by the Tidal Basin, let alone walking around it. There’s nothing as depressing as seeing cherry blossoms on a wet cloudy day. It’s not just the flowers that make the experience magical – you need a mix of bloom and sun and blue blue sky.

Now I know the secret. I can’t force cherry blossoms to fit my schedule. This year, I’d have to wait until they were ready to sparkle. So I stayed inside as the rain pelted the ground. Monday morning, out walking the dog, I shivered in the damp breeze and looked up where the sun was barely visible through heavy clouds. Back in my office I hunkered down for another dreary day. Yet by noon, the clouds blew away.

“Can you leave work right this minute?” I asked Ron over Yahoo! IM.
A couple trades on the stock market, and he was out the door.
“Let’s walk to the festival,” I suggested.
“It’s 8 miles,” Ron said.
Bummer.
“You could rollerblade and I could ride your Townie,” he offered.
“That might work – if you don’t mind being seen on a girl’s bike the color of red raspberries and with a white basket on the front,” I said.
He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
We ended up driving to a park near Reagan Airport and walked from there (about 3 miles).

The picture above was taken when I looked back over my shoulder -- thanks to the suggestion of a man we met (most people only look forward on the path or out across the water).

Girls who dressed the part.

Next year my family will have to come for more than two days so they can wait out the rain. It's so worth it. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

Order in the Office

2009-03-26T19:00:00.003-04:00

I like to think of myself as an organized person, especially after The Space Case taught me so many lessons. But the evidence seems to be to the contrary:
Last week I’d had enough. I cleaned my office. Two days later, I went to grab a document from the . . . hmm . . . I honestly had no clue where to look for it other than amidst the piles on top of my desk, but there were no piles on top of my desk.

So I spent an hour tearing my office apart until I finally found it (in a file). On a train ride home from NYC today, I opened The New York Times. Looks like I’m not the only one with this dilemma.

On a Roll

2009-03-19T23:45:00.003-04:00

I’m writing my butt off. Literally. I have bruises on each cheek from being glued to a chair. Yesterday I walked to the river and along the bike path, and tomorrow morning I’m off to the tennis courts, but squeezing an hour of exercise into the writing life isn’t cutting it. Maybe I should get one of those treadmill desks. Sunshine is finally on its way to Northern Virginia, so Ron said, “Let’s spend Sunday outside.” There’s not much that can pull me away from my work when I’m on a roll, but sunshine + Ron + outdoor date? I’m there. My butt will thank me.

Woodstock

2009-03-09T22:33:00.008-04:00

Woodstock, N.Y. is a must-see.

I spent the weekend in the artist colony on assignment. The romantic tree-filled hillsides and the rustic B&Bs that serve up organic eggs and homemade breads reminded me of Big Sur, Califoria. Well, minus the drop-dead gorgeous views of the Pacific Ocean and with freezing rain instead of warm sunshine.

Still.

How many places can you drive through the town’s main street and see this type of sign:
Or a library as a inviting as this white house:

Or shops by local artisans that say Open by Appointment or Luck, clothing stores that sell tie-dyed yoga pants, and independent bookstores like this gem:

And seriously – how often do you leave a bookstore with a new memoir in hand only to notice Abigail Thomas browsing the window display? (I don’t have a photo of this moment – you’ll have to take my word).

After agonizing about interrupting her day, I introduced myself, and I’m so glad I did because she’s very nice. It was the perfect ending to the weekend, or so I thought. Driving out of Woodstock to return home I swerved off the road and made a U-turn at the last minute when I saw this:

I’m drinking herbal tea instead of caffeine these days, but every rule calls for an exception. If finding an organic coffee roaster after such a weekend isn’t cause for celebrating with a cup of Woodstock blend then what is?

Book of the Month

2009-03-04T18:57:00.007-05:00

In India I visited an orphanage. The kids went nuts when my mom and I walked in the room with crayons and large sheets of paper to spread on the floor. I'm not sure if we were a help to the caretakers (giving them a break) or if we brought on more chaos, but it was fun (and on a deeper level, sad). I hoped to read a book on the topic of abandoned children in India, but wound up finding this one instead. It's about an Ethiopian widow who takes in countless AIDS orphans. Amazing story.

Building a Writing Career

2009-03-01T22:59:00.003-05:00

I’ve skated through the economic downturn without much struggle.

Well, until now.

One of my regular gigs – the Wasa blog – is being dismantled.

Taking inventory of the posts tonight, I walked down memory lane. I came across my first post. I was reminded of yummy recipes I’d forgotten, like my Egg Rough-Muffin. I re-read my Barbara Kingsolver moment and felt excitement sprouting inside – this spring I hope to start a garden. I was relieved when I read Confused about Coffee. I’m no longer addicted to the stuff (then again, I’m not sure I see myself off it for life). I smiled in appreciation at the comments, especially grateful to Michelle, Elizabeth, and Carissa who have been faithful readers.

Although I was a bit sad when I logged off, I was immediately intrigued by what path will open next. Teaching? Maybe this fall. An overhaul of Roughly Speaking? I have an idea simmering for this blog. An editing gig? A different corporate blog? Poetry?

I’m gonna take a few weeks to think about my next direction. Funny how a dismantling can help build a career.