Hello and welcome to this Easter weekend Saturday, here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is April 3rd.
I've been nose to the grindstone on the work side of life over here at our house. When I sat down to write the blog post, my brain was so sizzled from a week full of Zoom...well, a fork stuck into an electrical outlet would be a good visual.
So, I sifted through the files of my writing that never sees the light of day and found a couple choice bits that I thought you all might enjoy.
From May 2020, I wrote: The Third Grader is really mad that the $7 bill The Oldest made isn’t real. I told her they were Hruby* Bucks and they had their own value at our house, however, the currency with the greatest value is love. Then the Kindergartener said, “Love is free.” Later, the WAKWIR used those discarded Hruby bucks to "rent" the Third Grader's computer. I'm optimistic about the Third Grader's future because I see her already honing her entrepreneurial skills. She's already coming up with ingenious ways of making money. Her first strategy, in fact, was to create her own currency. (No doubt, inspired by her older sister.) Last summer, she went around our yard collecting pine cones and assigning them monetary value, to which I replied, “See? Money really does grow on trees.” Her next moneymaking scheme was to create a menu and start charging family members for their meals. Hey, at least you get to pick what you want to eat and it will be served to you – if you’re willing to pay $7 for toast.
Anne Lamott recommends in her book Bird by Bird to carry index cards with you wherever you go so you can catch those moments of interest throughout the day. While index cards are arguably a tool of the '90s (her book was published in 1994), the idea of catching inspiration is a timeless and valuable one.
One gem I caught in March - and, yes, it was in fact on a notecard - was this observation the Kindergartener made: "A vegetarian is a person who can turn into any animal and is green."
Lamott also addressed writer's block in her book and since I wrote down what she said on an index card, I will share it with you because it's sitting here right on my desk and all I have to do is type.
Yes, writer's block is a thing. (That's Anne talking. I actually disagree. I've got too many things going on to be bothered with putting energy into a concept like writer's block.) Anyway, when you're stuck and don't know what to do, pretend you're living your last day on Earth and do something else; something that you would do on your final day.
I actually agree with that second part - imagine what you would do if it was your last living day. On the card, I wrote: "This has been my 2020 - a reboot, a rebirth. I got outside and had so many adventures, many of which I chronicled on the Wannaskan Almanac blog. I didn't write much during 2020. (Note: Here, I think I meant that I didn't write as much as I would have liked to and certainly not on my languishing second novel who hangs out in my computer files like a neglected child waiting to be pushed on the swing of my imagination.) But I felt renewed. I came to my writing differently. Fueled. Refreshed. And I got better. Adventures with the Kindergartener and all the things I discovered in my own backyard."
An incomplete thought, I know, that last sentence. I think I was supposed to expand on that. But today, it feels okay to let it just sit there. Maybe I have writer's block.
On that note, I'm heading outside to rake leaves (because that's what I would do on my last living day?) and give my eyes a rest from the computer screen. After that, we'll dye Easter eggs. I'd really like to watch a movie tonight. And maybe I'll pick up that knitting I've neglected all winter. (Two projects!) Scratch that. Easter Vigil is at 8:30 p.m.
But tomorrow will be Easter and I will take a day of rest to celebrate my Catholic faith and enjoy my family. I've got an Easter egg hunt planned!
And maybe I'll stick a notecard or two in my back pocket. (Or my new tuk book!) You know - just in case.
Happy Easter!
On This Day
Remembering You
Kim
* Some of you will catch on quick that I wrote Hruby instead of Hruba. This name distinction is a feature of the Czech language. The males in our family are "Hruby" and the females are "Hruba." I don't know why I called them Hruby Bucks instead of Hruba bucks. But if you want to speculate, leave a comment!
Kim! Your post proves you don't have writer's block. Writer's block is not a thing but a state of mind which we can distract ourselves out of. I need to take Graham Greene's advice about boring situations. Up to this point I've used alcohol to see me through. Not the healthiest. My index card is the Notes app on my phone. When a squib drifts by I catch at least a couple keywords on the phone before the squib dissolves into the misty world it came from.
ReplyDeleteThis Easter I attended all three of the Triduum services. It's been awhile since I've attended more than one of them. But I was inspired by James Joyce of all people. Joyce had no respect for the Catholic Church but he liked the ritual of the Triduum and attended every year. I think he considered himself Catholic the way he considered himself Irish.
Not to be sacrilegious, but the longest and most boring party I've attended in a while was the recent Holy Saturday service. 8:30 pm, the hour I start thinking about bed. We started at a fire outside, lit our candles, and returned to the darkened church. Like Joyce, I love a darkened church. Then the cantor turned on a glaring light atop the lectern. So much for my last good confession. The cantor had a high sweet voice, but the hymn was set in a monotone that went on for a good ten minutes. There was plenty of light to jot down my observations.
There were a ton of Old Testament readings and that was ok. I was expecting that. For some reason, I thought there was no communion at this mass but I was mistaken. I know the Pilgrims used to go to church all day Sunday and I'm ashamed of my whining. As people filed up for communion, the cantor began singing Leonard Cohen's great "Allelulia," which didn't seem appropriate for church. Not to worry, they had thrown away Cohen's strange lyrics and filled in the blanks with churchiness. Oh well. It was soon over and I had a ton of bile to discharge.
Kim, I don't see why you can't change the name of Hruby Bucks. They did it to Leonard Cohen.