They hated my writing and I couldn't be more grateful

Last month I spent a week at a writer's workshop at the University of Iowa.  I have the bones of a detective type book and want to do whatever it takes to finish the damn thing.  Going into the workshop I felt pretty confident about the 15 pages offered up for criticism. 


Apparently my perspective of good was not shared by the group.  Unanimously not shared. 


It was a humbling experience.  My most common writing mistakes:


- Stop telling, show action.
- More dialogue
- Shorter is sharper
- Speed up the story


No punches were pulled.  One male classmate suggested I not refer to the Texas GOP so negatively.  It will put off readers.  To which a woman in the class wrote on her copy of my manuscript (which opens with a rape): "Weird that a potential slam to GOP is offensive but not brutal rape."  So true.


All in all, their generous criticism has changed my writing.  Hopefully for the better.  I won't, however, be deleting the gentle jabs at the GOP.


   

Play soccer not soldier!

I recently blogged about how soccer transcends politics.  I can now report that it also transcends war!  It's been reported by more than one news source that there was a pause in the bombing of Gaza that coincided with the final match of the World Cup.  And, it was NOT a coincidence.  BOTH sides were watching the match!


I mean, GET OUT!!!


I can see the slogans:


Play soccer not soldier!
Tackle world issues on the pitch!
Boots not bombs!
Balls not bombs!
Put Germany in charge (awkward... trying to come up with something funny to do with Germany)
One ball could save thousands!
World peace is the goooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllll!!


One can hope.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Today my dad turns 90. 


Frank Lochridge was born in Illinois and raised in South Dakota.  His father was a Methodist minister.  He had one older brother, now deceased.  He was a soldier in World War II, a husband for 65 years, father to five boys and one girl, and grandfather and great-grandfather to many, many more. 


My father lived a good life by most standards.  He would argue with me, but I suspect he was kind of spoiled.  His father wasn't present, as we like to say now.  Then, it wasn't unusual.  So he was left to his mother's care.  To say she loved him dearly is an understatement.  In her eyes, he could do no wrong.  My daughter Jenny would say she wore "mom goggles."


Esther Lochridge called my father June, as in Junior.  We kids once tried to call him that, mocking his feminine moniker.  It didn't really go over.


My father loved all sports.  If it involved a ball, he played.  He was a natural and luckily was able to turn his athleticism into an occupation after college.  He would spend the next 25 years with the YMCA, mostly in Aberdeen, S.D.


Then a vacation trip in 1974 to California and back to South Dakota took my father, mother and two younger brothers through Montana.  I recall his excitement upon returning.  He and my mother had decided to sell everything and move to this wondrous place with grand mountains and forests and raging rivers.  But don't tell Esther.  Yet. 


It turned out to be the right decision.  He loved Montana and the challenge of making a living there.  He and my mother and two younger brothers became Montanans. They are Montanans.  And they were able to bring Esther to live with them for her final years. 


Now my father is in his final years.  For several years he has been gradually leaving us as dementia has pretty much replaced his ability to think and remember.  But he made it to 90 years!  That is an accomplishment.


Happy Birthday, Dad!   

Obama in Texas (I hope someone packed the olive branch)

The president is coming to Texas for a couple of fundraisers.  Nothing wrong with that, right?


Wait. I forgot we are talking about President Obama so the GOP theory of any movement is the wrong movement must apply.  Walk one of his dogs?  Cat hater!   Not engage with crazy dictators?  Dictator hater!  The activity is irrelevant.  It's all about the hate.


So when Gov. Perry asks the president to carve out some time during his visit to talk about the lost children of South America crossing our borders, Obama has said thanks, but no thanks.  I can't say I blame the president and his staff for brushing off our governor.  Been snake bit one too many times by that one.    


But this time I do hope our president reconsiders his decision not to meet with Gov. Perry.  This situation needs any and all ideas.  Imagine the good that could come from a meeting of these two men and their staffs.


Fingers crossed. 


UPDATE: The president has reconsidered and is meeting with Gov. Perry tomorrow.  Fingers still crossed.

Me to customer service: Yahh, don't have a nice day, then!

I am pissed today.  Had to control my breathing to slow the old heart rate.  What set me off?  Horrible customer service.  We aren't getting our pool serviced this week (awwww, poor us, I know), because our dog barked yesterday at the pool guy and he wouldn't come into the backyard.


OK.  First, Thursdays (which is today, not yesterday) is our scheduled service day.  Second, when I pointed that out to the customer service person, she could care less.  "It's our short week."  Fourth of July and all.  I think I still would have kept it together if only she had added those two magic words, "I'm sorry." 


I know I shouldn't be sweating the small stuff, but it's MY small stuff and why should I always be the nice one.  Niceness; my cultural albatross.


This past week I binge watched the FX show "Fargo."  It reminded me how agonizingly polite my people (I was born in North Dakota, raised in South Dakota) are.  The portrayals of course are an exaggerated homage to world class passivity.  Billy Bob Thornton's character attempts to obliterate niceness.  Characters played by Colin Hank and Alison Tolman stand in his way.  Holy shit, it got intense.  Or, as my people would say: Aw heck, it was scary!


Maybe my pissed reaction to the I-could-care-less customer service person was a lingering influence from the show.  Make a stand, gosh darn it!  But don't be impolite, yahh know.


So when I was told there would be no one coming, I said "that's all I needed to know" and hit the end call button on my cell phone.  I could hear the customer service person still talking when I hung up.  Uff dah!  That should make her think twice next time, then. 


It for sure made me feel better, dontcha know...

Ann Coulter takes a shot at soccer and scores!!!!!!!

Ann Coulter is at it again.  This time she's taking aim at soccer.  The game is a gigantic conspiracy to turn the country liberal, she says.  And, the same people who pretend to like soccer also pretend to think women's basketball is interesting.


What??


Coulter's claims are so far out there makes you wonder.  Wonder if they are too out there even for her.  Wonder if she so desperately craves the spotlight.  Wonder if she is crazy like a fox. 


I believe it's all of the above.  Coulter calculated the backlash, counted on it, and got a day or two worth of attention.  Blasted mostly.


This is how I see her reaction:   GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!

Joe Scarborough, you got it wrong!

Earlier this week my good buddy Joe Scarborough was griping that world leaders - European in particular - were more focused on what is going on in Brazil than the unfolding disaster in Iraq.


I say good buddy because I watch his and Mika's show with the kind of regularity that breeds familiarity. 


If nothing else, my little brother Joe is consistent.  Every time I watch he will say at least one thing that is truly annoying.  Which, really, is not a bad record given that he has an open mic for three hours a day, five days a week.  


So his comment scolding world leaders for their distracted attention on the World Cup instead of fixing a civil war that is now a few hundred years old was just plain wrong. 


Soccer is a spiritual experience.  Watch the pomp and tradition of the opening of a match.  Little children, representing hope for the future, walk hand-in-hand with players onto the sacred pitch.  Grown men and women belt out their national anthem, many with tears embracing the moment.  The friendly exchange between team captains and then with officials just before the whistle.  Fans wear their match-day regalia with pride and with most creative expression.  For 90-plus minutes any given nation viewership (90 percent of a nation if you are Dutch, 50 percent if you are English; 100 percent if you are Brazil, etc.) is mesmerized in the simple beauty and skill of back and forth movement.  Hope hangs over the pitch for the entire match.  Loads and loads of hope.  And when  hope is delivered; gratitude erupts.  Soccer is a spiritual experience.


Soccer transcends politics.  What other single event brings the world together for an entire month?  Olympics, yeah, but you are talking multiple sports that most people have no interest in, really.  Soccer is the world's most popular sport and all eyes currently are turned to the Southern Hemisphere.  What better venue, then, for a world leader to be seen attending??   I celebrate Angela Merkel cheering on the German team.  (Every time the camera zoomed in on her, my husband would say "looks like she needs a back rub."  And every time he said that, I laughed. He's funny.  Google "Merkel back rub" if you don't get why it's funny) My other favorite Joe, as in veep Joe Biden, was there for the U.S. match against Guyana, sitting next to our opponent's president.  Soccer transcends politics. 


So, my good friend who I never actually met, I forgive you for mistakenly dragging soccer into the political mud.  How about that Clint Dempsy playing with a broken nose!!??