Busy, busy, busy …
Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve been neglecting you.
It’s sort of a weird time lately. The time I usually spend on this blog waxing poetic about goofy stuff, promoting my fiction or just starting arguments seems to have been eaten up by other things lately.
The late hours at the office used to be good for a quick blog post, or at least dashing off a few words here and there that eventually would become a blog post. But downsizing and changes in the workplace sort of erased that.
Mornings at home used to be good blogging time, too. But it’s summer, the grass grows and the gardens need weeded and we have umpteen landscaping things going on and there always is someplace to be or something to do. And, most importantly, my daughter is home during these summer days, in between her triumphant success in first grade and the start of her second-grade adventures. So, even if Daddy decides to blow off mowing the lawn, or reading that book, or writing that new Calthus story, or heaving a few more heavy stones from Point A to Point B, Daddy still has his little girl to play with or read with. That’s fun and, frankly, it beats blogging.
For instance, daughter and I are reading “Romeo and Juliet.” She heard it mentioned on some Disney channel show or other, and vaguely remembered hearing those names. She asked me, “Daddy, do you know about Romeo and Juliet?”
“Sure, Shortcake,” I replied. “It’s a very famous play by William Shakespeare. I’ve read it a few times.”
“It’s in a book?”
“Yeah, right over there.” I pointed to the gigantic Globe volume on the lower shelf.
She smiled. “Can we read it?”
“Uh … well … um … it’s kind of a sad story.”
“OK.”
“Um … everybody dies.”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s a tragedy. Very sad.”
“Can we read it?”
“Well, you see, Shakespeare wrote a loooong time ago, and he’s a very great writer, but he used words very differently from the way people use them today. His stuff is really hard to understand, even for grownups.”
“Can we read it?”
What else could I do? “Sure.”
So, we’re reading “Romeo and Juliet” together. She’s grasped the concept of a play, and understands stage directions and such. I read a passage or two, pause, and ask my second-grader what she thinks is going on.
“It sounds like the prince is going to throw all these people in the dungeon if they don’t stop fighting in the streets.”
“Uh, yes. That’s it exactly, Shortcake.”
It’s slow going. We pause a lot and discuss what’s going on. We look at the costume illustrations. She sometimes has to back me up, because I forget to do the Nurse’s voice in a funny old-lady English accent. (Yeah. I know. The nurse isn’t English. Still.) Sometimes she gets distracted by the dog, or the TV, or something else. Sometimes, we find other fun stuff to do.
But she always comes back to it, reminds me to pick it up again and recalls what’s going on in the play so far. I’m impressed with her, and I just plain love spending time with her.
She also has picked up on some of Daddy’s night-owl tendencies this summer. She thinks it is really cool to stay up late with Daddy. And you know what? She’s right.
So, you see, I’m kind of busy these days.
Not too worry. I’m far too windy and opinionated to forego this blog forever. School will resume in the fall. Things at work will settle out at some point, the lawn will be more-or-less finished and I’ll find myself with some spare half-hour to devote to starting online arguments or dissecting Poe. Just … not now.
– Steve
Hello, and welcome to the blog of a sword-and-sorcery writer. Most of the stuff here is about writing fiction, but you'll also find some stuff about beer and Godzilla, a few bits of Zen, really short film reviews and my now-and-then rants about social injustice.You can find topics by category, using the list further down in this sidebar.
At least it was “Romeo and Juliet.” Imagine the scarring something like “Macbeth” could’ve done?
Steve: Enjoy the summer! I have similar distractions with the grandson. We get to watch him a few days each week. He is just about ready to start walking. He also is pointing at things and I swear he is saying “whazzat?”; so I tell him what it is, and he points at something else and says “whazzat?”!
Ty: I bet she would like the witches…
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.
Thrice and once, the hedge-pig whin’d.
Harpier cries:—’tis time! ’tis time!
Round about the caldron go;
In the poison’d entrails throw.—
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one;
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot!
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
Daddy time late at night - work it, Steve. It can last you a lifetime. From age 4 days (flat asleep on a snoring daddy in front of a taped PBS Peter Paul & Mary concert) to now - a week short of 22, out of college, employed, awesomely capable - my daughter and hubby have always had their late-night dates. They watch Sherlock Holmes and “House” and eat ice cream, and often, usually after 2 am, she opens up about stuff the way she never does any other time. She knows he’ll tell me, but it’s THEIR time.
Ellie: I know what you mean. It’s pretty cool.
Deven: Just wait until the kid starts asking really deep metaphysical questions, such as “Grandpa, why is red?”
– Steve
Ty: Actually, I have a feeling she’ll think the witches and ghosts and bloody murder in “MacBeth” are way cool.
– Steve
Ty - Macbeth doesn’t seem to have scarred our boys. We read it when they were about 4, 6, and 8. The older two gave up on it about 1/3 of the way in, but the youngest loved it. He had parts memorized. (Especially the witches’ chant that Deven quoted.)
I was in a big Shakespeare kick back then and reading for my own enjoyment. Derek asked about the “story” and I sold it to him as a tale of ghosts, witches, and war. The archaic language and the rhythm of speech didn’t seem to bother him at all. Maybe that is similar to the way younger children pick up other languages so quickly while it’s harder for older people.
Steve - in this house, “why is red?” would get all sorts of answers. From scientific explanations to existential to downright silly. It doesn’t seem to have harmed his dad and uncles any. Unless you count the offbeat sense of humor.
Doris: Offbeat humor is good.