Melanie and I drove back to Houston yesterday. We got back a day early, but wanted to get ahead of any potential bad weather. After enjoying the low humidity and temperatures in the mountains, I am now enjoying the rain and humidity of the Gulf Coast. It is just too much fun to have my glasses fog up every time I walk outside.
I did face a bit of a welcoming committee as soon as I walked in the door last night:
Yes, there are two cats in the picture. Vesta, the Siamese, just likes to blend in with the carpet. By now they have almost forgiven me for abandoning them for so long — even if they were left in very capable and loving hands.
Today was a day to rest and begin to settle back in to home life. I only did one load of laundry, but I went through all of the mail that had piled up and I caught up with emails and messages. Even unpacked one of the two suitcases that traveled with me. I don’t want to do too much too fast and risk hurting myself. You know how that goes, don’t you?
Since I started off this blog writing about going to the Alley Theater to see Picasso at the Lapin Agile, it is only fitting that I end this segment of the blog with another trip to the Alley Theater. Tonight I saw a really good play on the downstairs stage at the Alley called, The Cake. Good story with humor, drama, food for thought and a happy ending:
After they play, they literally served small pieces of cake to all audience members. Yum!
Tomorrow I have a list of errands to run, unless it is raining too much. The good part about retirement is that I don’t have to set an alarm clock and if the weather is too bad, then I don’t have to go anywhere! Maybe I will just stay home all day reading and writing. Yes, retirement is good.
I am going to take a few days off from blogging. Both Melanie and I will return in a few days to share more adventures of the RoadBroads. Keep checking back and have a great week.
Details on all that later. For tonight — after 21 hours of driving across three states in two days — I’m home, ready to sleep in my own bed after 17 days and 2703 miles.
A lot of numbers to absorb, eh?
Maybe that’s why I’m e‐x‐h‐a‐u‐s‐t‐e‐d. But, overall, it’s good tired.
Rummaging through Larry McMurtry’s bookstore in Archer City may be key.
To the right here is one corner of one room of one of his treasure‐packed stores. All are used books and/or literary classics and collectibles. Imagine looking at row after row of 14‐foot high bookcases; pile after pile of reading treasures. Overwhelm rises in your bones. The smell of old books wafts up to your nose and you remember when you first discovered the joy of the written, printed word. Intensity grows, the feelings of overwhelm magnified by more books than you’ve ever seen in one place. Magnify the overwhelm by a factor of ten.
I’m proud of myself — I left Larry’s place with only four books.
That’s because this was my fourth bookstore in four days. My car already has two bulging sacks of books awaiting my reading delight. Such joy, however, can only be indulged after unpacking, laundry, groceries, errands, phone calls and everything else I walked away from last month.
Why does May seem like two years ago now? Why does my recently‐finished writing retreat feel like an alternate universe?
Alas, tough questions and mixed‐up senses for a late night. Meanwhile, my bed beckons. I anticipate a wonderful night of sleep on the one mattress that knows all my body’s nooks and crannies.
Tomorrow, one last look at my recent past with a preview of my blogging future.
Tonight marks my shortest RoadBroad post. You understand why?
Melanie and I started the first leg of our journey home back early on Friday, June 15th. I specify the date, because it is now 1:28 a.m. on June 16th. Blogging during the early morning hours definitely has its advantages. I will sleep when I get home. Now I am still on an adventure.
We said good‐bye to the townhouse that has been our home away for the past two weeks. Our handy AAA Trip Tik held tightly in my hands. We also have phones with GPS. What could possibly go wrong?
Driving away from Boulder, I take one last look at the Flatirons and all of the other mountain ranges. In the distance are mountains shrouded in a blue haze that I am told is from some distant wild fires. I see the warnings about fire bans as we drive down the freeway.
When we find ourselves in Trinidad, Colorado, we decide to stop for caffeine, a chance to stretch our legs and gas up the car. By using my smart phone, I see that there is exactly one Starbucks in Trinidad. What I didn’t realize is that the Starbucks is located in a Safeway Store.
Can you see the Starbucks? Neither could we. We drove past it once and almost twice. Finally Melanie noticed the familiar Starbucks lady in the window. Now can you find it?
It’s there and thanks to Melanie, I got coffee, she got tea. What we also found out is that Trinidad is a very interesting town with tons of history. It might be fun to explore this town during some future road trip. However, we are on our way to Canyon, Texas.
Yes, in one day we left Colorado, drove through New Mexico and finally arrived back in Texas. Now all we have to do is find the town of Canyon and check into our hotel. We are going to Palo Duro Canyon to see a show called “Texas”.
Okay, it was my fault. When we were looking for Canyon, I instructed Melanie to turn left when she should have turned right. Oops. I am such a city chick. The scenery on this journey has been so beautiful, but the Texas Panhandle really is wide open country.
Well, I managed to get us off on a wild goose chase for about 45 minutes. Where we thought we were going to have about an hour at the hotel to rest and freshen up, we had about 15 minutes. Melanie was very gracious about my mistake. Did I mention that we had a AAA Trip Tik and two phone with GPS? There is nothing RoadBroads enjoy more than a good adventure!
Then we got to Palo Duro Canyon. Melanie told me that this show was at the bottom of the Canyon and that this Canyon was the 2nd largest Canyon in the United States. I am such a “city chick”. What I found out was that this show was at the actual bottom of the canyon! Who knew? It was a steep descent with a lot of curvy roads. Yet, we made it, had dinner and saw a really interesting show about the history of the Texas Panhandle. Here is a picture of the stage…at the bottom of the Canyon.….
As exciting as the show was, I also loved just looking up at the stars. It was a beautiful night with a cool breeze and more stars than I ever get to see among the bright lights of Houston. That alone made the whole trip to see this show worthwhile.
Tomorrow we take off on the road again. We are paying attention to the weather that is being predicted for Houston this weekend. Lots of rain. Something I have not seen since taking off on the road.
Tomorrow, Ellen and I awake before sunrise and say “adieu” to Boulder, exchanging our temporary abode for Home.
Despite two enchanting weeks here, I miss the comfort, familiarity, and routines of my Sugar Land home. Most especially life with my kind and generous DH! Still, there’s a magic that only Boulder can generate. That’s a major admission for this Taos passion‐ista.
That heart‐thumping magic manifested itself again today, this time in hyper‐productive form. Ellen and I wrote like storytelling fiends all day. I took a short break to lunch with special family members from Ft. Collins (shout‐out to ML, D & E) and returned to complete significant progress on my WIP (‘work in progress’).
Perhaps we’re both desperate for a few more hours of clear, clean storytelling. Remnants of a tropical wave await our Sunday return to Houston. But first, any worries surrounding rainfall yet to arrive comes afterwhat lies immediately ahead: 20 hours of weekend driving across three states. How do you hold onto the magic of a writing retreat amid the potential train of contained chaos coming toward us?
It begins with remembering. And here are mine — to remember tonight, across the next two days, and onto the life yet to come — the most powerful learnings of a ten‐day writing retreat.
While it’s trite, it’s that because it’s true: persistence pays off. Evidence: seven years of periodic work on a single essay yields finalist status. This pumps the ego to keep working hard on this novel that’s talked to me for 11 long, busy years.
The craft of writing requires a lifetime of learning and devotion, a commitment I renewed in these Colorado mountains. Those who claim mastery follows 10,000 hours of practice are naive. If you’re good at storytelling, mastery never comes because you refuse to stop learning.
Community enriches a writer’s life and all her projects. To wit:
Members of the Wednesday Houston group celebrate crafting stories together since January, 2017. The Boulder retreat marked the first time we five have bonded in such an extended, intensive writing experience. Our writing Wednesdays will never be the same!
It’s one thing to have a writing community in the town where you live. I’m beyond blessed to be involved with three such special groups.
To come to a writing retreat in another state and discover six storytelling soulmates is beyond a blessing. It’s grace in action, a concept our beloved Max Regan talks about. It’s a grace that comes not because you seek it. Instead, this kind of special grace finds you and touches you gently — and silently — on your shoulder when you’re not looking. Sweet.
4. Living a life as a full‐time writer is worth the energy it demands. I return to Houston changed and committed. There’s a project awaiting my completion with an audience awaiting my story and a supportive crowd cheering every mile marker I pass. In eleven years of working on my debut novel, I’ve never felt so energized. It’s that Boulder air.
For the light‐hearted learnings, it’s:
Friends can remain friends even after sharing house for ten days.
Colorado trees and my nose are not friends. Not going to happen. Ever.
Never buy unbranded gasoline. Unless you want a coach rescue.
Whatever you do, don’t kill the dog. Oops, that’s a big sorrysorry to my ex.
One of these blog posts, I’ll figure out how to do bulleted numbers that look right on your screen. That’s a big sorrysorry to you, dear reader.
For now, it’s dinnertime followed by packing all those things I had to haul to the mountains. All those vitals I never touched.
Bedtime will be late tonight, like another evening two weeks ago. Alas, I never learn. When sleep comes, it will no doubt offer another “journey proud” evening. Allie smiles from her perch.
Two days of driving is enough to put anyone on edge a little, eh? Begging forgiveness in advance from Ellen, fellow RoadBroad and car mate. Next I suggest: let’s go home, renewed.
NOTE: This is the second in a series of guest blog posts. Today’s guest blogger is Diana Galindo, who we lovingly dubbed our newest RoadBroad. She shared our Boulder house after riding with us from Denver. Together, we three journeyed all over Boulder, traveling by car, bus, or foot depending on the road crisis du jour (and yes, there were several).
Diana Galindo was born in Cochabamba, Bolivia. She divides her time between her beloved Cochabamba and the home she shares in Houston with her daughter and husband. Diana is writing a historical fiction novel inspired by her Bolivian family. She also blogs about food and health, sharing recipes and menus as a path to wellness at www.colormyfood.com.
Thank you, Diana, for joining our RoadBroads blog today!
Effusive red, pink, yellow and white roses led up to the Dushanbe Teahouse. The beautiful ceramic tile exterior and hand‐carved columns, the workmanship of more than 40 Tajik artists, make it a perfect setting for creative energy. Presented to Boulder’s by its sister city Dushanbe (capital of Tajikistan), it upholds the ancient tradition of Central Asian teahouses as gathering places. Just as travelers of the Silk Road met in teahouses across Tajikistan, to our table this summer evening arrived travelers from the east and west coasts, from Texas and Colorado. The exotic cuisine with flavorprints from around the globe was a sensory feast and invited our imagination. The stage was set. For the next ten days this Writer’s Retreat put our identity as writers in the center of our lives.
The next morning I arrived at the Boulder Bookstore. Where Dushanbe Teahouse had delighted my senses and teased my imagination, the Boulder Bookstore gave me a sense of homecoming. My soul stirred as I entered the old building lined with bookshelves, Books beckoned; I couldn’t resist stepping closer to the shelves and noticed that dozens of books had “Staff Recommends” notes. Fascinated I quickly skimmed a few, but conscious that the first writing session was beginning, I headed upstairs scanning bookshelves that surrounded me every step of the way to the far end of the second floor. In an enclave to the right was a long table. Max Regan, our writing coach, greeted each of us with his characteristic enthusiasm.
Max invited us to practice active deep listening, to put presence before productivity, to consider mastery as a curved line of constant pursuit and continuation as accomplishment. He had us list things we’ve accomplished as writers thus fueling the positive from the onset.
Oh the joy and gratitude for the next 10 days! We explored cartography, mapping out our writing projects, from utopian maps where “here be dragons”, to navigational maps with intentional waypoints for a readers’ journey. “Sometimes we need to explore vast territories before we can draw our map. The exploration is what changes us as writers. The journey is what changes the reader,“ said Max.
Our days had a rhythm – Small Group sessions, extensive chunks of personal writing time, one‐on‐one coaching with Max.
In Small Group we worked on dialogue, character and setting.
What is the moment that matters in each chapter?
What experience do we want our reader to have?
How do we use dialogue in this scene?
How is the protagonist transformed?
We practiced experiential techniques and tapped into the braintrust of the group to strengthen a story, solve a problem, flush out a character.
Evenings we shared dinner and participated in a time‐honored salon. Beginning in the Enlightenment, salons were artistic and intellectual gatherings. The sense of community and trust made our current salons a highlight of the retreat. Writers would read from their text, ask an author question and receive feedback to help shape and strengthen their work.
As our Writer’s Retreat came to an end, Max asked us to reflect on how we spent the week. “ What did you learn about yourself as a writer? What works? What doesn’t?”
He invited us to integrate the next steps of our project with a calendar and reminds us, “Breathe into the idea that not everything is a book.” In closing, Max said, “Do not lose what you found here in Boulder. If you lose it, it’s a choice,” then left us with a quote from Mark Nepo: Effort only readies us for grace as grace can never be planned or willed only entered.
I entered grace these past ten days and I stay focused on continuation as accomplishment, profoundly grateful for the benefit of Max’s teaching.
If this amazing opportunity sounds tempting, registration for the 2019 Boulder Writer’s Retreat opens July 1st. Please find details here:
My assignment at 7 p.m. last night was to sleep for a few hours then awake and post here.
It’s 4:30 a.m.
Ahem.…that’s a little later than planned. Yet, the last 9.5 hours marked my best sleep of the past two weeks. And I’m still groggy. As in my body’s not done with its 40 winks tonight/this morning.
There’s a message here: my body needs a major rest. Two stimulating weeks involving a 1300‐mile road trip and an hyper‐invigorating writing retreat will cry out for good sleep at some point. That point came last night.
But…it’s my turn to post on RoadBroads. I promised Ellen.
I arise out of commitment, devotion, and frustration. Continued sleep will elude until the third necessary is answered.
Thus, dear reader, I offer preliminary pictures from yesterday’s Denver excursion. They provide partial explanation for the good‐tired.
Linger Restaurant was a must‐stop for a pair of ladies with a Memphis funeral business in the family heritage. We refilled our water from brown bottles once used for organ storage and ordered drinks from an old metal patient chart. Toe tags used to mark the drinks but they were gone yesterday. Too macabre a memory for some? I missed that part of the adventure.
It’s back to bed I go, the call of duty answered, potential guilt assuaged.
Tomorrow — oops, make that today’s — post will focus on my learnings from a writing retreat. First is how to manage this ongoing body‐mind hum.
I had my last and final meeting with Max for this year’s writers retreat. Sniff, Sniff. At least we met once again in the beautiful Dushanbe Teahouse.
It was a good meeting. We reviewed much of what had been covered during the retreat classes. We discussed both of my writing projects and the kind of writing structure I would maintain once I return to Houston.
In addition to learning and practicing new writing craft skills, I have the following takeaways from this 10 day adventure:
The craft of writing is a life‐long endeavor. During this retreat, I read things I wrote several years ago and I can see where I have grown and evolved with craft skills.
Community really does enrich a writer’s life. Whether it is attending a retreat, attending a class back in Houston at the Spectrum Center, or just getting together at a coffee shop or in someone’s home, writers can really encourage and help each other.
I have learned how to truly live as a writer. My hobby has now been elevated to a passion. The next year is going to be great fun.
After I finished my meeting with Max, I got a table and sat down for a tasty lunch. The entire inside of Dushanbe Teahouse is a work of art. Here is the statue that I had the honor of sitting next to as I ate:
After lunch, I strolled once again down Pearl Street and did a little shopping. Since I had an elephant as one of my writing prompts here at the retreat, I found an onyx one in a local store. That along with two rose quartz hearts completed my purchase. Now I have an elephant totem and pieces of the heart of Boulder to take back with me to Houston.
Tomorrow will be a special day. I get to visit with my niece who lives in Denver. We have not seen each other since she graduated from high school. At this point she has been out of college for several years. I am looking forward to catching up with her.
NOTE: For a fun change of pace, we invited several of our fellow retreat writers to write guest posts for our blog.
Here’s the first such post. It comes courtesy of our dear friend and fellow writer, Dorothy Van Soest. She has written three novels and is actively writing her fourth. Check out her work at dorothyvansoest.com. In a previous life, Dorothy chaired the Department of Social Work at the University of Washington in Seattle.
Thank you, Dorothy, for joining our RoadBroads team today!
To subscribe to the RoadBroads blog, check each box that has a storefront in it. Check. Check. Check.
I click on the continue icon. The words “try again” pop up on my computer screen. What? How could I have failed such a simple test? I try again.
This time the instructions are different. Check each box that has a road sign in it. Sounds easy enough. But I’m nervous. What if I fail again?
I click on a box that clearly has a street sign on it. No problem. But what about the box with only a partial street sign on it. Does that count? Should I check it? I take the chance. A few more checks and I hold my breath, then click the continue button. I passed! I’m in!
I go to the blog and start reading. Trust me, it is worth it!
What a delight to join the trek of two women across three states, from Houston to Boulder.
What a grand accounting of their experiences in Boulder, the taste of the town, the challenges and joys of being here, what it’s like to be in community with fellow writers of which I am honored to be a member.
What a delight it is to open an email every morning that directs me to their latest adventures.
Thank you, Melanie and Ellen, for bringing us all into your lives and experiences.
And for those of you who are thinking of subscribing, believe me it’s worth it, even if you have to try…and try again.
Here is my daily picture of the Flatirons. I just can’t get enough of those mountains.
I took this picture last night at the Chautauqua Park here in Boulder. I had a wonderful dinner there with friends. It was cool enough to sit outside and enjoy a fresh breeze. Some of us drank champagne to toast ourselves as writers. I also had a chocolate martini.…chocolate, yes, a theme that will carry through all day today.
This morning I was back at the Boulder Bookstore bright and early for my last small group meeting of this writing retreat. I knew this time would fly by so fast. My great American novel is not finished yet. We had a very good class today as we discussed where we go from here. I am pleased with where I am. Like I wrote earlier, I feel like I have my arms around this project and a timeline for completing it by the end of the year.
To reward myself for what I have accomplished since June 1st, I decide that tonight I can take some time off from the book project and write a short story. Usually when I write short stories, I am working on developing a character who just happens to be a grim reaper. This is more in the genre of Science Fiction or Fantasy. I may or may not ever publish these short stories, but they amuse me.
After class I wandered once more around the Pearl Street Mall. I found a most wonderful shop called “Peace, Love and Chocolate”. Oh my! There I had a 4 ounce cup of dark sipping chocolate. Magnificent!
That was 4 ounces of pure heaven. I sipped slowly. I watched other tourists come in and purchase their chocolate delights. Never had I enjoyed such a simple treat as what I found in this cup. The way the light shows up in this picture, it almost seems as though the gods and goddesses are smiling down on my brief afternoon respite. I hope to visit this miraculous spot again before I leave Boulder.
I drag myself away from chocolate heaven and return to the townhouse. Now I will sit down with my favorite non‐fiction character, the grim reaper, and see what kind of tale I can weave tonight.
Allergy: Welcome to the yellow pollen and white wispys now attacking Boulder. Even my car has taken on new hues.
I call them “white whispys” because they don’t stay still for photos. Instead, these feathery bits float around in the air like ephemeral angels (devils?), unnoticed until the sneezing and red eye begin. I thought they were pretty. Until Thursday morning.
It was my fifth morning of four mile walks. A speedwalk on Elmer’s 2 Mile Path devolved into sudden paroxysms of sneezing. Why am I sneezing? Then the teary gushers with itchy red eye began. On my return to the townhouse, I noticed the yellow pollen blanketing my orange car. When I caught me in the bathroom mirror, even I was afraid.
The delightful millenial barista at the Pekoe Sip House proclaimed similar agonies when I explained my junkie eyes. She said blame the oaks for the yellow pollen then curse the dogwoods for the white whispys.
The why of the what matters less than the cure. First, it’s load up on tissues, nose sprays, and eye drops. Second, it’s leave town to head south where after 34 years, my body is well‐acclimated to Houston’s tree floaties.
Auto: My Subaru Forrester died in traffic only hours after the allergy attack. It took Magic Max of our Summer Writing Retreat fame only minutes to get the car (and its two women travelers) safely out of rush hour traffic and parked back at the townhouse.
I met my two BNF’s, as in Best New Friends, this morning: Eric from Triple A who linked with Phil of Hoshi Motors, Yes, that’s two bald commercial endorsements. How many mechanics have you met who will build a list of best gas stations in town to help you avoid another misadventure?
Everything checked out: battery, starter, alternator, transmission, blah‐blah‐blah. Even my homeboy mechanic was perplexed, and he did a thorough car check pre‐road‐trip. Best guess of these three mechanics? Bad gas from an off‐brand service station and a quirky car unused to mountain driving in summer temperatures.
Two learnings emerged from today’s RoadBroad misadventure. If you’re a woman, both can help you.
Don’t buy gasoline from off‐brand stations, especially when you’re on the road. Brand means the major oil companies such as Conoco, Exxon, Shell, etc. What’s four cents a gallon saved today when the engine quits tomorrow?
If you’re stuck in traffic with a malfunctioning car engine, try these Magic Max tricks, in this order:
1. Turn off the engine.
2. Pump the gas pedal twice (or more, but don’t flood the engine).
3. Turn on the engine until it “catches.”
4. Rev the engine for several minutes.
5. Your car should be drivable now. If not, your car has a different problem.
Thank you, Max Regan!
Aspergas: The morning’s car drama preceded our regular two‐hour small group writing class. Only at 12 noon did I realized I had not eaten since consuming a mango popsicle at our Thursday night salon. At a quirky Pearl Street restaurant, I ordered an egg white fritatta.
What you don’t see is the surprise vegetable sandwiched amid the gorgeous arugula that tops the crepe‐style egg white underneath.
You know this vegetable as asparagus.
I call it Aspergas. It should be regulated by the E.P.A. as a toxic substance. It is the most awful vegetable known to sentient beings. This truth has something to do with my mother’s inability to undercook it, causing aspergas fumes to permeate our entire house. For days. As a result: I. Do. Not. Eat. Aspergas. Or Asparagus.
Only after I bit into a thick wad of arugula on my fork did I taste the Aspergas. But it tasted different, and it was OMG good. I left nothing on the plate.
I reported the experience to DH. He was stunned. A first. After 34 years.
Art: Whlle eating my Aspergas surprise, I made art.
When I had entered the restaurant, I noticed a crayon basket on the table behind the restaurant hostess. I asked for two crayons, plus a puzzle page. She did a double‐take. Not many 61‐year‐olds request art time while dining?
I thought of Pat Clark, my dear writer friend who taught me about how art can heal during rough times. I needed ease after my allergy/auto misadventure. Pat’s clever Kindergarten Art morphed into my Crayon Art today.
I felt so much better when I finished.
Thank you, Pat!
Aspergas and Art.
A healing combination after Allergies and Autos.
P.S. My longest post as a RoadBroad. Forgive the windy! I hope you’ve enjoyed this read, even as you’ve learned something. That’s our goal.