Author Archives: Jane Bretl

the dead language?

03 Wednesday Mar 2010

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I took Latin in high school.  It was part of my master plan to start with Latin, as the basis for learning several of the Romance languages.  You know — Italian, French, Spanish…  because I would use all of those someday.  Because at age 14, everything seemed possible and there was so much time coming down the pike that throwing in a few extra languages should not be a problem as I launched my brilliant career.

It’s only been a little over thirty years, and I have not gotten around to that little romance language project yet, but no worries.  I still have the podcast Italian language course on my ipod, and if I get right on that, I’ll be caught up in no time.

But, back to Latin.  Sure, it was considered a “dead language”.  It did not have any applicability to what would turn out to be a career in marketing management and the food industry, which made Latin a nonsensical curriculum choice in the 1980’s.  But at the time, it represented endless possibilities.

Here we are decades later, and the trip to Rome brought me back to those Latin classes over and over.  Not that I could read most of the Latin inscriptions on the monuments and the art.  My conversational Latin had been limited to phrases such as “The girl is standing by the aqueduct”, which does not come up much.  Because we did not go see the aqueduct.  Otherwise I would have been set.

We did see the Tiber River, and that always figured prominently in the lessons:  “Romulus and Remus sat by the Tiber River…”, that kind of thing.  The Tiber looked just as I had pictured.  A no-nonsense kind of river.  That’s why I took a picture of a bridge instead of the brown water.

And this little guy has been watching over the river since before high school Latin classes were invented.

Romulus and Remus are popular figures in the art and lore of Rome.  Their likenesses grace many postcards and are sold at most souvenir stands, along with their “mother”.  According to Roman mythology, they are the traditional founders of Rome.  In addition, they hold the distinction of being “pre-eminent among the famous feral children in mythology and fiction”, or so says wikipedia.  And that is saying something, because those feral children can get quite famous.  Which all just serves to remind me that when they say truth is stranger than fiction?  Sometimes it is true, but not always.

And the Latin?  It turns out it is not dead yet.  More on that later.

back on the horse

02 Tuesday Mar 2010

Posted by in Foodies, Motherhood

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Well, hello there.

I am back from our trip to Rome.  It was a fascinating trip, full of surprises and lots of fabulous food and one late hiccup in the plan.  We had never been away from the kids for a full week, and to land 5000 miles away pushed me out to the edge of my parental comfort zone.  The edge is a good place to be sometimes.  For all involved.  But that umbilical cord…  now, I’m sure you know that I do not mean the one that connected me to each of them at birth, because we did cut that one.  I mean the unseen cord that stretches from my heart to theirs, and boy oh boy, it stretched until it hurt.

Of course, eating gelato by the Trevi Fountain with people I love did help me get over it for the moment, as did one great meal after another.  I love to experience all the local specialties when I travel, and Rome had some great and memorable ones.

I was put in charge of choosing the restaurants (my pleasure), and communicating with all taxi drivers (mixed results).  I did a crash course of Italian for Travelers before I left, but when put in a pressure situation, it all flew out of my head, except to tell them that “I am learning Italian, but I do not speak much”.  I think I said that to everyone, no matter what they said to me.  May have made them wonder what exactly I was learning in Italian.  The other strategy was to say “Prego” at any time, since it seemed to have 12 innocuous meanings.  In retrospect, I did OK at the communicating part, and we ended up where we were going.  But maybe that is not saying much.

Other than the food, one of my favorite parts was strolling (roaming?) down the narrow back streets and impossibly narrow alleys, looking at the architecture above and the well-worn cobble streets under my feet.  The knowledge that we could be run down by a zooming Smartcar at any moment just added to the excitement.  I actually ran into one moving car (versus the other way around) but neither of us suffered any damage.

International intrigue, jane-style!  I am not a high adrenaline kind of gal.

Unless you count eating  Rigatoni con la Pajata, pasta with a sauce of milk-fed calf’s intestine cooked with tomatoes, salt pork, garlic and spices, and topped with grated Pecorino cheese.  This was seriously one of my very favorite dishes.  Amazing, complex flavor.  Romans are known as “popolo mangereccio” (people who are fond of eating) and this apparently includes a fondness of eating every part of the animal, and I have to agree it is tasty.  (Even better than Pork Belly Tacos from Mexico.)

I leave you today with a sense of relief that a tumultuous February has ended, and for me each month starts with a brand new shiny day called the 1st, which has always felt like a new start to me.  Start by starting.  And remember all the good things along the way.

what’s in your in-box?

31 Sunday Jan 2010

Posted by in Photography, something important, I'm sure

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I was cleaning out my in-boxes (the email one and the one with papers overflowing), when I found something I’d like to share.

Wait, that is just a picture of my in-box, along with a reminder to remember the important things in life.  Here is what I really want to share — a video that reminds me of someone special.

Now, there are harmonica players, and then there are harmonica players.  I have my favorite harmonica musician, but this guy isn’t bad either.  Enjoy the music! (Doesn’t it make you want to take a deep breath?)

Kids — you can try this at home.  Grandpas — make sure you have an oxygen tank handy first.

one word

29 Friday Jan 2010

Posted by in Writing

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“Dreams are illustrations… from the book your soul is writing about you.”   Marsha Norman

Can one little word provide some vision for a whole year?

I stumbled upon the idea of this ‘one word‘ while reading author Christina Katz’s new site.  She moved her “WriterMama Riffs” blog over to ChristinaKatz.com.     Christina chose her one word for 2010 — Prosperous.  That is a good word.  It has connotations of not only copious output, but also well-earned income to go with it, always a bonus when doing something you love to do.

Through Christina Katz’s word I found blogger Ali Edwards.  (One of the things I like best about these things is that one writer’s ideas lead to more ideas and on it goes and grows…)  In Ali’s blog, she shares  One Little Word 2010.  Here is her explanation:

“Essentially the idea is to choose a word (or let it choose you) that has the potential to make an impact on your life.

Maybe you want to invite something or maybe you are hoping to subtract something. Maybe your word will be practical or hopeful or creative or fanciful. Maybe you need a big word, something in-your-face that will challenge you everyday. Maybe you need something smaller and quieter that will whisper gentle tidings as you make your way throughout the year.

Whatever word you end up with, make sure it is your word (not your sister’s, mom’s, partner’s, child’s, etc). You can share it publicly or keep it close to your heart.”

Hundreds of her readers commented on their one word for 2010, and Ali published a list of her readers’ words. I find the list thought-provoking and inspiring.

I did not know what my word was a year ago, in the first month of 2009.  Forced to choose back then, I may have volunteered the word “Bewildered”.  Or “Ready To Step Off The Precipice Of The Known”.  Wait, that last one is way too many words.  Maybe “Embark”?

With the clearer view afforded by hindsight, I can now see that my word was “Exploration”.  I started the year with a plan to write children’s books (age 4-8), so I was learning all I could about that genre.  Then I received the exciting news that one of my short stories would be published in an anthology, so I also learned as much as I could about that genre.  Then I discovered blogging, and threw myself wholeheartedly into learning that bright new world.  Then I researched the options of freelancing for magazines and newspapers, writing humor essays and finally rounded out the year by writing a 50,000 word NaNoWriMo draft of a middle grade children’s novel.  So 2009 ended with a great deal of ground covered, a lot of information crammed into my head, and I softly landed somewhere between a lack of focus and a world of possibility.

I finish January, my first blogiversary, with many lessons learned…  The discipline required when granted the gift to do what I love to do but damn I don’t feel like doing it now but I have to do it anyway because it is important for me to write every day to reach my dreams.   Moving beyond the guilt inherent in that previous sentence.  Learning where I have a natural aptitude, and what will actually pay, and how to combine the two.  Sorting what currency in which I want to be paid — money, confidence, fulfillment — and how to combine all three.

A year ago, I read a blog post from a writer that I now cannot find.  In my memory, it was brilliant, and I want to quote it here because it completely describes in a humorous but honest way, how she made it through this same phase. It had the power to stick in my head for a year, in the way that words can do when they speak to your soul.

But I can’t find her.

Still obsessing Moving on, I’ll share the essence of her story: she wrote of ‘blind-dates’ with many genres of writing, and having each genre, time after time, not be “the one”.  She would fall feverishly in love with each one for a while, but then would see the foibles and faults and know she had to keep looking.  But if she had not given each one a try, she wouldn’t know what felt right when she found it.  Which she did.

Dang, the analogy was so much better than that.

Thinking about the next year, I am still on that path of searching and exploring.  But my choice for my one word in 2010?  Embrace.

Embrace the gift.  Embrace the challenges.  Embrace the unknown.  Embrace inevitable failure.  Embrace inevitable success.  Embrace the discipline I must muster.  Embrace the journey, even though I may not know the destination until I find it.

What’s your word?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are we going?  Good question.  I’ll know it when I see it.”   Anonymous

guest blogger: Cheryl Conway-Nelson

27 Wednesday Jan 2010

Posted by in Motherhood

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Today’s guest post is from woman-extraordinaire Cheryl Conway-Nelson.  I am not sure how to spell ‘extraordinaire’, and when I looked it up in the dictionary, it was not there:  it should be, sandwiched between extracurricular and extrasensory.  Her picture would be in there too, next to the definition, for balancing five kids, volunteerism, community causes, political activism, sweetness-meters and lots of wet socks.  I don’t know where she manufactures time (I suspect in her basement) but I would sure like to find out.  Since we finally received another dusting of snow here, it is time to share her thoughts on the white stuff.

I met Jane three years ago when I had the good fortune to be redistricted to
a new school.  She and I have a lot in common.  We both have brown hair,
wear glasses and totally rock the motherly figure.  We both jumped into
being first year Lego Robotics coaches.  We both have 6th grade boys with
similar interests.  We’re both northerners, and we share a friendly Bears v.
Packers rivalry.  (Bears Rule!)

We do have our differences too.  Jane is an amazing gardener.  I choose
garden flora designed by God to be unkillable. (not azaleas or hydrangeas
FYI).  She is a Cheesehead and I am a FIB.  And Jane is the nicest, most
sweet person I know.  On the sweetness meter, I’m in the negative numbers.
So when the topic of guest blogging came up while chaperoning on a bus ride
to the Cincinnati Museum Center, I should have known she would follow
through.

(Ed. note: “eventually”.)

So here I sit contemplating a topic when I happened to read Jane’s recent
entry about snow.  Then it hit me. Nowhere does our divergence on the
sweetness meter become more apparent than in looking at snow.  Jane looks at
the beautiful snowflakes and sees a peaceful snow globe.  I look at them and
see 10 wet boots, 10 wet gloves, 10 semi wet gloves, 5 wet hats, whatever
wet clothes their friends leave behind, at least 2 kids crying that they
can’t feel their *insert valuable appendage here* and puddles on parquet and
Pergo.  Oh the puddles.  With five kids, a snow day is a nightmare.  Winter
shock and awe.

For the record, I love snow.  Some day I imagine I will again appreciate the
inherent beauty of a peaceful snowfall like I used to, but not now.  I’ve
got to get back to loading the dryer and mopping the puddles.

Thanks Jane for giving me an opportunity to dust off the English major and
take her for a spin!

Thank you Cheryl, for stopping by with what sure sound like awfully nice words.  It is reassuring to see that the facade of sweetness* I try to keep propped in place is still standing (although with five kids I suspect that you are too busy to notice when it is askew.)

*and for the record, Bears drool.

almost dark

26 Tuesday Jan 2010

Posted by in Motherhood, seasons

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Late one afternoon, two boys came bounding off the school bus, ready to head to the sledding hill.  The snow was perfect, and they wanted to take in every minute of daylight.  Contrary to the number of “snow days” we have here, there is not that much snow;  between the icy-snow, the too-wet-slushy-snow, and the quickly-disappearing-snow, sledding days are few and far between.

I have never seen these two fine young people get dressed for the outdoors so quickly and efficiently.  Usually someone can’t get a boot over his scruppled sock, or can’t do this or something-or-another, but that day it was effortless.

“Have fun!  Just be back before dark,” I called after them as they grabbed the sleds from the garage, already at a full sprint.

The Professor came back at what could arguably be the most exact definition of ‘before dark’, as if he had taken the precise time of sunset, the current moon phase and amount of cloud cover into consideration when determining his entrance.  He came through the door just as darkness appeared to fall on that white snow.

After the typical pleasantries were exchanged, I inquired “Where’s your brother?”

“He didn’t think it was dark yet.”

Now at this point, I was just curious.  When, exactly, would The Little One think it was dark?  If this wasn’t dark, what was???  This sounded like a loophole, and finding loopholes is one of his specialities.

5:45 rolled around, then 6:00, then 6:15.  From my biased view in the warm kitchen (actually cooking dinner), it still looked quite dark outside to me.  Finally at 6:20, he came bursting in the door.  “That was so FUN!  The snow was perfect!  Yada, yada, yada blahblahblah……”  I wasn’t listening.  I had morphed into Mrs. PotatoHead with my angry eyes on.  Not because it was that late, or that I was worried about his safety, because I wasn’t — it was that he had blatantly disobeyed my instructions to be home before, well, you know.

“But, Mom — it wasn’t really dark yet!”  It was his story and he was sticking to it.  Like I could not look out the window with my Mrs. PotatoHead interchangeable accessories and see night for myself.

After a discussion of consequences for his less-than-stellar choice toward darkness-perception, we settled into a fine evening.

A fate would have it, the next evening I found myself outside at 6:15.  Inside, as I bundled up in my coat and gloves, a cursory glance out the window and I knew it was dark.  “I know dark when I see dark, mumble grumble…” I muttered under my breath as I opened the garage door and stepped outside into the crisp night air.  But out there on the driveway under the clear sky?  Umm, I have to say, it wasn’t what I thought.  I saw the last pink ribbons of sunset on the western horizon.  At 6:15.

Now, I love how the Professor is so literal.  His desire to follow the rules lends me a (probably false) sense of security as we coast into these teen years.  Somehow I feel I will have less to worry about with him when he is in high school.  I like knowing what to expect from him, and he feels the same way about me.

But I also love how The Little One is so full of surprises… How to squeeze a little more fun out of the moment.  How he can fly by the seat of his pants, even down the sledding hill.  How when it is almost dark, it isn’t quite dark yet, exactly.

These two boys, the ying and yang, they both remind me every day that no matter how dark it may look at first glance, it is never quite as dark as it seems.  And even if it was, I’d be fine as long as I have them bursting through the door.

it’s a dog’s life

20 Wednesday Jan 2010

Posted by in get along like cats and dogs

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It is the dog’s ‘birthday’.

Since she was a rescue puppy, we don’t know the actual date of her birth.  But, like most things in life, it works just as well if we just pick a day and stick with it.  So this is the dog’s special day.  Because every day isn’t a dog’s special day…. wait a minute, why are we doing this again?

Oh yeah, because we love that dog.

In years past, I baked her special doggie birthday muffins with bacon.  It turns out there is a medication for that.  I do not plan to bake her anything this year.

The muffin recipe idea came from an actual cookbook.  I think I paid money for that book, although the purchase would have been in the name of my cookbook collection, not with plans for extensive usage.  I did make a few things, back when I was in the first-dog-honeymoon phase.  Then some of the recipes called for beef liver liquified in a blender, but I just couldn’t go there.   Just as a note:  although there are many main dish options in this cookbook — ‘Gobble Down Goulash’ and ‘Pawsitively Pleasing Pasta’, for example —  there is no Kitten Pot Pie, which I expect, if given a menu she could read,  is the very entrée Kenzie would choose.

But who am I to suppose such a conclusion?  Let’s let her tell us what she really wants.

*

My Perfect Day

by The Dog

Sleep on (or in) the master bed with Big D, my head on Jane’s pillow.

Wake up to the aroma of the kids’ breakfast cooking downstairs — time to check out what the Little One dropped so far.

Do yoga stretches:  down dogggggggg, uuuuuuuuup dog…  ahhhh.  Roll over for belly rubs from Big D.

Wander downstairs to find that the basement door that normally seals me off from the cats’ food bowls?? It is inexplicably left wide open.  Whoa.

Finish all cat food in bowls, and all surrounding schnibblets on the floor.  Consider the treats kept in the box of litter (crunchy on the outside, chewy in the middle… ) but reconsider when I hear Jane making coffee.  She might drop some beans.  L-O-V-E coffee beans.

After a quick drink out of the toilet to wash it down (refreshing!), I go to the back door and scratch to be let out.

Run around maniacally in the back yard, chasing all birds and squirrels off of the bird feeders.  Hey — if this is my dream day?  I actually catch one for the first time.

Tastes like chicken.

Do my ‘business’ in Jane’s flower bed, then scratch my claws into the mud in that illogical dog behavior that looks like I am trying to cover it up but I never do.  The mud feels good on my paws.  Hmmmm, what smells so GOOD out here today?

Scout out location of some possum poo for rolling in later.  No, now.  No, later.  No, must do now.  No, save it for later.  No — oh, I can’t decide.

Come running when Jane yells out the door “DON’T YOU DARE ROLL IN THAT!”  Puzzle for just a moment — how does she know I am about to roll in something pleasantly pungent?  Wasn’t she making coffee?

Come trotting in nonchalantly and go to food bowl to pretend that I never ate all the cat food and therefore I am hungry for my breakfast.

Refuse to eat dry dog food breakfast until canned food is mixed in.  (C’mon man, it is my birthday after all!)

Scratch at front door this time.

7.3 seconds after door closes, bark to come back in.

Stare at Jane sitting at computer, writing with a cat on her lap.

“Long walk, please.”

Feel dumbfounded that Jane has such lousy hearing.  I can hear the Fed Ex man drop a paper clip in his truck 10 houses away, but she is so human.

Momentarily distracted by squirrel on the suet feeder by the window.  That squirrel makes me very agitated.

Back to Jane.   Still typing.  Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a little while….

{6 hours later…}

What, huh? What time is it?  ~yawn~  Almost time for dinner, that’s what time it is!

*

So, we love the dog a silly amount and we will enjoy her arbitrary special day and use it to remind us that all good things do come to an end so we can just enjoy every day with her now.  That was an awkward sentence but I think you know what I mean.  Her birthday will include an actual walk in that dream day somewhere.  If we find a squished roadkill furry woodland animal on the road, I will let her sniff it this time (but not roll on it).  And she’ll get lots of love.  And, possibly, some wet dog food mixed with rice and sculpted into a squirrel for dinner.  Something that can hold a candle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In fond memory of our good dog friend Angel, who passed away a week ago today and would have loved to share a birthday squirrel with Kenzie.  She was much loved and is missed.

“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”

Will Rogers, 1897 – 1935

snow globe

08 Friday Jan 2010

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It is snowing.  Big, lumpy clumps of snow flakes, the kind that makes it look like the neighborhood was a giant snowglobe tipped upside down at some point last night, then set back down very gently this morning right before the alarm went off.  It is beautiful.  Sure wish I could find the connector cord to my camera so I could show you a photo.  Hmmmph.

The Little One collects snowglobes.  I find it an unlikely collection for a rough-and-tumble sort of kid.  Then again, we never know what they are going to turn into next, do we?   At any rate, he is excited about the snowglobiness of the view outside.  We stood next to each other and pretended we were inside the snowglobe, and someone up in the sky was looking in.  Kinda fun for a while.  (A little creepy after the concept sank in.)

It looks like a snow day, but it is not a snow day.  It is a two-hour-bus-delay day.  Which, considering we have had two snow days already this week?  And they have actually gone to school only two days since December 18th?  I think they should go give it a try.

bangs or no bangs?

04 Monday Jan 2010

Posted by in Writing

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New year, new look.

Inspired by a recent post from Jane Friedman of Writer’s Digest, I did a little cyber redecorating again. Her guest post, “5 Things That Make Me Stop Reading Websites and Blogs” appeared on the blog Writer Unboxed.  In it, she outlines a few easy blog fixes that can help ensure an online reader will stick around long enough to read the good content.  And I always trust her advice.  As she explains,

“I’ve been compiling best tweets for writers for half a year now, and have scanned tens of thousands of blog postings and homepages, all by following a Tweeted link.

Just as I have a sense about whether a manuscript will be any good in the first few minutes, now I have the same gut feel about blog posts. Only it takes seconds.”

Online or in print, there is just that moment to… at best, set that hook and at worst, make them turn away before they even see what is dangling there.

OK, good point.  I do want people to stick around long enough to hear what I have to say, at least when I am posting something other than ridiculous dog pictures.  Although I know my dear sister will always read to the end no matter what, I want to make these pages easy to read for everyone — even those with floaties, bifocals (oops, that’s me), web browsing smartphones, and yes, even those with illicit webpage access from your work computers (you know who you are).

Consider this bloggy change the equivalent of a new haircut — one that looks a little too much like my girlfriend’s haircut —  but if it suits us both, I’ll just wear a different barrette.

~~~~~~~~~~~

So, New Year, here we are.

What is out there that we have not paused to dream of yet?

peace on earth

30 Wednesday Dec 2009

Posted by in get along like cats and dogs

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I can’t tell you how unlikely this scenario would have been three months ago.

The dog and our dearly departed cat never had a fond relationship.  It was more akin to predator and prey.  Whatever undeciphered mixed breed of mutt we have, her DNA is hardwired to chase small furry animals.  So the new kittens must have looked like dog treats squeaky toys baby squirrels to the dog, and you can guess the delectability of small furry woodland animals, the same ones that taunt her in the backyard, just on the other side of her fence.

All of which makes these bedfellows all the more unlikely.

Admittedly, the dog has a “Just one little bite?  Pleeeease??” kind of look in her eyes.

Or perhaps it is really a look of “I hope none of the neighborhood dogs see this or I will be a laughingstock”.

“Perhaps if I feign disinterest, the cat will just leave.”

“No such luck.  Yawns are just contagious.”

Hmmmmm.

A Christmas miracle?  Just a warm spot on the couch?  My overactive anthropomorphizing imagination?

???

Whatever the reason, they remind me of a true sentiment of the season:

Peace on Earth

and goodwill among all.*

*even those who simply get along like cats and dogs