Secretariat

On Sunday the girl and I saw Secretariat. It was probably the best film I saw all year. Even the girl was glad I talked her into going. Now, I may be jaded because "Big Red" (that's Secretariat to you) has always held a special place in my heart.

My grandmother was a big time horse bettor. I mean big time. Every single day she would be found at Aqueduct, Belmont and when the ponies went upstate, Saratoga. When she would come over to our house she would always regal me with stories of how she came *this close* to the triple or how her jockey Angel Cordero fared that day. He could go from swell one day to a lousy piece of crap the next. She would act out her day for me, prancing around the living room with delighted screams and disgusted curses. She'd give me tips. "Never bet on a horse that takes a dump on the track. He's nervous. Never sit in the grandstand with all the riff-raff. You go for the extra couple of bucks and stay in the Clubhouse!" My mother would roll her eyes but I hung on her every word.

When Secretariat came to Belmont for the last leg of the triple crown in 1973 my grandmother was at the track. I wasn't there but I do remember watching the race on television. The whole Brooklyn neighborhood was abuzz over the horse of the year. I was particularly enthralled with him because my grandma had built him up like some superstar. We all rooted for him and when he won the whole block exploded with celebration. You would think the horse came from Bensonhurst instead of Virginia. By the way my grandmother didn't bet on him for two reasons -- he was the favorite so the payoff wouldn't be big and she couldn't stand his jockey, Ron Turcotte, aka that lousy French bastard, according to her.

Anyway, the movie itself was very inspirational. And not just because of the spectacular horse. I really related to his owner, Penny. When she took over her father's estate in the late 60's she had to put up with a lot of crap, what with being a woman and, gasp, a mere housewife. She never kowtowed to any of the men who tried to knock her down a peg. She stood her ground and she did what she felt was best. She took chances and wasn't afraid to fail. With no help from her husband or brother, she broke through the old-boys club. Secretariat wasn't the only winner. She was too. She reminded me of my grandmother, not the looks but her tenacity. During the 60's, betting at the horsetrack was a "man's sport" but my grandmother broke through. Not only did she hold her own and do well enough that she was able to go daily, but she was respected and yes, with her mouth, probably even feared.

There were quite a few memorable lines in the movie which I've already forgotten, but there was one that jolted me. It was something to the effect "in order to know how far you can go you have to run" or something similar. I might have garbled the words, but the message is clear. You'll never know what you can accomplish if you don't make an attempt. Even if you think you "failed" you probably really haven't since you've already gone further than you did if you hadn't tried. Excuse me now, I have a book I must finish editing...

Good Morning Sunshine

Good morning sunshine...



Enjoy the weekend.

"I Think He Was An Angel..."

My daughter has been working with two other classmates for the last month writing, acting in, and finally editing together a 12 minute piece for her mass communications class. It's been fraught with disaster after disaster -- too many to name. Undeterred, the girl has pushed on giving it her best. Over the weekend she completed her section. It is really funny -- she makes a great Harry Potter, - "My life sucks..." is the running theme of the piece. The girl is amazing on the I-Mac. It has a great editing program. The special effects astounds me, along with the talent the girl uses in applying them. She has convinced me upon graduation she must have an I-Mac for her field, and I'm hoping if I get her one she shows me how to edit on it.



Anyway, as usually happens when a group has to work together there's always one that leads and one that slacks. The grade given knows not who is who so if one pulls the team down the rest of them suffer. After all the hard work the girl has put into the piece there was no way she was going to let that happen. Although it was due yesterday, one of the group did not come in to school. Her piece was incomplete and she didn't care. My daughter did. Rather than have just a "crappy boring" middle piece sandwiched between the two effect-laden exciting ones my daughter took matters into her own hands. With the approval of her teacher she decided she would take the I-Mac home and complete the other girl's piece.

Unlike her mother, my daughter has always been a team player. It didn't matter that she was not well herself, or that she wouldn't be able to attend an extra-credit movie after school that she really needed in AP History, or that she would be up way past midnight making things right. To her the worst part was lugging the I-Mac home. It's a full-sized computer with a 27" monitor. It is heavy. Her backpack is heavy. Last time we weighed it, it was 38 pounds. You've seen pics of the girl. She is petite and oh, yeah, she's got that little medical bone condition as well.

The bell rang yesterday and the class disappeared leaving her alone to carry her backpack, her laptop, and the boxed I-Mac. She struggled up the stairs and sighed as she rested before heading to the far end of the parking lot. To her right she heard a male voice asking her if he could be of help. She turned and saw a young man standing next to her. "Oh my God, yes!" He lifted the box and followed her to her car never uttering a word. She opened her trunk and he gently placed it inside. My daughter was babbling on how much she appreciated his help as she laid her backpack beside the computer. She looked up as she closed the trunk to ask the young man what his name was, but she never got the chance. He was gone. "Mom, I mean gone! Like disappeared! There was nowhere he could have gone. I was parked at the far end of the lot. There's no way he could have gotten back in the school in the one second it took to put my backpack in the trunk. I know everyone at Burton and I've never seen him before. It was really weird. I think he was an angel..."

Autumn Shots I

Autumn is upon us...

Stick Bug

I found this fellow hanging out on the side of my house...



It took me a moment to realize it was an insect. I called my husband and said, "Look at this thing...it's like a stick bug!" We couldn't tell which way was up so I Googled him. Apparently it is called a Carausius morosus, or a stick bug.

According to National Geographic - "Many stick insects feign death to thwart predators, and some will shed the occasional limb to escape an enemy’s grasp. Others swipe at predators with their spine-covered legs, while one North American species, Anisomorpha buprestoides, emits a putrid-smelling fluid."

Like we don't have enough problems with stink bugs already. I didn't smell anything so he must not have been afraid of me. He also didn't move for at least six hours. I guess he was feigning death.

"Little is known about stick insects, making it difficult to declare the vulnerability of their status in the wild. The pet trade presents a potential threat, along with the popular practice of framing their carcasses, like butterflies."

"Many stick insects are easy to care for, and make good pets. Almost 300 species have been reared in captivity."

Quite an interesting creature...but keeping one as a pet? Pass.

Platform Rise, Talent Dies

I started off this week with a bang then quickly ran into responsibility roadblocks. My rewrite had to take a back seat to doctors, drugs -- their compatibility, reactions, side effects -- insurance companies, insurance agents, state laws, federal laws, Google Google Google, window manufacturing companies, window salesmen, window project managers, banks, diet books, diet shopping, diet menus, diet cooking, kids, kids, kids. Draining.

About the only "me" time was spent at the salon, which as you know is really not the way I prefer to spend my time, so really my roots should fall under the responsibility roadblock too. By the way I went darker again, more of a dark chocolate. It's only a matter of time before I wind up at black and then go back to platinum again.

The other "me" time was spent while researching any of the above on-line. By now you know the big buzz in the book and blog biz is Snooki snagged a book deal. No it's not going to be a pop-up -- it will be a novel about love. "Move over Nicole Richie...My book is gonna fistpump yours. I'm dancing all the way to the bank, bitch!"



With my pathetic schedule while living in one city, I could barely fit in time for 5,000 words this week. With her frantic schedule, appearances, partying and cityhopping, how in the world will poor Snooki ever find the time to write? Of course, we all know she most likely/definitely will have the help/entire book written by a ghostwriter. I seriously doubt Snooki will be revising, editing, looking for that perfect word in a tiny lonely home office. I could just see her, pickle in hand saying, "I already know what's in it. I wrote the freaking thing, why would I need to read it?"

The reason Snooki got a book contract is based solely on platform. It has nothing to do with literature talent. Her talent lies in attracting an audience, and a huge one at that. It's the money, not the message. And it's frustrating. Authors spend months and years trying to perfect their books, and then many more trying to get it even looked at. I doubt Snooki knew how to create the elusive perfect query letter that unpublished writers have read so much about. Unless there happened to be an agent sitting next to her at the salon, club or hot tub, I doubt she researched who would be the "best fit" for her, and who would request a partial. All Snooki, or whoever came up with the "Let's write a book!" idea, had to do to get book industry interest was present her platform. That was enough.

With this new breed of celebreality "authors" snagging contracts so quickly before their fame wanes, I fear the publishing industry's preference is heading into a dark scenario for "nobody" writers -- platform rise, talent dies.

Sad Day in the Entertainment World

It's a sad day in the entertainment world...

Tony Curtis is dead at the age of 85...



Comedian Greg Giraldo is dead at the age of 44...



And 22 year old Snooki of Jersey Shore fame, is not only still alive but has been awarded a publishing contract from Simon & Schuster to write not a memoir, but a novel.



Obviously the book publishing giant has raised its standards and was impressed by Snooki's intelligence as evidenced by these quotes from her:

•I feel like a pilgrim from the friggin’ 20’s washing sh*t right now.

•I don’t go tanning tanning anymore because Obama put a 10% tax on tanning. I feel like he did that intentionally for us, like McCain would never put a 10% tax on tanning.. because he is pale and he would probably wanna be tanned.

•The glasses are pretty much all crystalled out, all bling-bling, but when you put them on you can’t really see.. so I don’t think you can't drive with them.. because you’ll get a ticket.

The sad thing is Snooki, who will clearly have a ghostwriter, will become a best-selling author. The last episode of Jersey Shore had 6.4 million viewers. If Snooki pens a pop-up book she'll sell millions.

No, the clip below isn't one of the thousands of talented authors who have been working on their books for years struggling to find an agent and/or publisher after hearing about Snooki's deal...but it could be...