K.B. Pellegrino's Blog, page 21

Short Trips

Did you ever notice that a short trip sometimes magically turns into a big vacation for the brain? Today I went for a medical appointment at a Boston location requiring me to travel 90 miles each way. I did not look forward to the trip to and back and the start of the trip was nasty with lots of road construction on the Mass Pike and stop and go traffic. But, the plethora of people I met at the hospital site brought me to dreamland; the dreamland I sometimes live in that involves murder plotting for my mystery writing. Everyone has a story and is a story. I'm certain that those in the waiting room today were inventing a story around me. I took a friend's book with me and it is a story about death analyzed from the other side. It is hopeful and should be left in all medical offices. Don't you think that people who may be suffering from disease need hope. I do. So this short trip today which ended in a lovely lunch nearby in Waltham with my dear Madison enlarged my heart and informed my writing.
K. B. Pellegrino

Circa 1914 Living Room

Century Old Living Room

It looks formal but oh the history of activities does my living room hide from view. The first owner of this middle European style home was waked in this same room. The second owner built a boat in this room and was required to remove the large windows not shown in this photo in order to remove the boat from the premises. My teens used to play poker in the room pretending they were Edwardian gentlemen. I, of course, used it as a setting for countless more formal cockta...

Murder or wedding

A thunderstorm and a deluge of rain hit Springfield, Massachusetts this afternoon and my first thought was 'murder', while my second thought was 'how green my grass was turning'.

As a mystery writer, I'm totally comfortable having both thoughts blow through my grey matter simultaneously. Think about settings for novels, even mystery novels, when the author presents a weather condition and then sets the reader up to expect action. So it is perfectly logical to me to watch the green grass grow and envision a murder or a mystery or a murky or beautiful change in people's lives. The action could go in any direction. The rain could be a symbol of a wedding supported by the old adage, 'Happy the bride, the rain falls on.' It could also be the backdrop for an unaware woman walking with her umbrella followed by a menacing man focussed on her. Settings are the signal telling the reader, 'expect something.'

I look outside daily and dream of a plot. How and why my mind works this way is unknown by me; but it does work for telling stories. That is my profession; whether I'm writing them, telling them, or learning them to retell. I am a storyteller.

K. B. Pellegrino, Author

It’s finally 73 degrees and sunny in western Massachusetts

I’ve been in the garden today and assessed the winter damage. The ground is soaked with water for our land is comprised of clay. The good thing about clay as a basis for grass and shrubs and flowers is that we rarely have to water. But in the spring our soil is loaded with water looking for a way to drain. We moved sticks that had fallen from the wind storms. I simplified my garden area by removing several pots. I am overwhelmed with the prospect of edging, weeding, trimming that confronts me...

Today, April 18th

Today is April 19th and if we look into our history we find many important events occurring on this day. I am a mystery novelist, so the life of Eliot Ness seemed interesting to me. He was a top cop whose job was to enforce prohibition.
Ness was born on 19th April 1903 in Chicago, Illinois and died on May 16, 1957.He worked to enforce Prohibition in Chicago, Illinois, as the leader of a legendary team of law enforcement agents nicknamed The Untouchables who were sworn to stop Al Capone's illegal activities in Chicago. Eliot Ness led many raids against Capone's stills and breweries and possibly because Capone was concentrating on stopping Ness and his Untouchables, he did not see the Income Tax Problems which would end his career. In the end it was the federal government who ended Capone's Career for income-tax.
Today drinking is legal. So we may ask ourselves whether all the money, effort, and efforts to stop the related crime connected to prohibition were worth it. We have legalized in many states marijuana for many reasons. Now we question the system where so many have been incarcerated for possessing and selling marijuana which is legal today. Culture changes as well as laws. There is no guarantee to hold on to in life.
Ness did his job as it was laid before him. He did it well. In looking back today his efforts may appear miniscule. How often are we, outside of our work, doing what is not miniscule, what is big? What is big would be our attitude. Were we kind? Were we helpful? Did we approach life trying always to do what we thought was the right thing?
Love to hear what else is big, but often overlooked. Let me know your thoughts. Perhaps some of the Self Help books would work here. Maybe the lives of the saints could give us some thoughts.
K. B. Pellegrino, Author

Computer upkeep!?$%&

Oh how frustrated I have been today. I was raring to go; I was so ready to write and accomplish my list today. Notice my title with its pretense substitute for words not acceptable to conversation. I was that mad. Do I have a right to be angry just because that little machine has a difficult day? I mean the fact that the little plug-in gizmo called a WIFI USB adaptor suddenly disappears from my computer - it is a problem. There, last night, but gone this morning. No one confesses to taking it. I know I did not. I gave everyone who even approached my office in the last 36 hours a good grilling. Not one person confessed. Well, now I'm left with the thought that there is ghost in my office.

That ghost also interfered with the installation of my new and improved gizmo. It took three times to install it. It couldn't be me. I read instructions carefully; it must have been the computer ghost. It is telling me something that I don't want to hear.

I have resolved to embrace my karma. This ghost is telling me to murder my computer. I'm not against taking that action normally; after all I write murder mysteries, but...... I need the computer. So my karma is to suffer and accept that my computer needs attention too, especially since I am unable to read my own handwriting.

K. B. Pellegrino, Author

Love of Animals

Today in honor of SPCA’s special day, I must mention how a pet, whatever pet you may choose, adds value to your life. You may own a pet or rescue a pet from another owner or shelter, or visit a pet at an animal shelter, or work with animals/pets in a professional capacity, or finally just get a kick from their antics as a pet owner walks the pet by your home each day. The joy from sharing our planet with another species is endless.

I have a black labradoodle named ‘Othello’. He is over eleven...

In the News at BU!

I have some exciting news! Boston University’s Engineering Department has featured me in their Spring Edition of ENGineer Magazine! If you would like to read the full article click here.

 

The post In the News at BU! appeared first on K.B. Pellegrino.

Poetry: Just a Couple of Thoughts

Poetry Month is here. We must think about repetition, alliteration, rhyme, meter or rhythm, hyperbole, metaphor and on and on. What about onomatopoeia? Whole poems are written using this device. I think about Edgar Allan Poe’s, “The Bells.” Just reading this poem aloud tickles my soul. Most famous of all is the word ‘tintinnabulation’. Just say it two or three times as it rolls off your tongue, it feels wonderful. Think about the line, “…To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From th...

A poem/essay for April

Ode to an Orange ©2016

Oh round brightly colored glistening orange, lying on your square yellow cotton napkin, how you tempt me to squeeze you, to feel the tiny craters of your skin, to sink my nails in your shell to feel the depth of your white dentin.
You arouse me with ascorbic acid deliciousness floating into my nostrils. How I long to peel your skin to attack your juicy flesh – perhaps roughly grind your skin in tiny slivers to use later with my Makers Mark bourbon on ice.
I could, instead, slice you and then sink my teeth in those oh so juicy and sweet pieces. No matter how often I dream of absorbing all your vitamin C, I dream best of your early Christmas morning smell with all its promises and the touch of your shape, though slightly rough, is more satisfying than running my fingers on soft corduroy.
Can any other fruit offer such a plethora of sensual fulfillment? Even dried, I pleasure in your chewiness in my fruit breads. Is it any wonder that you are the smell that accompanies many haunting and floating spirits of the dead evoking past lives?