Beth Kephart's Blog, page 327

Betty Boop

I was the kid whom they called Betty Boop, and she's been with me ever since—big cut-out dolls and ornaments, cartoon cards and a little light-up version that a friend picked up while on her way to (visit a) prison.

When I hung this one on the tree last week, I stopped, for a moment, to study those eyebrows. No botox there, from what I can tell. Just a big say yes to life.

From my Kitchen/Scenes from Today's Meal

(blood oranges, red onions, cinnamon, mint, an orange dressing)

(wild rice, red pepper, anchovies, green onions, Italian parsley,
sherry vinegar, red wine vinegar, olive oil)

It was a good day. The turkey cooperated, the baby spinach was sweet, the blueberries and gorgonzola were on more than speaking terms. The brownies were moist. And the two dishes above were full of color and zest, but few calories.
Tomorrow I tackle the paella.

Nothing to be Frightened of

I am frustrated by a life that leaves me far too little time to read. Frustrated. Determined, though, I have carried Julian Barnes' Nothing to be Frightened of with me from client to client. I've sat with it in the dentist chair. I've read it while on hold for conference calls. I've stood there stirring a pot, the book in hand. You'd have thought I'd have finished it by now.

And why am I fighting so hard to find the time to read a book that is, indeed, a meditation on death and dying—on ...

The Art of Looking Sideways

"... the larger part of the labour of an author in composing his work is critical labour; the labour of shifting, combining, constructing, expunging, correcting, testing."

This is T.S. Eliot, quoted on page 424 of The Art of Looking Sideways, the final present of perhaps five dozen presents that I now wrap so that it might be slipped beneath the tree. This Alan Fletcher compendium of ideas—visual and other—is as extraordinary in its way as the ladybird I found this morning and photographed ag...

Chatting it up with readergirlz

My time as author in residence for readergirlz has reached its near end. I've had a truly blessed journey along the way—coming to know this incredible (award-winning) organization even better and interacting with the younger readers/writers who have participated in the writing contests. One last contest remains, with a December 30 deadline. Shortly on the heels of that, I'll be participating in a live chat with the readergirlz on January 6, 6 PM Pacific/9 PM Eastern @ readergirlz.blogspot....

Fox Cities Book Festival

A few months ago, my agent forwarded a note that launched a series of conversations that ultimately resulted in (I know, this is starting to sound a bit like an office memo) what I can today announce is my participation in the 2010 Fox Cities (Wisconsin) Book Festival, to be held during April 11 - 18, and featuring (since I am now writing a preposterously long sentence, one not extend it?) Mary Karr, David Wroblewski, Kim Edwards, Chris Crutcher, Ted Kooser, Jane Hamilton, and others. I'll b...

All Day Long

we felt the snow up around our knees.

White Knight. Shining Armor.

At this point in this day I'm giving this blog post up to Nick Daniels, once the neighbor boy-wonder who cut all our lawns, now out on his own working with his dad in a thriving auto shop by day and still taking care of the rest of us by any other available hour. In the summer, Nick helps me reach the branches of the trees that have grown too tall for my own pruning. In the fall he takes away the leaves. In the spring he helps me mulch, if I need mulch, for a garden that (I admit) is ambiti...

Our Family Holiday Card (and greetings)

One of my favorite parts of the Christmas season is creating a card each year with my artist-husband, Bill. This year, Bill has been working with Maya and ZBrush software to generate a new kind of image, and this star-spangled wanderer was one of the first images to emerge from his workshop, which is, in fact, the old garage shed that was converted years ago for his artistic purposes. (Bill walks about 75 yards to work each morning; my commute involves walking through the living room to my ...

Snow Falling: A Christmas Eve Excerpt

The promised snow is out there, falling, and I am feeling melancholy. This morning, before a long corporate-work weekend kicks in, I read the novel for adults through one last time. It is going, now, to Amy Rennert, my agent. Come the new year, we shall see what we shall see.

In the meantime, from a final scene in the asylum. The year is 1955.

Someone had brought in a Collaro hi-fi and plugged it in with Christmas blues and we sat there, the crazy and the no inch short...