Joyce Magnin's Blog, page 12

Anyone Else Ever Inherit an Onion

Here's the thing, most people inherit money, jewelry, real estate, not me, no I inherited an onion. Oh, yes I did. Now, it's not normal to have a fear of houseplants. Or is it? Houseplants make me nervous. I mean they're beautiful and alive and help put oxygen in the air and all that but . . . and here's the problem—I routinely kill them. I don't mean too. I really try to nurture them, water them, talk to them, give them sunlight and yet, they still turn brown and die. My green thumb is black and cloaked in despair. Up until now I've managed quite nicely with zero plants in my home. But that's changed and I'm quite frantic.


Right now I have three plants that are making me very, very nervous. These plants I inherited after my mom, Flossie died in November. Now I know what you are thinking, so what, they're just plants. Give them away if you can't keep them alive—it's not like they're toddlers or . . . dogs. But, here's the thing, these plants come with a legacy. That's right a botanical legacy that reaches back into my childhood.


The first of these plants is the ONION. That's right, the ONION. This onion has been in the family for over sixty years! My mother said she received it from a woman who told it was old then—over sixty years ago. So you see, this onion, this pregnant onion as y other called it, has been part of my life—forever. And it's pregnant! It's always pregnant. You see it develops these little bulges that burst and send forth another teeny, tiny onion that then drops into the soil below and hopefully takes root, grows, matures and carries on the process. To date I have no idea how many generations of onion have come from this one, original onion. But now it is in my possession and I'm scared to death it's going to die. I promised Flossie I'd care for it. But it's not looking too good. I look at it and worry. I water it and worry. I pull brown dead stuff off it and worry. I give it light and worry. I shield it from the light and worry. It's extremely nerve-wracking to own an eighty year-old onion. I was wondering if some botanical museum would like it.

Along with the onion I became the proud mother of this giant Crown of Thorns plant, tree cactus thing. Now it's not as old as the onion. But it's just as famous. My mother ahs one several blue ribbons in plant competitions for it. And now, alas, it's in my care. It's making me very nervous. I'm trying to do right by it. I've rearranged my living room to accommodate it, so that it would receive optimal sunlight. I've read about it. How can you tell if a succulent is dormant? I can't. I water it, I don't water it. I spritz its leaves. I've considered installing a plant light. I know the thing enjoys distress. It is a cactus after all. A succulent. Everyday I watch another leaf turn yellow, wither and fall to the ground. It makes me said. I put my mother's picture near it, hoping it would help. Not so much.

So there you have it. My saga of the houseplant inheritance. A couple of bucks would have been better—that I can deal with. I could really use some advice.

The Truth About the Elf Head

Here's the thing, I guess you all know that my mom passed away the Monday before Thanksgiving. Yeah, it was tough. Still is. She died in the nursing home she had called home for almost ten years. My sister and I were at her side and watched her take her final breath. I believe she had slipped into Jesus' arms several hours before the electrical and chemical stuff going on in her body finally seized.
It's hard. I find myself thinking I need to go to the nursing home and visit her, to stop by for a minute or two just to say hello, bring her a cup of coffee. Mom loved coffee and in the last few years it was all she really needed and wanted—besides a kiss on the cheek. But then I remember. She is no longer part of my routine. It is a strange thing to walk the earth without a mother.

I've mentioned before that my mother was one of the funniest women I ever knew. She was quick to laugh and smile and also quick with a joke or a silly expression. Sometimes she knew she was funny and other times it seemed to pour out of her without her permission or knowledge. And for that I will always have fond and also strange memories.

This is what brings us to the elf head in the picture. Mom liked to make things and one year she had a bag of these elf heads. There must have been fifty of them in a plastic bag. Yeah, strange sight indeed. But nonetheless they existed. She had planned on fashioning bodies for them but never quite got around to it. Eventually the elf heads went back into the basement. Or so we thought. For years an elf head would show up in the oddest places. We called it "getting elfed". If you traveled anywhere you would most likely discover an elf had made the trip with you when you opened your suitcase. Once I found an elf head in the glove box of my car. One turned up in my father's toolbox. Another arrived somehow at my nieces' wedding. It was discovered in the shoebox that held her wedding shoes. Another traveled clear to Israel with my Dad. He found it in his camera bag. Occasionally an elf would be seen in the freezer or medicine cabinet. You just never knew when or where. The funny thing is that an elf head would often appear at times when a smile was most needed. The elf head in the picture was discovered the day my sister and I cleaned out Mom's room in the nursing home. I opened a bag that I thought contained some old greeting cards and there it was looking up at me. I had been elfed.

So there you go, the story of the elf head. Just a simple thing, a quiet memory of a woman who somehow managed to make you smile when she wasn't even in the room, who somehow knew you needed a laugh.

An Adventure and You're all Invited.

Here's the thing, I am writing a new book—brand new. Abingdon does have six more Bright's Pond Books in the pipeline (this does of course = Woo Hoo!) but I am also getting ready to sign a deal with Zondervan to write Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus. (Again, this = Woo Hoo!) This is a story about a middle-aged woman taking a rather unconventional road trip across the country. Yep, another post-menopausal woman making a break, trying life out in all its glory, finally finding herself after years of marriage and children and periods and church rummage sales. Harriet is going to California to live with her son and daughter-in-law. Harriet calls her Miss Fancy Pants. So that gives you a clue. But there's a twist and this is where all of you come in, if you're up for it. I have a deal to make. In the next day or so I am going to publish a list of cities and towns where Harriet will be making stops and since I am not rich and can't possibly travel to all these places between Havertown, PA and Grass Valley, California I need some help. If you happen to live in or near one of these cities and would like to be part of the journey here's the thing—please send me postcards and bus schedules, yeah, bus schedules. I'll explain later. Postcards of pretty much anything will do, landmarks, gardens, buildings, cityscapes etc. And if you're willing any other info, brochures etc. would be most welcome. And in return I will send you a signed copy of Harriet Beamer Takes the Bus—fresh off the presses. And maybe a couple of other as yet to be decided goodies I'm dreaming about. Oh, you could even send pix of yourself, your dog or cat or kids, your neighborhood, pretty much anything that will help me soak up the local color. Remember the I Love Lucy episode when she visited the winery and stomped grapes. Hysterical. Well, I can't visit the farms and small towns and festivals Harriet will. So, email me, let me know what you think and if you're game, I will send you my physical addy, unless of course you know a way to send me stuff in digital format. I'm open. I will be adding to this list and making changes as necessary. Thanks for your help. Oh, one more thing, there's a dog--HUmphrey the Basset Hound who will be telling his side of things in future blog posts entitled Letters From Humphrey. He misses Harriet. She had to send him ahead to live with Henry and Miss Fancy Pants. He's not happy.
Be in touch!

For now here is a partial list of cities and towns:

Lancaster, PA
York, PA

Perryville, Maryland
Elkton, Maryland
Aberdeen, Maryland
Baltimore, MD

Charlottesville, VA
Monticello, VA (Thomas Jefferson house)
Roanoke, VA

Knoxville, TN
Nashville, TN
Gatlinburg, TN
Pigeon Fork, TN

The states Harriet will be adventuring through are:
Pennsylvania
Maryland
Virginia
Tennessee
Mississippi
Arkansas
Oklahoma
Texas
New Mexico
Arizona

Top Ten Rants Right Now

Here's the thing, I've never done a rant list but here goes. Ten things that infuriate me. Or at least bug me.

People in a crowded grocery store who think they're the only one shopping. Come on! Just pick a can or move to the side already.

Drivers who make a right hand turn just as you're approaching the intersection in the left lane, scare the bejeebers out of you because it looks like they might just turn into your lane and then they try and creep over. Yikes. Give it another two seconds you'll get there.

This odd penchant Americans have of combining names of dating couples and words forming such undesirables as Frenemy. What the heck is that?

The cost of a banana at Starbucks. A dollar? Are you kidding me? They should be giving them away.

Drivers who want to go fast in a school lane. Really?

Why do some people think if they splash on enough harsh cologne to mask whatever other smell they are hiding is all right to do in a doctor's waiting room.

The misuse of the words, literally and ignorant.

Election years. Political advertising and well, politicians in general.

The very mean lady at the dollar store the other day. I mean really, lady, why did you even come to this country if all you want to do is gripe about Americans. Sheesh.


And the fact that I still have a week to wait before the release of Fable III. You have to play RPGs to understand.

So what's bugging you?

Here's Mango Cervantes Don Quixote

Here's the thing, I adopted a kitty cat this weekend. His name is Mango Cervantes Don Quixote. He's very sweet and cuddly and wears a bandana. He's fat and jolly most of the time but can also be deadly serious. At first I thought I wanted a kitten and a female. But when I got to the shelter I met Mango. They were calling him Tommy Boy. But I changed his name. I mean sometimes you just have to make a cat your own. No one wanted him and he had been at the shelter for a long time. He was basically on death row. But that was only because Mango has Feline AIDS. Yeah, too bad and kind of scary. He's not sick or anything, at least not yet and I figure whatever time he ahs left will be happier spent with me.
When I first decided to get a kitty I quickly learned that adopting a cat is not easy. I mean you'd think mango was a human toddler with all the rigmarole they put me through. I promise I am not telling a lie when I say it took nearly two hours to get the paper work done. Sheesh. I had to promise all sorts of things, sign a loyalty statement, swear that I would never let him outside or send him to Mars in an unmanned spaceship. I had to show seven forms of idea, prove I was a voter and an American and not recruiting cats for some secret spy agency. I mean really folks, it's a cat.
My friend Rebecca went with me. She knew right away that Mango and I were meant to be together. And she was right. I picked him up and he cuddled with me and then he looked me square in the eyes and well, I said yes.
I think all writers should have a pet. Someday I'll have a dog. But for now, Mango is just right. He likes to sit at my feet while I work although right now he is lying on my bed, on my laundry sleeping.
Now I have to be honest, I really like him but the whole litter box thing has me a little concerned. Not a big fan of the littler box. But what can I do. I've been checking into them. They have some pretty nifty gadgets out there that control odor, clean themselves etc. I can't afford the self-cleaning one but I'm seriously considering getting a more sophisticated little control system when I can. Something with a lid because as much as I love Mango—he stinks when he poops.
But look, it was worth filling out the paperwork and I really do appreciate the concern the shelter took in checking me out, frisking me for explosives etc. I swear it's easier to get on an airplane than adopt a cat, but at least they're trying .At least they care about animals. Except of course for the injured wild fox that was brought in by a concerned citizen while I was filling out paper work. She didn't appreciate the good people at the shelter. Not sure what happened there but, it's the SPCA not the zoo.
So, yes, I am the proud Mamma to a fat cat who wears a bandanna and meows when I come home, snuggles at my feet and likes to play with fake mice and chase shadows.
Mango, I think I'll keep him.

My Strange Fantasy

Here's the thing, I never told anyone this but I have a fantasy, a strange notebook fantasy. Most people know how much I love notebooks—particularly Moleskine, pronounce it Mole-SKEEN notebooks. These are the legendary notebooks used by Hemingway, Van Gogh, Bruce Chatwin and many, many other authors and artists. These trusty notebooks are the perfect reservoir for sketches and stories, snippets of thought and ideas. They tuck easily into a handbag or backpack or smaller ones slip in pockets....

Charlotte Figg is Now Available

Here's the thing, the second Bright's Pond novel, Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise is now available. So if you've pre-ordered a copy it should be arriving any minute now. If not, then please be sure to get your copy while they last. Charlotte is doing really, getting some great reviews and endorsements.

From the back cover copy:
"Charlotte Figg makes me want to move to Bright's Pond and bake pies and embrace the freedom to be who God made me to be. Once you've laughed and cried and eaten wit...

A Difficult Subject

Here's the thing, I am eagerly awaiting the release of the second Bright's Pond novel—Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise. It is set to hit the shelves both virtual and physical September first. I'm really excited about this one because it deals with a subject that doesn't always get the attention it needs and deserves—domestic abuse. I know, I know, what a depressing subject to start the week on but naturally Charlotte takes a look at this subject with both humor and pathos. The sad truth is ...

The Wednesday Night JOY-ce Ride (and Thursday)

Here's the thing, I just got back from the Greater Philadelphia Christian Writers Conference. It was as always a great, fun time of learning and fellowship and praising God for all the year's writerly blessings. I love to teach and get very attached to my clinic people (more on that later). It is also an opportunity to catch-up with other authors who I only get to see once or twice a year and to meet some for the very first time. We chat via email and FB but have never actually met, or we sha...

It's the Ikea Store not the Idea store

Here's the thing, I'm a writer not a carpenter or an engineer but I built a piece of furniture this weekend. That's it in the picture—an entertainment center. Pretty sweet. My sisterfriend, Rebecca helped. She went to Ikea with me, helped me choose it and then helped me lug it home. Which let me tell you was hard. It was quite heavy but we are women, hear us roar. Then we unboxed all the pieces and started to build. Fortunately Ikea packs their stuff in ways that are amazing feats of engineer...