Pat Bean's blog

            “There are different rules for reading, for thinking, and for talking. Writing blends all three of them.” —  Mason Cooley

Pepper keeps me company when I write. Usually she sits on my feet beneath my desk, but lately she’s been scrunching up my new soft throw and keeping an eye on m from my bed. — Photo by Pat Bean

Why Proofreading is Important

I was doing my  tweets for Story Circle Network this morning, and on rereading my 160 characters, I broke into a belly laugh. The tweet was: “One Woman’s Day: The importance of mail in a retirement village has one woman thinking about the future. Read it at: http://tinyurl.com/5tevft5 “

Well, that’s what it was supposed to say. Instead of mail, I had written male. I wonder if I was thinking about an all-female retirement home.

Every write must have time to stare out the window — and if you’re lucky you’ll find something to inspire you. — Photo by Pat Bean

Thankfully, whatever the cause for the typo, or Freudian slip, it was discovered and corrected before I hit the tweet button. That’s not always been the case.

As a journalist writing on deadline, with too hurried, or too complacent, an editor, I’ve been responsible for some goodies, like leaving the first L out of Public Sale, or more commonly using the word there when I meant their; site when I meant sight; or two when I meant too. Although I know the rule well, I also write its when I mean it’s, and iit’s when I mean its.

I’ve often wondered if there is a disconnect between the brain and the fingers.

What I learned as an editor, of both my own and others’ copy, is that you’ll generally find an error in the last paragraph. That’s because many writers are like me, they’re constantly rereading what they wrote from the first paragraph on – and the last paragraph comes up short on the proofreading.

The best thing for me, if I haven’t procrastinated and have the time, is to let my writing sit for at least an hour and then go back and reread it in its entirety. And if I find too many mistakes, repeat the process. That way the brain is less likely to see what it meant to write and instead see what was actually written

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Writers need support: A network of people to inspire them, pick them up when they fall down and kick them in the butt when they procrastinate too much. A few years ago, I discovered the best support any female writer could ever have. It’s an international organization for female writers called Story Circle Network, whose focus is to help members tell their stories. The organization will be holding its seventh women’s memoir conference this April 11-13 in Austin. Perhaps you would like to attend. That is why today I’m giving my Bean’s Pat to this Web page, http://www.storycircle.org/Conference/ so you can check it out. I hope to see you there.

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“As each day comes to us refreshed and anew, so does my gratitude renew itself daily. The breaking of the sun over the horizon is my grateful heart dawning upon a blessed world.” — Terri Guillemets

I’m thankful that this old coot still has a zest for life and a curiosity about it as well. — Photo by Pat Bean

1. That I’m spending Thanksgiving this year with family, including my 2-year-old great-grandson.
2. Belly laughs
3. The Sonoran Desert, where I’ve lived now for almost a year.
4. My resent reunion with my scattered family in Texas, including four children and their spouses and children.
5. Pepper, my canine companion and lap full of joy.
6. Rich African  coffee heavily laced with cream
7. My small RV Gypsy Lee, who is still running and still my only transportation
8. Cool nights that let me snuggle beneath a soft quilt
9. That this old broad is still reasonably healthy and still able to take care of herself and even travel some.
10. Hearty  hugs from people who mean it
11. That my January broken foot is all healed.
12. My Tucson apartment’s third floor balconies that let me see sunrises in the morning and sunsets in the evenings.
13. My association with the awesome women of Story Circle Network
14. A good haircut
15. Scenic “short” hiking trails
16. Achievements  of my kids, grandkids and friends
17. My zest  for life
18. Friends who love playing cards and board games
19. Learning something new
20. The flash  of sun illuminating the tail feathers of an overhead red-tailed hawk
21. Waterfalls
22. That as an American woman I can go anywhere alone and that my vote count just as much as a man’s — and believing that perhaps one day all women can say the same
23. Ibuprofen to relieve aches and pains
24. Discovering a fantastic new author
25. Meet Ups, which have let me gain a community of writers and others who share my interests
26. The hummingbirds, gila woodpecker and verdins that visit my nectar feeder
27. Van Gogh paintings
28. Butterflies
29. My  computer and the Internet
30. That I’m a writer and can live moments in my life twice
31. Rainbows
32. Helen Reddy’s recording of “I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar,” and John Denver’s recording of “Sunshine on my Shoulder Makes Me Happy.”
33. Tono Chul Park
34. Funky,  dangling earrings that belie my age
35. Bra-less  days
36. A stormy day spent with a good book
37. Good memories of my mother
38. Old  friends and new friends
39. A field of wildflowers or blooming cacti
40. My son-in-law’s chocolate chip cookies … hint, hint
41. The wind  blowing through my hair
42. My daily walks with Pepper
43. That I can afford medical insurance despite its big hit on my budget
44. A  wee-morning hours chatter with a long-time girlfriend over Jack Daniels  and Coke.
45. Children who worry about their mother, although their worrying annoys me.
46. The honking of geese as they fly overhead
47. Lake reflections
48. Family meals eaten around a table
49. My curiosity
50. Comfortable  shoes
51. The daily e-mails I share with a daughter-in-law
52. America’s national parks
53. Electricity
54. Pleasant surprises
55. People who care deeply about something
56. The wolf’s  return to Yellowstone
57. The  journey between destinations
58. A comfortable bed and a perfect pillow
59. WordPress for hosting this blog
60. Clean  white  sox
61. Water in  all its forms
62. Scented candles
63. A sky full of stars
64. Glasses that allow me to read
65. Wind blowing through my hair
66. Honest  politicians who truly care about the average American — surely there are some.
67. Bird watching with my bird-watching son
68. My dog-walking and writing jobs
69. For tears that let me know I can still care deeply about people and things.
70. Chocolate milk shakes made with real ice cream.
71. Nice and Easy, No. 99 – so I can forever be a blonde
72. Coyote  howls
73. Wrinkle-free clothing
74. Gentle dentists
75. My  independence
76. The  fragrant scent of a blooming gardenia bush, which always reminds me of my grandmother
77. The diversity I find in people watching
78. Large,  gnarly live oak trees
79. Audible  books
80. Maps
81. A good editor
82. Books with satisfying endings
83. The strong women of the past who fought so I could vote
84. A cup of  Earl Grey tea
85. The color  turquoise
86. Social Security
87. Antibiotics and vaccinations
88. Smiles
89. The gambled quail that frolic in the desert around my apartment
90. That gas is cheaper this year than last year
91. My Canon pocket, zoom camera
92. Air conditioners and heaters
93. Blank  journals to fill
94. The Catalina Mountains that have been my backyard for the past year.
95. A hearty  11 a.m. breakfast for lunch
96. The music  of a humpback whale
97. Stained  glass windows
98. Birds
99. My alone time
100. The family  computer nerds who get the bugs out of my laptop
101. Readers of my blog and other writings

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     “I rant, therefore I am.” – Dennis Millier

On the other hand, “Computers and the Internet have made it really easy to rant. It’s made everyone overly opinionated.” – Scott Weiland

This photo has nothing to do with this blog. I just needed a piece of Mother Nature to remind me that the world is beautiful. — Photo by Pat Bean

A Disney Decision

I’ve been angry all week about our incompetent elected leaders who aren’t intelligent or caring enough to keep the government operating. Perhaps they’re telling us we can do without them.

But just thinking about politics makes my blood pressure jump, which is why I didn’t need to read that Disney is taking an action that would personally affect my severely autistic granddaughter. It also made my blood pressure soar.

Instead of allowing disabled children to jump ahead in lines, Disney will now give them a return time for the ride. While that may be fine for many, it’s not for my granddaughter and others like her, who don’t understand the concept of wait, and who aren’t calm when having to wait. For them, this is a travesty.

But it’s not Disney that I blame. I blame the thousands and thousands of people who have fraudulently taken advantage of this perk, which is the reason for Disney’s decision to change it.

These are the same people who fraudulently use handicapped parking spaces, cheat on their taxes, play hooky from work by saying they are sick when they are not, and who wouldn’t return money to the person they saw drop it. If something benefits them, and they can get away with it, then they do it.

And in the end, everyone pays the price.

Not only have we been setting bad examples for our children,  it’s these same children who grow up to be our country’s leaders.

Bean’s Pat: This helped to calm me down. I do dream and I do imagine: http://tinyurl.com/dgmokv

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The best way to start a morning is to watch the sun come up. Or so us early-risers believe. — Photo by Pat Bean

   “Morning is when the wick is lit. A flame ignited, the day delighted with heat and light, we start the fight for something more than before.” – Jeb Dickerson

On the opposite side of the landscape from the sunrise, Mount Lemmon was set afire by the sun’s first rays. –Photo by Pat Bean

Morning Walk with Pepper   

Miss Pepper takes in her desert surroundings as the sun sets the Palo Verde trees in the background aglow. — Photo by Pat Bean

          Most of my working days for a newspaper began before the sun came up. Often I was the first one to make an appearance in the newsroom. And if not, I still usually found things dark and quiet.

It didn’t help my popularity that I would turn on all the lights and cheerfully tell whoever had come in early, most likely to finish a story before deadline, a cheery good morning. Not everyone enjoys getting up before the sun.

But I do,  and this morning was one of those magical ones, the kind that stirs my soul and makes it quiver with delight.

Pepper and I were on the short desert trail near our apartment in time to watch the final  vestiges of last’s night full moon disappear as  the sun crept up over a ridge, shooting rainbows of color as it topped the landscape.

Life is good.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Daily W(rite) http://tinyurl.com/qaqqvr6  Advice from a  artist blogger and Ray Bradbury: Just do it. I sort of think the piece of colorful and cheery art accompanying this blog expresses my feelings about mornings.

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         “Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me – I am happy.” – Hamlin Garland.

Pepper, dripping wet, comes in at just under 20 pounds. She was smart enough this morning to call for help when she was surrounded by three coyotes twice her size. Thankfully she was unharmed. Photo by Pat Bean

Pepper in Danger

I heard the coyotes before light this dawn, and thrilled at the yipping. It was the sound of Mother Nature still making her presence known within city limits. I hear coyotes occasionally from my third-floor apartment in Tucson’s Catalina Mountain foothills, but I hear them almost every day when I’m visiting my daughter, who lives near the Tucson Mountains on the southwest side of the city.

This coyote, photographed beside an Arizona highway, probably weighs 35-40 pounds — Wikipedia photo

That’s where I was this morning – house-sitting and animal-sitting for my daughter who is camping with her three sons and husband this Labor Day weekend. The animals include one horse, two cats, three fish and three dogs. While my daughter’s dogs are all much larger than Pepper, the four of them play great together, especially her and the younger dog,  Zip, who always conduct a fast game of chase in the horse arena whenever I let them outside to do their business.

So it was this morning. The pair had already made several loops of the arena when I suddenly heard Pepper give a frightful yelp. From my position on the patio, which is attached to the back of my daughter’s home, I looked up to see Pepper surrounded in the arena by three coyotes. I almost peed my pants.

Immediately, I started yelling, waving my arms and running toward her. My speed, for an old broad, astonished even me. Thankfully the coyotes decided I was too big a threat to risk for a small-dog meal, and they casually ambled away.

It was the first time in my life that I hadn’t been delighted and awed to see the touch of wilderness that these canine cousins of Pepper’s add to the landscape.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: What I See is What I Shoot http://tinyurl.com/mdn99ee Red Grass. I love the two quotes that accompany this photo.

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“Generally speaking, a howling wilderness does not howl: it is the imagination of the traveler that does the howling.” — Henry David Thoreau

My travels these days often turn up wild turkeys. It’s one of the birds, thanks to us humans, that have made a comeback since the 1950s. — Photo by Pat Bean

Bookish Monday

I’m reading “Return to Wild America: A Yearlong Search for the Continent’s Natural Soul” by Scott Weidensaul, who retraced the 30,000-mile,1953 journey of two legendary ornithologists, American Roger Tory Peterson and Englishman James Fisher.

Egret populations are also healthy once again — after women stopped decorating their hats with egret plumes. — Photo by Pat Bean

I read the original book, “Wild America,” which described the pair’s journey and the birds they saw along the way, many years ago. I read it slowly, envisioning the rookeries, the forests, the vast King Ranch in Texas, and the seashores on both sides of the continent that they encountered along the way.

I’m reading Weidensaul’s book the same way, tracing his route across a different America. As is life, it’s a story about loss and gain, the latter which of course I was pleased to see.

It’s a book worth reading.

In all, Tory and Peterson identified 532 of the approximately 925 bird species that can be found in North America. The ivory-billed woodpecker, which may or may not be extinct, was not one of them.

“Wild America” by Roger Tory Peterson and James Fisher is still in print after over 50 years.

Their record number of birds seen — before the event of better transportation, Internet birding hotlines and an interest in tracking birds became popular — gave them the Big Year record.

The record was quickly broken, most recently in 1998, when three men went all out in competing for the honor. All three broke the then current record. You can read all about their wild chase back and forth across the continent in “The Big Year” by Mark Obmascik.

It’s a great read, too.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: The Chrysalis of Change http://tinyurl.com/m7e9u9d Yet another good one from one of my favorite bloggers.

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   “We do not make friends. We recognize then.”

I Got It Wrong

Sometimes a soul mate isn’t even human. Pepper knew we belonged together the first time she saw me, and said with her eyes that she was going home with me.

I was too young, too naïve and too needy when I married. I almost immediately knew I had got it wrong, but was too chicken for too many years to end it. I’m not whining. Life is what you make it — and my reward were five children, the loves of my life.

But when, at 40, I found myself a free woman, I longed with all my heart and body to find my soul mate. I was sure he was out there somewhere.

Well, if he was, we never met.

Instead, at some point along my pot-hole filled life, I discovered that a soul mate wasn’t always, or only, a companion and lover. A soul mate could simply be a “friend.”

I had soul mates before I recognized them, like the much older woman who was the first to know I wanted to be a writer and who encouraged me.

I thought about her this morning. Her name was Lorraine Bright, and while she is now somewhere out there in that great beyond, the influence this woman had on my life still lives within my soul. We were friends for many years, always picking up right where we had left off even if we hadn’t seen each other for half a dozen years.

I have a few other friends like that –younger and older, male and female, religious and atheists – among my many acquaintances.  They include a male wordsmith colleague who shares my idea of what being a journalist means; and a woman young enough to be my daughter with whom I’ve shared many an escapade and adventure. We’ve joked that we will always be friends because we each know where the skeletons of the other are buried.

There are others, each recognized because some part of them connected with some part of me. Perhaps it was that we shared a love of reading, or an understanding of writer demons, or a thirst for knowledge, or that we both had a true zest for life that didn’t involve material things.

I’ve connected on just such levels recently with a few fellow bloggers.

Like the people whose faces I can physically touch, these soul mates are ageless and sexless, as age and gender play no role in who is a soul mate and who is not.

Each of them is a reason for me to daily count my blessings – and I do.

Bean’s Pat: Blackbird or Meadowlark?  http://tinyurl.com/kt2fxnf  This one’s for the birders among my readers. Or for anyone who just likes to look at awesome birds.

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            A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face.  It is one of the few havens remaining where a man’s mind can get both provocation and privacy.  ~Edward P. Morgan

What Kind of a Reader are You?

The Heron, one of the Nazca Lines, which is a geoglyph. — Wikipedia Photo

            When I read fiction, I want good writing, and the characters, the setting, and the plot to engage me fully – and if I come across a word whose meaning stumps me, I usually just give it my guess and move on.

            But when I read non-fiction, I savor the words, and quickly turn to a dictionary – albeit these days an online one instead of the thick book I always had at the ready before the days of the Internet – when an unfamiliar word or name pops up.

            Two popped up this morning, the first – geoglyphs – as I was reading Sara Wheeler’s “Travels in a Thin Country: A journey through Chile.”

             Now I know what petroglyphs are but I had never heard the term geoglyphs, which I found in this sentence: “We passed geoglyphs of men and animals, carved into the hillsides by some wandering tribe, centuries before the accursed Spaniards appeared on the continent.”

The sentence itself gave me a clue about the meaning, but I wanted more specifics. And here’s what I found: Geoglyphs are large works of art made from stones or dirt that are arranged in a landscape. Examples given of geoglyphs were the Nazca Lines in Peru and the Big Horn Medicine Wheel in Wyoming, which I recently blogged about for American Profile’s online presence —  http://blogs.americanprofile.com/big-horn-medicine-wheel/ — without using the term.

            My wondering-wandering mind was satisfied with the answer and went back to reading the travel book.

            Later in the morning, as I catching up on my e-mail and reading one of the blogs to which I’m subscribed, I came across an unknown name. The author mentioned the artist Naum Gabo. I had never heard of him, and so I again turned to the Internet — Honesty, I don’t know how I survived before this information highway came into being.

            Naum Gabo, I learned, was born Naum Neemia Pevsner in Russia in 1890. He changed his name to Gabo, and is best known as a sculpture involved in the constructivism movement and as a pioneer in kinetic art. Perhaps you’ve heard of him – but I hadn’t. And I found the Wikipedia short biography of his life fascinating.

            So what stops you in your tracks when you’re reading?

            Bean’s Pat: Failure is not an option http://tinyurl.com/lhltoea Something to keep in mind.

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