Big Blog Announcement!

I have something to tell you about this blog...I'm moving to a new site! For some time now I've thought about changing up the look. My incredible husband has helped me with it. We've been working out some bugs, but I'm ready now to share it with you. From now on, find this blog at www.alisonbryantwrites.com.

I do this with mixed feelings; there is some sentimentality for me about this first blog format. =) At the new one I'll add some more touches here and there to get settled in. I'd love your feedback over there. I do need to tell you this: this version of "Hmmm" is in Blogger, and the new version is in WordPress. It's still easy to add comments, and there's an optional place to add your web site/blog if you have one.

I'll leave up this blog for quite a while for anyone who might wander by and wonder where we went.

Thanks for taking part. You are what makes blogging fun. So come on over, and tell me what you think!

Glorieta

Some of you know that I'm at my first writers' conference. Just a quick update to let you know that I'm having a great time. This conference is full of fun, encouraging, godly people and lots of good information and worship time. I'm tired, but it's that tired you get when you're worn out from good things. Here's a shot from early evening, my favorite time of day. I'm so grateful God allowed me to come.

Taste O' Fall

The last post dealt with family meals. It got me a-thinking...With it being glorious fall right now, I decided to share a yearly tradition David and I have developed: making pumpkin pancakes together. Enjoy!









Pumpkin Pancakes with Apple Cider Syrup

For the pancakes:
1 Cup all-purpose flour
2 Tablespoons brown sugar
dash of salt
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 Cup milk
2 Tablespoons vegetable oil
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 Cup canned pumpkin
1/2 Cup sour cream
Combine all ingredients. Batter will be lumpy. Spray griddle with cooking spray or melt a pat of butter. Cook pancakes on griddle using medium heat until bubbles rise to the surface and edges are brown. Turn and bake until golden brown. Texture will be moist and velvety.

For the syrup:
1/2 Cup sugar
1 Tablespoon cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
1 Cup apple cider or apple juice
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1/2 Cup butter
Mix sugar, cornstarch, and spice in a medium saucepan. Stir in apple cider and lemon juice. Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until it boils. Turn heat to low and allow syrup to thicken. Add butter, stirring in one Tablespoon at a time. Remove from heat. Refrigerate any unused syrup for another morning (or evening!).

The Triangle

The clang was loud in the house, but I loved it. It was the sound of an old-fashioned cast iron dinner triangle. We heard it each night when supper was ready. No, I wasn't outside on a windswept prairie. I was a little girl at home in the suburbs, and that triangle--and delectable smells from the kitchen--drew us together.

Supper. Some call it dinner, but to me it will always be supper. Growing up, supper meant more than my mom's tasty, homemade meals. It meant family time. We ate, of course, but we also prayed together, relived the day, laughed, debated (argued sometimes!), or simply had moments enrobed in silence. My sister and I were taught table manners. God bless my parents' patience!

Though not realizing it at the time, we were learning slowly how to "play well with others." The memories are good. There's something special about families dining together where God is an invited guest.

At the time this felt as normal as playing hopscotch on the sidewalk out front. Now I realize the commitment it took for my parents to carve out and protect that time night after night. Today's families attempting regular mealtime--be it supper, breakfast, or another time--must battle sports, meetings, lessons, practices, and work. It's not a cake walk. Good activities encroach on great ones. At my house we're spoiled right now. Some flexibility usually ensures at least one meal together each day--a flexibility we haven't always had and don't take for granted.

I'm not naive enough to suggest that there's an easy answer. Some families who would trade their TV to spend more time together are prevented by external obstacles. ...But can you imagine what the families of this country would be like if they spent half an hour eating together just a handful of times a week?

If you've read this blog for long you know that hunches tend to find me. This is no different. My hunch is that I'm a-preachin' to the choir. ...I'm realizing this post is pretty preachy, but that's okay. I'd like to hear from the choir: what memories do you have of mealtime--past or present, good or bad? Or, what family time challenges do you notice or experience today?

...In case you're wondering, that triangle still hangs in my parents' home. I'm on the lookout for one of our own.

Ready Line

I wanted a two-minute heads up about the questions. No such luck. The camera rolled.

Have you ever been at a loss for words? Or wish you could rewind the tape and have a do over? Unless you were just born, my hunch is that we've all been in these situations--maybe daily.

I was due for for one of these. My turn came again last week. As Inigo Montoya, my favorite fencing Spaniard says, "Let me 'splain." I work for a community-based anti-drug coalition. We've gained some experience dealing with prevention of drugs such as methamphetamine. It's always a struggle, but we've collected war stories to go with the community scars.

Through a process I won't detail here, the news program Nightline heard about our coalition's meth prevention efforts and those of law enforcement drug task forces in our part of the state. They decided to come talk to people in our area for a few days. ...Including me.

Now, before you rush out to track down my autograph, I'll say that if my boss had been in town, they would've interviewed her. I was Default Chick. Nonetheless, I was up to bat and felt twinges of nervousness and confidence. I knew my part (if it survives the cutting room) will be just a smidgen of the final product for national TV. But that added more pressure; I'd better prepare and get it right. The comments I offered would reflect on my community. So I did what any smart professional does in this situation: I went shopping.

With that crucial task out of the way, I set about preparing my responses to likely questions. With help from my boss, I went over and over our most recent, relevant stats. I mentally formulated sound bite summaries. I beckoned my inner child--who was a huge ham--to gain confidence. I was ready.

Interview day came. With last-minute review sheet in hand and lipstick in place I met the crew at a local park. For this session they would interview our mayor, then me. It was all so low key and uneventful. Sure, it was interesting watching the process with cameras, being wired with a microphone, etc., but in reality it was so casual. I could handle this.

Then it was my turn. I was a mixture of calmness and stomach flutters. They stood me several feet in front of the camera. The crew clustered behind camera and reporter. Without warning, the camera rolled and the questions came. Surely all of my preparation would pay off now. And...I have almost no idea if it did. Do you ever go into a zone and then not know later what happened exactly? My hunch is that when editors review this footage, they'll see Deer-in-Headlights Girl spouting off incoherent statistics. "Um, yes, the past-30 day use of meth correlates with the seven-day forecast for Boise, according to our analysis."

Well, maybe it wasn't that bad (though it might be!), but I do harbor a morbid sense of curiosity about what was captured on film.

One thing's for sure: I'll keep my little review sheet handy for when I need it for various reasons on short notice. I see the value of always being prepared.

That's helpful for we as Christians, too. We never know when God will lead us to something during our day--a person, situation--where being prepared with His answers will be needed. Second Timothy 4:2 (NIV) says, "Be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke, and encourage--with great patience and careful instruction." Yes, Paul intended this for a pastor, but it holds water for us, too. We can't predict what God has for us each day. Questions about our faith could ambush us, or a hurting friend may need a shoulder.

We can be ready for "divine appointments" through a couple of key means. First, we can feast on His word each day. I'm focusing on "feast" and "each day." We're busy people, but chowing down on the scriptures regularly, rather than nibbling politely on Sundays, will always reap huge rewards in time. Isn't it amazing how we're talking with someone and a certain passage or topic comes up. "I was just reading about that in my Bible," you say. Discipleship's discipline meets God's opportunities. His purposes are worked out.

Similarly, we can feast our on time with Him. As I spend time with Him and submit, He works on my armor as we talk, repairing the shield, cleaning my sword, arming me in almost imperceptible ways. Then I'm ready "in season and out of season," drawing on what He's given me just when it's needed. I can fight temptation with a rebuke or offer encouragement to a wounded soul. He supplies the ready line, and I am content to be used.

So, here's my question for you: what are some other ways you've found to be ready for "divine appointments"? Or I'd love to hear about a situation when God used you unexpectedly.

You might be a writer if...

...you're in the middle of a dream at night at you think, "Oooh, I should write about this!" I heard this recently from someone else, and last night I did that myself.

I woke up inspired and smiling. What a great story this'll be! Then my eyes narrowed as I thought through the dream Mr. Sandman had delivered. Hmm. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as interesting as I thought. Perhaps people won't find it fascinating that a group stranded at a gothic, scenic overlook of a dry ocean in El Paso was about to be annihilated by a massive surge of icebergs. Funny how things seem different in the light of day.

But I can't help but hope that tonight I'll get new material. Perhaps I should seal the deal by having pumpkin pancakes for supper. They always give me odd dreams. Has anyone else found food that always gives them strange dreams?

Speaking of supper, soon I'll post some thoughts based on the most recent poll. Grab your fork and knife.

Be there, or...

If you're anywhere near Carlsbad, New Mexico this Saturday the 4th, make plans to go by Hastings between 2 - 4 p.m. Author Travis W. Inman will have a book signing for his novel, When Love Calls. If you haven't read this story, you'll get quite a treat.

Those not near Carlsbad can go to his web site to order an autographed copy. Also, don't miss out on his entertaining blog.

Listen

If you've been anywhere near civilization the last week or so (and if you're reading this, I assume you are now) you've been bombarded with newscasters' voices delivering unsavory news reports...financial crisis, candidates launching verbal darts, hurricane recovery...on and on.

It's enough to rattle a person's nerves if allowed. However, we can't ignore these happenings. Sand was not meant as a home for our heads.

Instead I'll suggest a momentary refuge. Have you noticed lately the sounds of the season? Anyone who knows me (or who reads this blog for long) knows that I love fall. The sounds around us right now aren't all unique to fall, but humor me for now. As I tap out these words, a chorus of crickets sings my neighborhood to sleep. In the mountains, breezes play aspen leaves like nature's wind chimes. Other trees surrender their leaves to tall piles in yards, laughing children crunching them with leaping cannon balls. Taking a moment to focus on small pleasures reminds me that our world still makes sense at times. I smile and thank God.

I could go on a lot longer, but I'd rather hear about your favorite seasonal sounds.

Heroes

The onslaught of TV season premieres is in full swing. Have you settled down with some popcorn and the remote lately?

There are a few shows I've been looking forward to. It did my girly heart good to see Dancing with the Stars sashay across the small screen last night. ...But that's another post. I'd love to stir up some debate with that one.

Heroes premiered last night, too. I've watched it off and on since it began, finding the storyline interesting but the action often too gory for my tastes. I did watch the two-hour premiere. It delivered breathtaking twists and turns.

One of the calmer moments has camped out in my thoughts. (Warning: vague spoiler ahead) The character of Nathan, a politician, quietly contemplates an opportunity for power and position laid out before him. He's hesitant to accept it, thinking soberly about how he misused power in the past. For a moment he has a new outlook; he's more eager to pass on the public glory than to welcome the temptation to lose his integrity again.

That scene got me thinking about our desires and ambitions, and God's role in those things. Yesterday morning I read this honest prayer in Proverbs 30:8-9 (NASB):

Keep deception and lies far from me,
Give me neither poverty nor riches;
Feed me with the food that is my portion,
That I may not be full and deny you and say, "Who is the LORD?"
Or that I not be in want and steal,
And profane the name of my God.

Does this strike you, like it did me, as totally counterculture to our society, even sometimes Christian society? We're bombarded with voices telling us that the only natural thing to do is get all you can... Money. Power. Status. Stuff. On and on. In some Christian circles we've been told that we need to invoke the Prayer of Jabez to expand our territories of influence.

Now, I'm feeling the mental darts that some of you are shooting my direction. Are you saying, Alison, that it's always wrong for Christians to have or seek out stuff or power? Of course not. I believe that God puts some Christians in positions of influence or gives them money to use for His purposes. He gives us healthy ambition for His plans.

But many of you would agree that it comes down to attitude. Am I seeking the prestige of the world or the pleasure of God? What's my focus? True, not everyone will face opportunities of having buckets of cash or holding public position, but each of us deals with this issue in some form--whatever our situation.

It's so tempting to fall into the trap of wanting people's approval and admiration instead of seeking God in all things. It takes a mature person to approach "success" and ambition with a humble attitude. I find a lot of wisdom in David's prayer in Psalm 139.

Search me O God, and know my heart;
Try me and know my anxious thoughts;
And see if there is any hurtful way in me,
And lead me in the everlasting way.

David sure had to wrestle with these issues--he was a king, for goodness' sake. He was human, too. It's encouraging to have this earnest prayer written down for us to read and follow suit. The same God he walked with is available and desires to guide us. We must seek after Him daily, giving him our dreams, ambitions, and allegiance. Although I fall flat on my face constantly, I pray that I'll pursue Him and his desires more passionately than anything I want on earth. People who live this way consistently are real-life heroes to me, and hopefully for all of us.

Sequel, Part Deux

Right now I'm watching Return to Snowy River, the sequel to The Man from Snowy River. While the first one was good, I was fuming at the end. I've been told that this one will make me mad only until about the last fourth of the movie. (sigh) I'm banking on that. Other movie franchises have proved phenomenal, while others should've never seen the light of the projector. Karate Kid II...and III come to mind.

So I'm wondering: which movie sequels have you loved? Despised? Do you think it's always a mistake to try to top a great story, or should a great movie keep the good times rolling with a follow-up?

Labor

The latest assignment for the writers' group was to write about the theme "labor". The theme was decided right before Labor Day, after all. Here's my offering. I might edit it sometime in the future because this was a scrambling-out-the-door, seven-minute effort. I've realized that I need to pace my writers' group assignments, not always putting them on the back burner for other projects.

The theme for next time is forgiveness. Hmm...


The workshop was inky dark, empty when the craftsman set to work, feet planted firmly.
Twinkle in his eye, command barely whispered…light.
Brilliance dazzled the loneliest corners of the space.

A finger lifted, oceans and sky repelled each other, taking their assigned place.
The craftsman stood, considering for but a moment.
Then expanses of land chased the oceans in retreat.
He brushed the lushness of trees and fields with his fingertips.

Day by day, new masterpieces sprung to life…
Blazing sun, watchful moon, penlight stars
Myriad creatures sounding praise

The craftsman finally stepped back and smiled, full of pleasure from his final
Masterpiece— called
Man and Woman

Then for a moment he folded his hands, resting
--yet needing no rest—
from his labor.

Another year

It's hard to believe that it's time for another 9/11 anniversary. It feels like deja vu; I remember that I was out of town last year at this time, and I'm in the exact same place this year.

Of course I remember that day seven years ago even more vividly. That has me thinking... It seems like our society today has such a short memory. We're desensitized to the crises of the day, often preferring milder "news" like celebrities' fashion blunders. I fear sometimes that in the climate of political turmoil and daily spin of stories, some are slowly forgetting, or --worse yet-- remembering a different version of it, not how horrific and unjust it truly was. Yet remembering reminds us what we have to cherish and thank God for, and that there are just causes.

So let's imagine that we're holding a time capsule for the next generation to discover 50, maybe 75 years from now. What would you want them to know about September 11, 2001? Or, what is it about this country that's worth fighting to keep?

14,600 ...

...sure beats our 3,650+ by a long shot. Days of marriage, that is. Happy 40th anniversary to my parents, Joel and Judy!

Congratulations. We're proud of you, and we love you.

Also, happy 12th anniversary to Daniel and Kara, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. Popular day to get married apparently! Anyone care to share any "secrets of a happy marriage" stories --serious or humorous?

A trip down literary lane

When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does. - Meg Ryan as Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail

Nursery rhymes. The most recent Poem Off topic got me reminiscing about things I heard and read as a kiddo. I think there 's a lot of truth to the quote above, don't you? Whether you read a little or a lot as a child, it tends to stick with you. With that in mind, come with me on this memory lane jaunt, revisiting some of my early influences--just a small sampling. Maybe it'll jog your memory too.

I've always loved reading. I guess I came by that naturally: both of my parents love to read, and my mom is a retired librarian. When I was very young, most nights my dad would read me a book that he let me pick out. I loved those times. One book in particular got chosen a lot. Horton Hatches the Egg was a Christmas gift from a neighbor. I can still hear the promise Horton repeated time after time: "I meant what I said and I said what I meant. An elephant's faithful one hundred percent!" It's a great book. I mean, how can you go wrong with Dr. Seuss? ...And a flying elephant-bird, for goodness' sake?

The Bible also captured my imagination. Sunday school each week was filled with incredible stories! The older I get the more convinced I am that God is the master storyteller. ...A boy killing a giant with a slingshot, a talking donkey, a short, little man who climbs a tree to see Jesus, a city's wall falling after only marching and shouting, a man falling out of a window and dying (and coming back to life!) because he fell asleep, walking on water... who else could make up this stuff? And it's all true! Genius, to understate the obvious.


Poetry. Not everyone associates little kids and classic poetry recitation. Mrs. Ables, my second grade teacher sure did, and it scared the jeepers out of me. We had to choose between two poems, memorize it, and recite it in front of class. Despite being the bold tomboy that I was back then, that thought made me nervous. Mrs. Ables encouraged us by reciting a poem her teacher made her memorize in second grade. My eyes got big. I didn't know that someone "old" like her could remember that far back. (Oh, how perspectives change!) I chose Robert Lewis Stevenson's "The Swing," and even survived reciting it for my class.

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!


Ramona Quimby was another one of my literary buddies. I loved Beverly Cleary's books about this little girl around my age, and by coincidence we even had the same awful haircut. It made me feel a little better about that. I saw a lot of myself in her and her family, and it was plain fun following her escapades.

I've already had a request for a post about literary influences as an adult. That will come later. For now, I'd love to know what stories you remember from your childhood.

The Battle Rages On...

...in the second round of the Poem Off. Make sure you go to Travis W. Inman's blog to read the entries and vote. Fireworks, giants, treasure chests -- this battle has something for everyone. Voting ends Thursday morning!

I'm still wondering what the prize will be.

Year of Hmmm...

It's hard for me to believe, but today it's been one year since I started this blog. It's been more fun than I imagined. That's thanks to all of you who read and participate--I appreciate it. Hopefully you'll keep finding reasons to be a part of this. Thanks again.

Rhyme and Reason

Happy Thursday to all...

Don't forget to enter the latest Poem Off over at Travis W. Inman's blog. This should be a really fun one. I have no idea what my finished product will be like, but it's starting to churn in my head. Entries are due by this Sunday night.

Switching gears, I have a little update for you. Some of you ask me from time to time how my writing is going. I had a couple of developments last week. First, I found out that another member of the writers' group I've been attending decided to help me along in my writing pursuits. =) This is a dear, older gentleman who always has a twinkle in his eye and something up his sleeve. From our group time he had a copy of a couple of my poems--one I had actually labored over, and one I threw together for a group assignment. My phone rings a couple of weeks later, and it's a writing professor who helps publish a local, periodic, literary gazette. Apparently the gentleman took it upon himself to submit my poems for me. They're being considered for inclusion in the publication, and the professor said they'll most likely be in there. She realized that I didn't know they were submitted and called to get my permission. Not to take anything away from the other writers, but while it's a compliment, this isn't like winning Poet Laureate status. Still, it's nice to hopefully be included. Now I need to be extra careful what I bring to the group!

Update Number Two: I registered for the Glorieta Christian Writers' Conference in October. I'm very, very excited (grinning as I write this)! Three hundred-plus attendees and lots of professional writers, editors, and agents will be there. I've been thinking and praying about this for months--David, too. I've been torn partly because that's the same time as Reality Weekend, one of the biggest events for our youth group each year. Isn't it often a challenge to struggle with multiple priorities and callings on your life? I felt guilty for even considering "skipping out" on our teenagers, and had about decided not to go to the conference. But after more prayer and talking with David, we decided together that God wants me to go. David is so supportive, which is invaluable to me.

While there I'm hoping ta lurn how ta write bettur, maybe meet some new friends, and learn more about the business, which is fascinating to me. It's still hard for me sometimes to tell people that God has called me to write, especially since I don't know what direction He wants me to take. But I do know that He wants me to make tracks to Glorieta...and I can't wait to go.

Let's get ready to rumble!

Here we go again...it's time for another Poem-Off!

But this time, someone else is hosting the festivities and will provide the prize. If you haven't done so already, head on over to Travis W. Inman's blog and join in the vote!

Just Like Riding a Bike

Here's my latest little ditty I created for the writers' group. The challenge was to write a story about something funny that's happened to you.

It was a perfect day. Blue skies, mild temperatures, the sound of a soft breeze in the palm trees, and the vibrant scent of orchids—a beautiful Florida afternoon. My parents, sister, and I were enjoying our vacation thoroughly. It would be the last vacation with just the four of us before I got married in a few months. Melissa, my older sister, had been given a free week at a timeshare resort in Orlando and wanted to share it with the rest of the family. …So there we were, relaxing at this large, hilly resort filled with condos.

The property offered lots of activities for its guests. Swimming, tennis, walking trails…and biking, among other things. “Hmm,” Melissa and I mused while deciding how to spend the afternoon. “How about getting a couple of bikes?” she suggested. Sure, why not? I thought. It’ll be fun. We haven’t ridden bikes in years, but how hard could it be? Just like riding a bike, right? I chuckled inwardly at my own wittiness. As we chose our bicycles from a small supply outside the main lobby, I could already picture Melissa and me, gazing at the trees and plants along the bike path, riding gracefully.

There was one problem with that picture: The resort had no bike paths. In reality our ride would meander through the narrow roads of the property, lined with cars in parking spaces next to the three-story buildings. “That’s okay,” I said with a carpe diem attitude.

“You ready? Let’s go.” Melissa was pedaling, and I hurried to mount my bike and follow her. The ride turned out to be just as pleasant and fun as I’d pictured, only with towering buildings instead of towering trees. The wind in my face and hair was refreshing, and it felt good simply to be alive. I took a deep breath and smiled.

Then we gained speed as we headed down a hill. Just then, my eyes suddenly came into sharp focus. Melissa, looking like a Tour de France rider, made a skillful, last-minute right turn onto a side street. She quickly disappeared from sight, assuming I was behind her. I jolted to attention and scrambled to follow, leaning to the right as much as I dared.

Bonk! It was too late. I rebounded on my bike as my front tire ran perpendicular into the front tire of an SUV. I blinked in surprise. …The SUV was expensive. The SUV was running. The SUV was occupied, waiting to turn onto the road we’d been following. Stunned but not hurt, I sat on my bike and stared at two sets of eyes staring back at me, about three feet from my face. The eyes’ owners were a middle-aged man and one who appeared to be the man’s son and about my age. I was speechless and mortified. The car engine’s humming filled the silence.

Finally, the man turned and said something in Italian to his son. The son had an annoyed expression on his face, but he slowly slid from his seat and came around the front of the SUV to me. I was desperate to not look as ridiculous as I felt. Luckily, my shock led me utter brilliance. Shifting into the mindset I’ve had after car fender benders, I blurted to this guy, “Are you okay?” --Like my innocuous bicycle could inflict bodily harm through the armor of a car. I cringed at my words and turned crimson. The Italian son stifled a smile and said nothing. I settled on rolling back a couple of feet, and we looked over the SUV. No damage; the car would live. Unlike my dignity. We all muttered some sort of farewell, and I wheeled toward where I’d last seen my sister.

Seconds later, she glided up to me. “Where have you been?”

Poem-Off: And the winner is...

We have a winner of the first Poem-Off. And that winner is... (trumpet music) David Bryant! Of course, he wrote the epic poem about the bear. Great job! For your efforts, David, you get this picture of a crown (the British monarchy is borrowing it from you for a while) and a batch of brownies.

I will say that he put a lot of effort in this. The story cracks me up, and I'm glad he wrote it. So, if you ever have drunk bear problems, you know now to call on Hasselhoff. Hmmm...maybe he should be the emcee of our next challenge...

Do you want to know who wrote each one? Here's the list:
Poem 1: Travis W. Inman
Poem 2: Alison
Poem 3: Travis W. Inman
Poem 4: Alison
Poem 5: David Bryant

And I would like to again say thanks to Travis for throwing the gauntlet. I think he knew exactly what he was doing and knew we'd all have fun with it. I really enjoyed his poems, too.

Thanks to you who voted...hope you had a good time.