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Math and Dogs

Alex Terrgi here. Despite what humans think, dogs can do math. We can count. Let me illustrate. Every morning after my human makes her disgusting swill called coffee, she reaches for the jar on the counter that says “Cookies” on it. (We can read, too.) The jar doesn’t contain human-type cookies, though. It contains dog cookies. So when my human reaches for the jar, I know she is going to give me something yummy.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but the word “cookies” absolutely means MORE THAN ONE COOKIE. When this morning ritual began, my human gave me two cookie treats from the jar every morning. Sometimes she even gave me three. (See, I told you dogs can count.) But recently she has cut back on the cookies. Nowdays I only get ONE! (Which is less than 3, also less than 2. More math.) This is not acceptable.

She says it’s for my own good. I don’t know where she gets her ideas.

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Night Wind

For the past 20+ years I’ve written one haiku every day. They’re not always good haiku, although some of them are excellent. (Check out my 7-book haiku series called The Haiku Book of Days.) A few years ago I added another daily practice, which I call the “daily draw.” I create some kind of image, and many times that image owes its inspiration to my daily haiku. I’m calling them “illustrated haiku” and someday the haiku and its illustration may blossom into a new haiku book. In the meantime, I’ll share a few of them here on the blog. Here’s today’s offering. Enjoy!

open your windows
while you dream your hair will rise
to meet the night winds

Recovering Hope

I’m in the middle of my project of ghostwriting essays (for free) about this time in American history and how people are responding and contributing and acting – and how they are making a positive difference. Every time I do another interview I am inspired by the courage, dedication, perseverance and empathy in the story I’m being told. I can recover my hope, because although hatred, bigotry and fear are loud right now, those negative stories are not the majority of American stories. Not even close. We all need to speak up and share our stories of love, equality, justice, strength, and courage. I hope my ghostwriting efforts will contribute a tiny bit to this effort.

If you’d like more information about this free offer, please see my blog post of April 3rd or here.

 

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Bunnies

For the past 20+ years I’ve written one haiku every day. They’re not always good haiku, although some of them are excellent. (Check out my 7-book haiku series called The Haiku Book of Days.) A few years ago I added another daily practice, which I call the “daily draw.” I create some kind of image, and many times that image owes its inspiration to my daily haiku. I’m calling them “illustrated haiku” and someday the haiku and its illustration may blossom into a new haiku book. In the meantime, I’ll share a few of them here on the blog. Here’s today’s offering. Enjoy!

  

legends often lie
no matter what you’ve been told

bunnies don’t lay eggs

Dog Park Humans

Alex Terrgi here. I’m not the only dog author in my family. Here’s what it says on page 47 of my fur-sister Goody’s book Dog Park Diary.

On Saturdays there are always a lot of dogs at the Dog Park. There are lots of humans too. They sit around in groups and talk to each other. Some of them laugh and tell jokes. Others complain about what bad shape the world is in. They have almost as much fun as we do.

One of the reasons humans like the dog park is that they don’t have to get dressed up to come here. In fact, they seem to compete with each other for who can wear the grubbiest clothes.

Goody was such a good writer! Don’t you agree?

Hint: if you want to read Goody’s book, Amazon will sell it to you.

Books

It’s Haiku Friday. For the past 20+ years I’ve written one haiku every day. They’re not always good haiku, although some of them are excellent. (Check out my 7-book haiku series called The Haiku Book of Days.) A few years ago I added another daily practice, which I call the “daily draw.” I create some kind of image, and many times that image owes its inspiration to my daily haiku. I’m calling them “illustrated haiku” and someday the haiku and its illustration may blossom into a new haiku book. In the meantime, I’ll share a few of them here on the blog. Here’s today’s offering. Enjoy!

  

recipe for joy:
coffee and flowers and books
lots and lots of books

 

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Choose Your Role

I believe we are living through a defining time in American history right now. We are all a part of this history. Someday your children, grandchildren, or descendants will want to know what role you played in this historic time. What do you want them to find?

Right now many of us are feeling discouraged, even despair – which leads to a feeling of helplessness – which in turn leads to giving up. And when we give up, everyone loses. I think the antidote to despair is always action. Do Something.

And the best thing to do is something that draws upon your talents, experience, or passion. I looked at my own attributes to see what I could do. I’ve been a ghostwriter for nearly twenty years, and I know how powerful sharing stories can be. So I decided to offer to ghostwrite – for free – some short personal essays for people who are contributing and acting and don’t have the time or desire to write their stories down. I hope history will thank us.

If you are interested in this offer, more information about how it works you can read about it here.

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Flying Pigs

Taking a short hiatus from blogging. I’ll be back in April. In the meantime, you can follow me on Facebook. You can friend me on Facebook or like my Facebook Author Page. For instance,  here’s what I shared on Facebook a few days ago:

Flying Pigs

I used to have doubts that I would ever be a full-time writer – after all, for years I was a single mom with a demanding job in a high tech industry. I wrote “on the side” when I had time. (Like I had any extra time.) So yeah, I’d be a full time writer “when pigs fly” – right?

Then one day I was at a street fair with my youngest daughter and spied this glass pig with wings at a booth. It called to me. (Evidently it was not only a flying pig but a singing pig as well). This flying/singing pig still inhabits the windowsill right above my desk – where I have written many books over the past 20 years, working as a full time writer. Pigs actually do fly. I have proof.

Feedback Fun: Boxes in the Closet #4

3d coffinFor the next few months I will be sharing bits of my works-in-progress. This month I’m featuring “The Boxes in the Closet”, a memoir of my parents’ love story set during World War II. The book has four “voices” – first person in my voice in the Introduction and Epilog; a narrative written in third-person; first person in the voice of my father Armond; and first person in the voice of my mother Lois. The “bits” I’m sharing are all opening paragraphs of chapters or sub-heads in chapters.

This is because I want reader feedback. Opening paragraphs are always the most important. Without a good opening, many people won’t read the rest. That’s the question I’d like answered – would you read on?

Here are Chapter Three’s opening paragraph and first paragraph of a first person narrative:

Chapter Three:  Caskets to Roads

In 1937 Armond was 19 and in common with many adults as well as teens, could not find steady work. Although he had gone back to school for a short time after returning from his railroad adventure, he quit a year before graduation in order to go to work to help support his family. The only job he could find was as a janitor and apprentice carpenter in a casket factory. He didn’t like the work, but he figured a casket factory was safer than other jobs – after all, just as many people were dying during the Depression as they had before.

and

Armond: The Ditch Digger Poet

I didn’t like leaving home and my mother, even though I was almost 21. That sounds like I was a mama’s boy, and it is true that I loved my mother, but the reason I didn’t want to leave her was because she took care of everyone, but no one took care of her. I had tried my best. Now it seemed like the best I could do was leave. The CCCs paid $30 a month, and $25 of that would be automatically sent to her. Twenty-five dollars bought a lot of groceries. The thought of that $25 made me feel good, like I was at last helping put food on Mother’s table, even if I would not be there to help with all her other chores.

Thank you for reading. I’d love to know if you want to read on.

Grief

PhilosophersToday my haiku is from February 24th of my book A Haiku Book of Days for Philosophers, Scientists, and Other Ponderers, one of a 7-book series. The topic for today is: Grief

after it’s over
and we’ve said our last goodbyes
grief knocks on our door

It’s Haiku Friday again. For the past twenty years or so, it has been my practice to write one haiku every day. Every Friday I share a haiku here, about whatever topic I happen to choose. I invite you to write a haiku on this topic too, and share it with me and the readers of this blog. Just write it in the Comments below. The only rules are: 1) your haiku must be about the named topic; 2) you must follow the 5-7-5 syllable format; 3) no obscenities or hate (I will delete those). That’s it.

You can purchase this book on Amazon here.