Cyber Friends

Recently one of my Facebook friends wrote

"I love sitting in my living room on a gray, rainy day reading FB and feeling like my friends and relatives are near and knowing a little bit of what they are up to. I know it's a counterfeit form of intimacy, but it beats only seeing y'all at reunions and funerals!"

That got my attention.

This friend was, for years, My Best Friend. And then life scattered us willy-nilly. We've reconnected through Facebook.

Is cyber friendship real? I had thought about this before. I have made lifetime friends on an Internet group called Whippet World. I have gotten to know people through their blogs, and through their comments on this blog. I care about these folks. I miss them when I'm not able to communicate in cyberland. (Too much of that going around lately!)

I think I get to know the hearts of these online friends. Their very center. I've revealed things about myself on my own blog that would be nearly impossible to talk about in real life, except with my husband or My Best Friend. And I have stared at my computer, covering my mouth to hold in a sob as I read of a bad diagnosis received by a wonderful man in another country. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I have leaked tears all over one of my worried dogs when I read that someone I've never met has lost a pet. I'm so very, very sorry, I write. I will hold you in my heart.

There is time to sit, to reflect, and to delete. We can distill.

Of course, we all know that anonymity of cyberspace also brings out the very ugliest of human conversation. Which is I guess the dark side of all this good.

Because I think it is good that whole communities are out there, being present to each other. Showing that they care. Listening. Pouring out their hearts and allowing me to care. Making me smile and laugh. Sitting alone in my little sewing/computer room laughing so hard that I have to get up and pee.

I imagine pen pals of the 1800's. Distant cousins, or long-separated acquaintances. Casual friendships which deepened. Sharing intimacies in their letters, which were shared with none of their real friends.

I think it all comes down to the power of the written word. And our power to care.

So let me quote my wise friend again.

"I love sitting in my living room on a gray, rainy day reading FB and feeling like my friends and relatives are near and knowing a little bit of what they are up to."

Me too.

hug your hounds and your Internet friends

Sammy the Saint and Literary Doings

It's been a fun-packed time around these parts.

I went to my first-ever writers' retreat and learned oh my gosh so much. The presenters (see below for some great book recommendations) were enormously talented, and helpful, and funny, and did I mention talented? As were the other participants. I think I did a very bad job of being me: I felt like I said exactly the wrong thing at every opportunity; like I picked the absolute wrong choice of my writing to read; like I was a big impostor who-did-I-think-I-was boob for being there. Do you know what I mean?

I felt like I had shrunk so far as to be nearly invisible.

But once I cast aside my ego, bruised and pulpy from nothing but my own demons pounding the poop out of it, I emerged more educated, more determined, and strangely - after a couple of weeks of being back home with the dogs and Bill - more confident.

Our Kennel Club hosted our four day autumn Agility Trial. Two words? It. Rocked. I stayed too busy to be frustrated by the fact that Sammy wasn't entered. For the most part. But the judges were happy, the competitors were happy, the club members were happy, and the facility was great. We got the most spectators ever and they loved it. The dogs were spectacular. The club fed dinner to about eighty guests and I'm still full!

And yesterday Sam I Am and I did a book signing/reading at Western Kentucky Community and Technical College. I am not usually that nervous at a reading. But the recent humility of the writers' retreat, coupled with the fact that I would know so many in the audience, including and especially Bill, I was a mess and a half.

It poured. I mean there were flash floods and closed roads. I followed Heather (of Emmett and Baby Ben fame), and as we walked to the library I thought, If Heather weren't leading me I'd never find this place, and if I knew where it was I surely wouldn't come in this rain.

I figured I'd be reading to Bill, Heather, Kim who invited me to read, and Lee, who was bringing Bill. The thought of no one coming made me even more nervous.

But they did come. Lots of people. Oh I was glad to have Sam I Am with me. At first he was confused: since when were his Bill and his Heather and his Lee and his walking buddy Tracey at a therapy setting or a reading? But he was so good. I usually bring a little bed for him, but I forgot, so I put his coat on the floor.

Heather sat in the front row, and when she cried during Opie's Song, Sam sat with her for a bit. When I read The Wild Dinner Party and he heard his name, he rejoined me at the podium. The audience was so very kind and generous. I stumbled over more words than usual because of my nervousness, but folks were forgiving. My sweet friend Deb came and took these pictures. Thanks, Deb.

These stories are always so well received. They certainly aren't great literature. They're just little stories. But I think it's because they come from the dogs. That's why people like to hear and read them.

They come straight from the dogs, and all of our dogs speak the same language, don't they?

hug your hounds

Or better yet, sneak them cookies like Lee did! You ROCK, Lee!

*** Book recommendations from the writers' retreat:

We All Live Downstream - Writings About Mountaintop Removal

edited by Jason Howard

Can A Democrat Get Into Heaven

hysterical!!! by Anne Shelby

The King of Gaheena

by Squire Babcock

Eli the Good

by Silas House

I'm here!!!

SShhhhhhh! We're taking a break at the writers' conference. It's GREAT! But I feel like a pretender. They asked us to introduce ourselves at first, and said we could say anything, because nobody knows any better. (Uh-oh, grin.)

So I said, "I'm Patience Renzulli, and my debut novel just made it to 23rd on the NYTimes Bestseller's List."

Everyone's eyes sharpened and their mouths made little o's.

And then we all laughed!

hug your hounds and mine for me

Proud

Delia and her Bill

I'm proud of my husband.

He is on his way to Louisville to make a presentation to the whoop-tee-doo Movers and Shakers and Shapers of our state. We were asked to speak about how the arts can influence a community. I have other commitments, so Bill is going it alone. And oh are they going to love him!

He has worked on his Power Point presentation. He will speak with only some jotted notes, because he knows his subject and he has practiced and worked it all out. He will make his audience laugh, and think, and think some more, and grow. And laugh some more.

This is a man who wrote:

Our lives are a series of choices, usually far more than we ever appreciate. The fortunate person is one who recognizes the choices, and has the courage and the will to make the choices they desire, regardless of the difficulty and risk. Windows of opportunity will exist, often quite fleetingly, and the greater the opportunity the smaller the window.

(From Bill's beautiful book, Have I Told You Today That I Love You )

Delia was sleeping, all curled up under blankets in Bill's study, when Bill took his suitcase out to the car this morning. I will have to let her trot around his studio several times throughout today and tomorrow, to see for herself that he's not there. She won't believe me. He did say goodbye to her, but I'm pretty sure she thought he was simply going to the Post Office or the grocery store.

Bill has started a weekly email promotion. He will be offering two of his small originals at special prices. Here are the first two:

Salmon Sky, watercolor 5" x 8" $90

Summer Day, watercolor, 4" x 6" $60

If you would like to be put on the mailing list, email Bill

I'm going to my first ever writer's gathering/conference on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. It will be small and rather intimate, and I will feel inspired, insecure, under-educated, delighted, and just plain scared to death! It is hosted by a publishing house and the speakers, leaders and other guests are all way more accomplished than I am.

But it's one of those little windows Bill was talking about, isn't it? I will feel oh so humble and like a teensy happy flea jumping around trying to listen and learn. I'll do my best, that's all.

I want Bill to be able to be just half as proud of me as I am of him.

hug your hounds and your inspirations