Author: BeverlyArmyWilliams

“The Third Thing that Killed My Father Off” is told in the first person point of view in thirteen sections. Although the title uses the phrase “killed off,” the first line of the story sets up the tale as what “did in” the narrator’s father (198). The expectation that the narrator sets up is that this is a story about his father, but to my way of reading, it is a story about Dummy. More than the meaning of the story, though, I’m interested in looking at the construction of it. Carver writes in what I’ve heard called The New Yorker style. This isn’t so much about the language or plot or characters as it is about structure. The story is broken into sections, which show shifts in time and/or understanding of information.
The first section sets up the entire story. If Carver were sitting next to me, I might be satisfied with hearing the first section on its own as a whole story. Sure, there would be questions raised, but the narrative arc is all there. There are no surprises for the reader. We know Dummy will die. We know the things that “did in” the narrator’s father. We know there are problems with Dummy’s wife, with his fish, and we know that the father takes the blame about the fish, at least.Curious as I am, though, I want details. The story in section one doesn’t quite satisfy because the information raises too many questions. How does he die? What’s the deal with the wife? The fish? Why does this do in the father?
Despite the straightforward language and linear structure, I find this a difficult story to navigate. I’m left with a lot of questions, which I don’t mind at all, but I do wonder if these questions are the mystery of the story. What, exactly, was it about Dummy’s death that did in the father? I can make guesses, but ultimately I think that the answer, for us as well as the narrator, is unknowable.

Um, I posted and published, but the post has disappeared. So, sometimes pretty part deux.

Back in the 80s when I was younger than I am now, I would have identified my look as “vintage punk” or “thrift store punk.” My prom gown was a swank black number from the 30s. I liked pretty with an edge. I still like that edge, although it’s less about safety pins and irony than it used to be. Sometimes, though, all I want is to exude the class of Audrey Hepburn. Good luck, I know. Spring is in the air in Albuquerque. I promised Neal to go outside and look for buds on the trees. And spring, more than anything, makes me believe that indeed, pretty is enough.

I’m cranky from not sleeping enough during the last ten days. I miss my guy. I miss my pups. I miss the East. So…even though I know I’ll be saying how much I miss NM once I’m gone, this here countdown makes me miss Neal and the girls a little less…

I’m a sucker for Crazy Aunt Purl’s horoscopes. Here’s mine:

Would you like fries with that Quarter Pounder of Stress? Your commitments to school or work combined with the constant demands from your family and friends have you near the end of your rope this month. That urge to escape your life and run on autopilot is particularly strong near month’s end. You might begin harboring serious fantasies of sitting alone on a mountaintop and pondering your navel. Take a deep breath, clear you calendar for at least one full day in February, and commit to some serious alone time before you become commit-able. You may long for a padded room … but I hear that straightjackets make your butt look big.

Um, yeah. End of the rope. Maybe I’ll take a day off in June. Sure.

Sure, I like February an awful lot. It’s my birthday month. It’s a short month, but it’s jam packed with excitement. Including Sockapaloooza, which I dreamed about last night. I dreamt (see how I’m trying out both past tenses since our language is so plastic) that I got my sister MB as my giftee. Convenient since I promised her a pair of socks as part of her Christmas gift.

Today another beginning. The elegant, lovely Whip Up went live today.

And…the Neal countdown begins. Eight days. 192 hours, more or less.

Happy February!

Yup, you read it right. I started boxing lessons today. Reverend Chris Jones, a poet in the UNM MFA program is giving lessons to me and another school pal. We jumped rope. We shadowboxed. We embarrassed ourselves with bad punches. But there were a few good ones in there. And damn, did they feel good. Million Dollar Baby, I ain’t, but I’m still serious about it!

We Abq SnB’ers get a hold of something fun and it spreads like wild fire. Take this, for instance, on Strange Little Mama’s blog. Or Mama-E’s Show Me Your Stash Monday. And this meme, which has been changing hands like a bad penny. But good. So, here goes.

Instructions: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot.
Knitorious
Woman Obsessed
Scout’s Knitted Swag
MookittyKnitting
Wearing Black in New Mexico

I’m tagging Mama-E, Adam Knits, Cari, and Erin.

What were you doing 10 years ago? Living with my ex-husband in a moldy basement apartment, working for Teatown Lake Reservation and finishing up my BA at Mercy College. Despite the mold, it was a very happy time.

What were you doing 1 year ago? Starting my second semester in UNM’s MFA program. Closing on my townhouse.

What were you doing 1 hour ago? Finishing up “Silence,” my first Creative Non-Fiction piece to submit to workshop on Wednesday.

List five creative things you want to achieve this year:
1. Write a full draft of my dissertation novel, “Queen of the Tobacco Field”
2. Become an adept spinner
3. Keep a watercolor journal
4. Start my Etsy shop
5. Learn Cat Bordhi’s mobeius cast on method

List five snacks you enjoy:
1. ginger cookies
2. Milk crackers crumbled in hot tea with milk and sugar
3. hummus and carrots
4. ice cubes
5. whoopie pies

List five things you would do if money were no object:
1. Ride my bike across the country
2. Buy a villa in Tuscany and live there part of every year
3. Buy a beach or lake house for my family
4. Set up a foundation to support young artists
5. Go to the Globe every season for every play

List five bad habits:
1. Distracted from homework by the Internet
2. Don’t hold my tongue when I really disagree about something
3. Forget to moisturize my skin (no biggie in CT, but BAD in NM)
4. Don’t drink near enough water
5. Never listen to driving directions. If they’re not written down, I’m not following them.

List five things you like doing:
1. Knitting
2. Reading
3. Chasing the dogs around the woods
4. Watching plays (especially Shakespeare. Especially outside)
5. Kyaking with Neal

List five favorite gadgets:
1. Pink i-pod mini
2. My laptop, which I use to play dvd’s, too!
3. The frother that makes my hot chocolate so yummy
4. Swift and ball winder
5. Knitting needlesN

ame one thing you like about yourself: I’m really forgiving.

Today I decided to read a story from a collection recommended by my workshop professor from last semester. There were two she recommended from Blow Up and Other Stories by Julio Cortazar, and I chose “Letter to a Young Lady in Paris.”

I’m not convinced entirely by this story. I always wonder when I read translated texts what I’m missing, and I just won’t know unless I learn Spanish. The tone of the story is a bit formal, but the content is crazy fun, albeit disturbing.

You see, our narrator, the fellow writing the letters to the lady from whom he’s subletting the apartment pukes bunnies. Yup, you heard me right. Walking up the stairs, there’s a little fuzziness in his throat, and blechh, up comes a bunny. For some reason that I don’t get, he’s doing a lot of puking after he moves into the apartment. Ten bunnies, and a housekeeper named Sara from whom he’s trying to hide the bunnies. Then tragedy strikes.

I’m not one to give away plots, so I won’t reveal said tragedy. I will reveal that despite some problems with the plot–mainly concerned around my never feeling convinced about the odd upchuck–I did enjoy the language. Cortazar writes with a high level of particularity. The details and images are on the spot. That’s worth spending half an hour with a short story, isn’t it?

Tell me what stories you’ve been reading.

To celebrate, I’ve searched out my horoscope. Can you guess what I am? My compatibility with Dog is pretty high, which means that I will have a good year. Don’t I always? I’m a Monkey, after all!

By the way, the contest to guess what I’m making on Sewing Sunday (aka Superbowl Sunday) is still open. I’ll keep it open until Friday at 5 p.m. Then the closest guess wins!

In knitting news, I felted the swatches from my gauge experiment to use to finish up my fancy green felted bag. I’ll have pictures by the end of the week.

Ok, I created this post here, copied it here, then here, but none of the pictures showed up on blogger. So go to one of my trial sites to see them, ok? By the way…what do you think, should I stay Wearing Black in New Mexico when I move? Or become Wearing Black in New England?

Last night I taught two women how to knit at Crafty Friday. Thanks to everyone who came over, including Trevor, Liz’s dear hubby, who knits and tends the fire to keep us all warm. And carries chairs. Trevor rocks.
At Tuesday’s SnB, Scout gave me this for winning her “two days to knit” contest. Nifty tool holder, don’tchya think?

I met Ramona at Village Wools, where I bought yarn for my Secret Pal. So although it was a purchase, it was not for me. I can’t give my SP stash yarn, can I? Doesn’t seem right to me. On my way home, I stopped and bought this 100% cashmere sweater:
I have two thoughts on how to use this. One is as a part of Sewing Sunday next week in which I will create products for the Etsy store I plan to open (stay tuned). The other is to frog it and use the yarn to knit something else. I guess a third is to try on the darn thing and see how it fits. Maybe it’s going to be cute on.
I also purchased this fabric, which I think you’ll see better if you click on it. There’s a sweet green plaidish type of stuff, a plain muslin, a silky Oriental-ish fabric, and best of all, a fabu purple fake fur. See how my hand likes to pet it? First person to guess what I’m making next week on Sewing Sunday will get a prize. Ramona can’t play!

I’m playing around with a new blog. Scout set this up for me over coffee this morning (well, I had coffee in my jammies…don’t know if she was doing the same): Wearing Black in New England. Sad, but true. Someday, that’s where I’ll be sporting it like Johnny Cash. I’ve also been messing around with the free trial at Typepad: Wearing Black in New Mexico. That site looks a little ugly right now as I was trying to load the banner Carole made me, but got tired before I succeeded. Anyway, I welcome your ideas re: pros and cons of each platform.