RIP Kurt Vonnegut

It was summer of 1998. I was 19. My short story, "The Driving Force," had won second place in a Young Writer's Contest for the Hampton Shorts, which was a short story anthology that published stories written by people who live or lived in the Hamptons of New York. The ceremony was to be held in East Hampton, someplace posh and outdoors, with tents and a buffet and stuff. A reporter for the Sag Harbor Express interviewed me about my story, and wrote that at the ceremony, I would meet the "literary lions" including George Plimpton, Edward Albee, Joe Pintauro, Joseph Heller and Kurt Vonnegut. I was told by the editors at Hampton Shorts that my story would be published next to the first place winner's story in the latest issue, and I'd receive a cash prize.
So my parents dropped me off, and yes it was very posh and pretty, lots of people in expensive clothes. I was standing in the grass chatting with the girl who had won first place, and she looked over near the tent, and her jaw dropped and her eyes widened and she whispered, "Oh my god, it's Kurt Vonnegut and Joseph Heller!"
I looked and saw a man with a huge shock of white hair talking to a shorter guy with a beer belly and messy salt and pepper hair and an unmistakeable mustache, who seemed mildly jovial, if not somewhat drunk. He was holding a glass of wine. We stood there swallowing and stammering for a few minutes, not sure if we should go over and say hi. Literary lions, indeed! Finally, we did, meekly, and told the two men how influential they were and how wonderful their books were, and to Mr. Vonnegut I praised "Breakfast Of Champions" and "Slaughterhouse Five" of course. And they thanked us kindly, though Vonnegut's eyes were lidded and his face flushed; and she and I skittered back as politely as we could, hearts pounding.
I did get the envelope that held the check that was my prize. Unfortunately, no, I was not published. They had only published the first place winner. Yes, it was a huge disappointment. However, George Plimpton and Spaulding Gray (may they rest in peace) said they loved my story, and in fact so did everyone I talked to later, especially the editor in chief of the anthology. They wished it could have been first place. Spaulding Gray's daughter was the first to tell me so, the sweetheart.
When I set up my website later on and added a Fiction section, that story, "The Driving Force," went up immediately. Testament to the fact that while I was not published, I was now a name, somehow, in a small circle of greats, or at least some of them might remember me, if not the two giants I had met in person.
(Oh, and Spaulding Gray offered to drive me home, but Mom was there and I was catatonic with OMGallthesegreatwritersmeeep)
Yesterday, Kurt Vonnegut died. The fourth literary lion I met from that day in East Hampton. May he rest well, and may he live on with Plimpton, Heller, and Gray, and may he be immortal through his work. That is all anyone ever hopes for.
Goodbye, Mr. Vonnegut.

RIP Kurt Vonnegut

It was summer of 1998. I was 19. My short story, "The Driving Force," had won second place in a Young Writer's Contest for the Hampton Shorts, which was a short story anthology that published stories written by people who live or lived in the Hamptons of New York. The ceremony was to be held in East Hampton, someplace posh and outdoors, with tents and a buffet and stuff. A reporter for the Sag Harbor Express interviewed me about my story, and wrote that at the ceremony, I would meet the "literary lions" including George Plimpton, Edward Albee, Joe Pintauro, Joseph Heller and Kurt Vonnegut. I was told by the editors at Hampton Shorts that my story would be published next to the first place winner's story in the latest issue, and I'd receive a cash prize.
So my parents dropped me off, and yes it was very posh and pretty, lots of people in expensive clothes. I was standing in the grass chatting with the girl who had won first place, and she looked over near the tent, and her jaw dropped and her eyes widened and she whispered, "Oh my god, it's Kurt Vonnegut and Joseph Heller!"
I looked and saw a man with a huge shock of white hair talking to a shorter guy with a beer belly and messy salt and pepper hair and an unmistakeable mustache, who seemed mildly jovial, if not somewhat drunk. He was holding a glass of wine. We stood there swallowing and stammering for a few minutes, not sure if we should go over and say hi. Literary lions, indeed! Finally, we did, meekly, and told the two men how influential they were and how wonderful their books were, and to Mr. Vonnegut I praised "Breakfast Of Champions" and "Slaughterhouse Five" of course. And they thanked us kindly, though Vonnegut's eyes were lidded and his face flushed; and she and I skittered back as politely as we could, hearts pounding.
I did get the envelope that held the check that was my prize. Unfortunately, no, I was not published. They had only published the first place winner. Yes, it was a huge disappointment. However, George Plimpton and Spaulding Gray (may they rest in peace) said they loved my story, and in fact so did everyone I talked to later, especially the editor in chief of the anthology. They wished it could have been first place. Spaulding Gray's daughter was the first to tell me so, the sweetheart.
When I set up my website later on and added a Fiction section, that story, "The Driving Force," went up immediately. Testament to the fact that while I was not published, I was now a name, somehow, in a small circle of greats, or at least some of them might remember me, if not the two giants I had met in person.
(Oh, and Spaulding Gray offered to drive me home, but Mom was there and I was catatonic with OMGallthesegreatwritersmeeep)
Yesterday, Kurt Vonnegut died. The fourth literary lion I met from that day in East Hampton. May he rest well, and may he live on with Plimpton, Heller, and Gray, and may he be immortal through his work. That is all anyone ever hopes for.
Goodbye, Mr. Vonnegut.

RIP Kurt Vonnegut

It was summer of 1998. I was 19. My short story, "The Driving Force," had won second place in a Young Writer's Contest for the Hampton Shorts, which was a short story anthology that published stories written by people who live or lived in the Hamptons of New York. The ceremony was to be held in East Hampton, someplace posh and outdoors, with tents and a buffet and stuff. A reporter for the Sag Harbor Express interviewed me about my story, and wrote that at the ceremony, I would meet the "literary lions" including George Plimpton, Edward Albee, Joe Pintauro, Joseph Heller and Kurt Vonnegut. I was told by the editors at Hampton Shorts that my story would be published next to the first place winner's story in the latest issue, and I'd receive a cash prize.
So my parents dropped me off, and yes it was very posh and pretty, lots of people in expensive clothes. I was standing in the grass chatting with the girl who had won first place, and she looked over near the tent, and her jaw dropped and her eyes widened and she whispered, "Oh my god, it's Kurt Vonnegut and Joseph Heller!"
I looked and saw a man with a huge shock of white hair talking to a shorter guy with a beer belly and messy salt and pepper hair and an unmistakeable mustache, who seemed mildly jovial, if not somewhat drunk. He was holding a glass of wine. We stood there swallowing and stammering for a few minutes, not sure if we should go over and say hi. Literary lions, indeed! Finally, we did, meekly, and told the two men how influential they were and how wonderful their books were, and to Mr. Vonnegut I praised "Breakfast Of Champions" and "Slaughterhouse Five" of course. And they thanked us kindly, though Vonnegut's eyes were lidded and his face flushed; and she and I skittered back as politely as we could, hearts pounding.
I did get the envelope that held the check that was my prize. Unfortunately, no, I was not published. They had only published the first place winner. Yes, it was a huge disappointment. However, George Plimpton and Spaulding Gray (may they rest in peace) said they loved my story, and in fact so did everyone I talked to later, especially the editor in chief of the anthology. They wished it could have been first place. Spaulding Gray's daughter was the first to tell me so, the sweetheart.
When I set up my website later on and added a Fiction section, that story, "The Driving Force," went up immediately. Testament to the fact that while I was not published, I was now a name, somehow, in a small circle of greats, or at least some of them might remember me, if not the two giants I had met in person.
(Oh, and Spaulding Gray offered to drive me home, but Mom was there and I was catatonic with OMGallthesegreatwritersmeeep)
Yesterday, Kurt Vonnegut died. The fourth literary lion I met from that day in East Hampton. May he rest well, and may he live on with Plimpton, Heller, and Gray, and may he be immortal through his work. That is all anyone ever hopes for.
Goodbye, Mr. Vonnegut.

spending time

Dinner was steak tips with fresh linguine topped with garlic alfredo sauce. Fresh pasta is the best.

Adam bought bagels, fresh lox, and cream cheese. There are capers in the fridge. I love bagels with lox.

One of my very favorite things to do is to randomly go to my husband when he is reclining on the couch watching television, and kiss him deep and hard with force, so his hands wrap around my waist (so I can feel how large his hands are and how tiny my waist is) and he sighs against my lips.
Nothing is better than spending time with the one you love.

Jupiter attacked Puff again, scratched her very badly in the same spot where he had bitten her months ago. Luckily, Adam got her in time and cleaned and sterilized the wound. We are hoping we won't need to make another trip to the vet. Jason will be confining Jupiter to his bedroom again.
The going theory is that Puff, being a much older cat, is seen by Jupiter as a threat to the territory. Jupiter has claimed the downstairs as his territory. The upstairs is neutral territory. My bedroom is Puff's territory, and now Luna's. Jupiter does not actively attack Puff in the bedroom; he will only do so when they are both in the living room. In fact, they will both hang out on my bed amicably. But once she leaves the bedroom, there is the possibility. He wants to try and get her away from his territory. He has not attacked her since that last time, though; perhaps because he has been spending so much time playing with Luna. And thankfully this time it was a scratch instead of a bite. But it is so frustrating.
How do you discipline a cat who is acting on a natural territorial instinct?

spending time

Dinner was steak tips with fresh linguine topped with garlic alfredo sauce. Fresh pasta is the best.

Adam bought bagels, fresh lox, and cream cheese. There are capers in the fridge. I love bagels with lox.

One of my very favorite things to do is to randomly go to my husband when he is reclining on the couch watching television, and kiss him deep and hard with force, so his hands wrap around my waist (so I can feel how large his hands are and how tiny my waist is) and he sighs against my lips.
Nothing is better than spending time with the one you love.

Jupiter attacked Puff again, scratched her very badly in the same spot where he had bitten her months ago. Luckily, Adam got her in time and cleaned and sterilized the wound. We are hoping we won't need to make another trip to the vet. Jason will be confining Jupiter to his bedroom again.
The going theory is that Puff, being a much older cat, is seen by Jupiter as a threat to the territory. Jupiter has claimed the downstairs as his territory. The upstairs is neutral territory. My bedroom is Puff's territory, and now Luna's. Jupiter does not actively attack Puff in the bedroom; he will only do so when they are both in the living room. In fact, they will both hang out on my bed amicably. But once she leaves the bedroom, there is the possibility. He wants to try and get her away from his territory. He has not attacked her since that last time, though; perhaps because he has been spending so much time playing with Luna. And thankfully this time it was a scratch instead of a bite. But it is so frustrating.
How do you discipline a cat who is acting on a natural territorial instinct?

spending time

Dinner was steak tips with fresh linguine topped with garlic alfredo sauce. Fresh pasta is the best.

Adam bought bagels, fresh lox, and cream cheese. There are capers in the fridge. I love bagels with lox.

One of my very favorite things to do is to randomly go to my husband when he is reclining on the couch watching television, and kiss him deep and hard with force, so his hands wrap around my waist (so I can feel how large his hands are and how tiny my waist is) and he sighs against my lips.
Nothing is better than spending time with the one you love.

Jupiter attacked Puff again, scratched her very badly in the same spot where he had bitten her months ago. Luckily, Adam got her in time and cleaned and sterilized the wound. We are hoping we won't need to make another trip to the vet. Jason will be confining Jupiter to his bedroom again.
The going theory is that Puff, being a much older cat, is seen by Jupiter as a threat to the territory. Jupiter has claimed the downstairs as his territory. The upstairs is neutral territory. My bedroom is Puff's territory, and now Luna's. Jupiter does not actively attack Puff in the bedroom; he will only do so when they are both in the living room. In fact, they will both hang out on my bed amicably. But once she leaves the bedroom, there is the possibility. He wants to try and get her away from his territory. He has not attacked her since that last time, though; perhaps because he has been spending so much time playing with Luna. And thankfully this time it was a scratch instead of a bite. But it is so frustrating.
How do you discipline a cat who is acting on a natural territorial instinct?