The Little Words Mean the Most

Greetings from Lincoln, NE

Back in December, Marj McKinty emailed me, inviting me to speak at Lincoln, NE's 2008 "brand camp" for nonprofits. Her opening comment: "We're seeking Scheherazade." Who could resist? On my journey, I watched Ted Danson drink coffee in the Detroit airport. Marj met me at the Lincoln airport with fresh miniature daffodils. I speak today at noon, using Scheherazade as the frame tale for my stink bomb about donor communications ("Mostly bad. Mostly very bad."). Lincoln is a college town with a buzzing arts and dining district around the old train station. One landmark, shown in this photo: a remarkably-crafted bas relief mural, of just brick. Dinner recommendation: Lazlo's extra-friendly brewery (delicious oatmeal stout) and restaurant. UPDATE: Heading out, Marj took me by the state house, where her friend Ron gave us an insider's tour of the murals, the carvings, the last moments of Art Deco. The state house was finished debt-free during the Great Depression. Nebraska's constitution still requires a balanced budget; and this year's session obliged. Back in RI, my state of residence, different story: government fiddles while a $380 million deficit burns.

Chatham Brewing

One advantage: writing a magazine food column for years: people jump in with both alligators when you say you enjoy delightful regional eats and drinks. Dragged me (smiling) thru four Memphis BBQ joints in 24 hours two years ago. Case at this point: Chatham Brewing, Chatham, NY. I showed interest. Hilary Dunne Ferrone, the wife of co-founder Mister Hilary Dunne Ferrone, brought me a "growler" of their prize-winning porter. A growler is a large bottle filled from the tap. I had an iced-down cooler in my car's trunk ("boot," English folk). For two days I rambled the buttocks of western New England, presenting workshops, while that growler floated in a melting ice storm. Today, Saturday, I drank, doing yard work in humid, unseasonal heat. GORGEOUS! A chocolate bar in every sip. And easy on the productivity. You could drink this all afternoon and still make progress.

When Deadlines Loom

My desk. I have two alarm signs. They originally dangled from chains in a factory or fire house; picked up at Ipso Facto, an antiques store in she-she farm town, Three Oaks, MI. An alarm sign dropped on a pile of reference matter means the project MUST BE WRITTEN TODAY!

Demo-ing Aztec Dance, '08 AFP Int'l Conf., SDCA

Female Laramoop

I Love My Clients

Because they send me notes like this.

Happy Trails

Places outside Rhode Island where I ran/will run workshops in 2008: Calgary, AB; Anchorage, AK; Birmingham, AL; Tucson, AZ (twice); San Diego, CA; Danbury, CT; Hartford, CT; Boulder, CO; Orlando, FL; Boston, MA; Lenox, MA; Winnipeg, MB; Lincoln, NE; Norman, OK; Norfolk, VA. To date. Today the insects awake inside my office: the unofficial start of spring. The three major models: flies, western conifer beetles (big and stinking), and hornets (poor reputation for anger management).

San Diego Int'l AFP Conference

Audits: My Goal for Clients

No discouraging words. No disparaging words. A painful pleasure to read.

Joan's 75th

Last night Simone and I attended Joan's 75th birthday. Ordinary? Not really. Joan circles the globe every couple of years it seems. One daughter has homes in Manhattan and Paris. Another daughter does UN work in Africa. Another daughter, I don't recall what she does but it's important. One son-in-law is an international journalist whose feature stories appear in the New Yorker, the Washington Post, that ilk. The other son-in-law has a technology firm and told a truly amusing-slash-scary tale of being stranded in Samara (Russia) when his jet's reverse thruster failed. Worst case: his bribes-wrangler was nowhere to be found, and Jim had $20,000 US secreted in his underwear. Last year, this happened? At our table: the librarian who took a post-retirement post setting up Dubai's university library system. Interesting place, Dubai: you never meet a native (there are only 200,000); it's all ex-pat and more modern than Disney World. The room was full of people who knew Dubai. Understand, we were seated in the University Club, in Providence, RI. The club is a former bastion of male Anglo privilege. Within recent memory, wimmen were not allowed thru the front door. History now. Most of Joan's friends, seems, are named Susan, oddly enough. I traded cedar waxwing sightings with the former ambassador to Nigeria, our friend, Bill and his artist wife, Susan (there's that name again); Susan's awfully good, but has given up the gallery rat race. That morning trimming brush out by the 250-million-year old gabbro extrusion behind our house I heard determined rustling. Looked up. A rumptious flock of cedar waxwings -- crest, black eye stripe, safety yellow band across their tails -- ripped the blue berries from a 15-foot cedar. Bill says they're migrating. And, while he has the state rock, Cumberlandite, an unusually heavy, slightly magnetic mineral, on his land; he's baldly jealous of my gabbro -- "rotten rock" so-called because you can crumble it between your fingers -- which I use to fill ruts in my driveway.