AfricanKelli

I’ve been working and thinking and writing a lot lately. I’m trying my damnedest to get this story out of my head, mostly because I’ve got the next novel lined up and I’m ready to go. It’s like having a 700-page book in front of you that you’ve enjoyed and want to finish, and a shiny new paperback sitting on your nightstand that you just can’t wait to start. You feel torn – do I finish this one? Or just dive into the new one and then come back to the giant when I’m good and ready?

I caught myself daydreaming this weekend about the plot of book #2. This isn’t good. There is still so much thought that needs to go into #1.

Including the details of the talking elephant.

I mentioned to a few people this weekend that I’m trying to describe a scene where a character who is animist falls deep into meditation and ends up discussing in some detail what she should do to solve one of the story’s major conflicts. She happens to have this discussion with an elephant. Both people I mentioned it to looked at me like I was from Mars.

A sticky situation I’ve found myself in lately is trying to describe what is happening in the story without making it an hour long conversation and starting from the beginning. It would be like trying to explain why 90210 got better when Brenda left because the characters were able to act without worrying why Satan was on set. This would be difficult to really understand unless I started with episode 1. (You know the one where Brenda and Brandon go to
California University for twin testing. Actually, this may be episode 2. But you get the point.)

So, it is hard to justify the talking elephant without letting both people read the entire story. At this point, I’m confident that it works.

Thankfully, that confidence is subject to change.

Cheers,

Africankelli

P.S. I wonder what he would say about this sort of writing?

I’ve just finished reading, “Life and Times of Michael K,” by J. M. Coetzee. Of course the back of the book says it is about finding your inner spirituality and blah blah blah. That isn’t what I got out of it, but I really did enjoy the author’s style and prose. Coetzee is South African and received the 2003 Nobel Prize for Literature. I hadn’t heard of him previously and have a newfound interest in reading more international authors. I still don’t know much about the civil war in South Africa going on in the background of this story, but I know more than I did a week ago when I started. I am eager to read more of Coetzee’s works.

On the flip side, I started book three in the 2005 Reading List this morning and the first 30 pages are such a let  down. I know that is judgmental for a 400+ page book. I typically give an author at least 100 pages to lure me. Rarely am I struggling to get through the first few chapters. Alas, I am going to push through to see if it gets more interesting, but I do not (so far) understand the hype of “Catch-22.” The premise is great. The writing is confusing and boring. I am now starting to question my decision to read all of these “great classic novels” which are turning out to be more like, “long books written by men focused on war and tits.”

A long flight to Bolivia will give me plenty of time to give Heller a fair shake. Once I’m in country, however, I’m moving on to greener pastures if this doesn’t work out.

Cheers,

Africankelli

Sock tan from Phoenix.

Look at these photos and tell me you can’t find the time to care about what is happening in the
Sudan.

How long are we going to remain idle? How long are we going to let this genocide continue without paying it a second’s worth of attention?

It must stop today.

I encourage you to use this link and find your senator’s email address. Please consider sending him/her this letter. Modify it to express your own views, or send it as it is. Do something. There are millions of women and children with no other advocates and we can make a difference. This will take just five minutes of your time.

_____________________________________________________________________

February 23, 2005

Dear Senator _______,

As you know, there is an immediate worldwide need for attention in the Sudan. Former Secretary of State Colin Powell visited the east African nation in September 2004 and said without a doubt, genocide is occurring. More than 1 million Sudanese have died in the last two years from this conflict.

Senator, it is our responsibility as a super power to do something to prevent the casual loss of life. We have made the mistake of ignoring African genocide in the past. More than 800,000 Rwandans were killed in 1994 before we paid attention. President Clinton has said this is the biggest mistake of his presidency.

Let’s not make this mistake again.

The United States can join our European allies in Sudan, providing peace seeking efforts and protecting those living in UN refugee camps. Even these camps are under attack. Women and children are being killed daily while we stand by.

Please Senator, take these concerns to the foreign relations committee. Take them to the floor of the Senate. Use your powerful voice to advocate change in the developing world. Sudan needs us. I need you to represent my voice.

I’ll trust that you’ll do so.

Sincerely,

________________________

If you are willing to spend 10 minutes of your time, please consider editing the above letter and also sending it President Bush: president@whitehouse.gov

If you are really ready for change, send them both this letter once a week, or even once a day. Together, we can be the impetus for positive change.

~Africankelli

“Never underestimate the ability of a small group of committed individuals to change the world. Indeed, they are the only ones who ever have.” – Margaret Mead

The roofer finally showed up this afternoon — six weeks after I hired him. Actually, it wasn’t the roofer, the man who told me he couldn’t come out to help me last week because his sister was in town. The man who has pushed me aside for other jobs week after week until I now know his cell phone by heart.

The apprentice, Matt, showed up with a ladder, hard hat and a set of Mexican Oakleeys, but alas, no roofing materials. And of course, in Shakespearean dramatic fashion, it started to rain as soon as he pulled out the ladder and climbed aboard.

Once he scattered back down and I let him in (it took me a while, but it didn’t take SIX WEEKS), we discussed my roofing issues. I’m bound and determined to purchase a digital camera this week. There will be plenty a photo posted on my site of this nonsense. (I’m foreshadowing the great drywall and repainting adventures of this summer.)

Back to the point, and the title: I wasn’t embarrassed to woo my young contractor into getting his ass back up the ladder and back to fixing my roof once the rain stopped. I also convinced him with a bit of eyelash twittering and smiling and friendliness to come back next week and plug the holes in the side of my house that are apparently causing the never ending water damage. Without telling his bosses. Without adding it to the bill. I didn’t suggest that part, he did.

Well, I’ll be. Perhaps you do attract more flies with honey.

Cheers,

Africankelli

I received my February credit card statement and there was only one charge. I stood in my parent’s kitchen, staring at the bill and searching my brain for what I could have charged for more than $100 on a Tuesday in January at a company I’d never heard of. I was sure I had paid this sucker off! What could this be? A phone call to the company, in
Nebraska, showed that I wasn’t losing my memory – I was being conned.

Consider this a warning to anyone who has a CitiBank credit card. Look at your statement closely. Hopefully, this letter to my state attorney’s office will garner some attention.

“I am writing in concern of a charge for $129.95 on my February Citibank statement. When I called the phone number listed for the charge a company called EssentialsGold — I was surprised to hear one of the automated choices on the answering service was, “Press One to contest a charge on your credit card.” I was even more surprised when one of their employees told me this was a product in conjunction with my CitiBank card. Not only have I not received information about this promotion, but I never agreed to pay for this. The Essentials Gold employee couldn’t find me in their system and wouldn’t continue the call unless I gave them my credit card number over the phone. When I refused, they told me that I should fax them my credit card statement to have the charge changed. Again, I was uncomfortable giving them this information.

I called Citibank and they promised to reverse the charge, but would not give me any information on why they had supplied the company with my personal financial information in the first place. It is unethical and bad business to charge people unwittingly for services they do not want. It is even worse that my credit card company, in a time of identity theft, is sharing my personal financial information with a third party. Whether I have to pay for the charge or not, I am concerned for the thousands of others in Arizona who will probably pay for this bill without looking closely at their statement. This is a fraudulent business practice; they are trying to cheat us. I hope you will do something about it.”

Come on, Terry. Tell them to play fair. (As if getting thousands of dollars in my interest money in the last six years wasn’t enough.) 

~AK

In celebration of President’s Day, I’ve thought about what I would say if I had the chance to meet Mr. Bush. I’m sure at the moment, I’d be overwhelmed, star struck and instantly wondering if my somewhat republican, more so democratic ways are right.  I think I’d be temporarily blinded by the fabulousness (or not) that is the tiny man in the presidential-seal emblazoned black
Texas boots.

But I am also sure I’d get over it. Quickly. Then I’d remember what makes me so angry about his governance of our nation.

1. President Bush, do you honestly think drilling in the artic and standing as one of the only (if not the only) G8 nation to stay out of the Kyoto protocol? (I love the way you don’t even address these, but instead have your henchmen on the hill do it for you.) For the love of God, half of all African nations have signed this document and we can’t? They have so much less control of the fossil fuels available for use. You are selling out to big business and my children and grandchildren will pay for it. Knock it off.

2. Pay attention to what is happening in Sudan. There are 1 million refugees waiting for your help. Europe is there, working toward peace. Where are we?

3. Don’t send Condi to do your dirty work. Don’t make her say that Iran isn’t our problem, but isn’t our friend. If that is the case, and gulp, we hope it isn’t because WE DO NOT WANT TO FIGHT IN ANOTHER MIDDLE EASTERN COUNTRY, then be the leader of the free world and tell your citizens this. Don’t make us hear it on CNN from your official bitch. (Sorry Condi, but it doesn’t seem you are going to earn your keeps unless you cut the puppet strings and find your own voice. We can see Dick Cheney and little “W” standing behind the Wizard’s curtain and it is disturbing.)

4. Stop pushing your constitutional amendment banning same sex marriages. We don’t want the government in our bedrooms. Trust me. And perhaps you should consider lightening up and making your bedroom more fun. Laura looks bored.

5. Stop fucking around with my reproductive rights. Don’t even joke about it, or I will march on the mall. And I will bring millions of friends. And we’ll plan it so we’re all on our cycles at the same time, so were an extra pain in your ass.

6. Consider renaming Donald Rumsfeld’s position, Secretary of Offense. And while you’re at it, feel free to call Condi Pinocchio.

 7. Congrats on getting your daughters through college with only minor arrests. Bravo. They actually looked really nice at your inaugural. I’ve got my fingers crossed that their life in the public eye doesn’t ruin them. JFK Jr. was successful. I’ve got high hopes for the twins.

Hope you had a wonderful day in Europe, Sir. Give me a call if you want to chat.

Cheers,

Africankelli

A funny story to end our work week with… [Disclaimer: Mom, if you read this, I am not making fun of you. I am exercising comedic prose and am not trying to be offensive.]

For about 15 years of my childhood, (yes, it was extended) my family would take a weekly  annual trip to
Carlsbad, California to get out of the insane August heat and humidity in Phoenix. Really, if you’ve ever lived in Arizona, you know the brutal “ouch, I just got a third degree burn from my seatbelt” kind of heat. Heat that makes planes unable to land at our airport because the TIRES MELT ON THE TARMAC. Heat that is only bearable because of the rumored monsoon season that is supposed to roll in from the east and blanket the desert floor with a much needed shower. The monsoons did occur regularly until I was about 16. Now they come sporadically. If I haven’t already expressed my utter displeasure with our polluting policies and the fact that we did not sign the Kyoto Protocol, consider it done.

We would load up the white Previa with our suitcases, cooler full of snacks and dusty boogie boards and get on to the highway between 3 and 3:15 am, per my father’s regulations. On this 6 hour drive, passengers are regularly told to “Hold it, we just left.” “Hold it, we’re almost there.” and “Cody, I didn’t literally mean ‘Hold it!’” The last time we took this trip as a family, in 2000, I was just days from leaving for the Peace Corps. There were mountains of icky stuff going on in my personal life and a trip to the beach with my family sounded like heaven. We played a family car game on the way there, trying to guess the meanings of the street signs in Spanish along the I10 highway. I would propose the question and then my parents and brother would search their brains for bits of Latin roots to find the answer. You’d think living in a Hispanic state these sorts of things would come naturally.

You’d think wrong.

Just on the other side of the Arizona/California border, just outside of lovely Yuma, is a street sign labeled “Algodones.” As we passed the giant green sign, my mom who was sitting in the front seat, nearly broke her neck in excitement.

“Oh God! I know that one!” she yelped, craning her body toward mine.

“Really?”

“MEATBALLS! OOOH, MEATBALLS!” she screamed, beaming with pride.

“Meatballs?” I asked, trying to figure out how she had come to this oh so wrong conclusion. “Um, no mom, it means cotton.”

“Huh? Don’t they have algodones soup at Rosita’s?”

I gulped back my laughter until I burst. Tears rolled down my face and my brother and dad became infected with hysterical giggling. We couldn’t stop laughing for miles, which was even funnier to me because I knew my dad and brother had no idea what I was laughing about. Finally I managed to squeak out, “That’s albondigas, not algodones.”

We proceeded to call her “OOOHHH Meatball!!” for the rest of the trip. She hated it, but can finally laugh about it now. It is one of my happiest and most delirious childhood moments.

Have a wonderful weekend,

Africankelli

In about 1 hour, Rob will tee off at the LA Open. Last year he tried to Monday qualify in the event, while I wandered around Beverly Hills with my friend Kristi. It was the day I discovered this store — where I now focus most of my bad spending habits. The crafts, the ideas, the sheer brillance of being able to create your own envelopes…

He didn’t end up qualifying for the LA Open and we later said how fun it would be when he was on tour and would get to play the course. Time flies.

I know this has been a stressful month for you F.G., but your many followers and I believe in you. Think of how relaxed and joyous you were here when stepping up to the first tee. Then smoke it down the middle.

Love always,

Africankelli

A little past
midnight, I rolled over with an acidic stomach and glared at my alarm clock. I knew I wasn’t falling asleep again any time soon. The only thing comforting was the thought of falling back asleep by the glow of the television. I’ve always fallen asleep this way, except for those brief times when I lived without electricity.

After I’d try to console my insomnia with incessant prayer, I asked for a sign if I needed to remain patient. It’s been a tough week and I’m not exactly known for my patience. After the Lord’s Prayer and the Catholic cross that I can’t seem to get rid of after having it beaten into my head by my Mexican home-stay family… big breath, run on sentence… I flipped on the TV. There she was, Ms. Oprah herself. Who knew they replayed her show in Phoenix in the middle of the night?

Her guest was Dana Reeves, Christopher’s widow. She was so strong and loving and continues to cherish her husband, who was in a wheelchair for the last 11 years of their marriage. Viola–sign for patience. I couldn’t get a bigger smack on the head. Listening to her describe her love and admiration for her husband was heartbreaking. She really misses him, even though he was barely able to breathe and required care every second of the day. He wasn’t a burden — he was her world.

For the love of God, if that woman can get through 11 years and come out with a positive attitude, I can get through a rough week. God provided a much needed wake-up call and shook me from my self-centered bubble.

I’m getting better and it feels good. Thanks Dana.

Cheers,

Africankelli