Ace Pokies Free Bonus Codes: If you enjoy playing with larger stakes, you should look to see whether theres a VIP program for high-rollers, so you arent getting the same program as those who don't bet nearly as much as you.
I’m sharing this fantastic KQED Perspectives by my good friend and fellow Write On Mama, Dorothy O’Donnell. When a hiking group told Dorothy she was “too old” to join their ranks, Dorothy — characteristically — didn’t take the news sitting down. She did what all good writers do: used her voice and pen to fight back.
Her last line resonates: “You can call me old. But please — don’t tell me what I’m too old to do.”
Just in case you were thinking of buying my novel, Mother Mother, but haven’t gotten around to it yet: I was checking my listing on Amazon (as one does ) and noticed a huge price drop on the paperback, to $7.93. Now whether this is a good sign or a bad one, I don’t know, but since I myself can’t resist a bargain, I’m passing along the info. Buy one for a friend? Mother’s Day is around the corner.
Hope you can join me via Zoom this Thursday, April 15 at 1 pm Pacific time.
I’ll be part of a virtual panel at the San Anselmo library with 2 of my good friends and fellow Write On Mamas, as we discuss publishing in a pandemic, why we write, and all things book. You must register with an email to attend; details below. Would be wonderful to see you!
Driving to Antigua from the airport, our cab driver told Olivia and me that the most spectacular Semana Santa carpets could be seen on a street on Antigua’s north end called Calle Ancha. The earlier we arrived on Good Friday morning, he said, the better: teams of artists would have started construction midnight on Holy Thursday. Five AM was the hour he recommended because the procession started at La Merced Church at 5 and would arrive on Calle Ancha by 7. To see the rugs intact, we needed to get there on time. As I explained in an earlier blog post, an essential element of constructing the carpets—for the artist and viewer—is watching them be destroyed by the feet of hundreds of pilgrims walking over them as they carry the procession platforms.
Olivia and I were staying in a hotel where, coincidentally, a group of adoptive families from the U.S. were also booked. Another mom and I slipped out of our rooms as our daughters slept and headed north by 5:30. After a few false turns and a run back to my room for my camera–which in my pre-coffee haze I had forgotten–we found Calle Ancha. Magnificent. Unforgettable. Worth every effort.
What I hadn’t expected was the tone of the day, and every day during Semana Santa, really. “Reverent, solemn, prayerful” are the most accurate descriptors. “Awe-inspiring, painterly, unexpected” are a close second. And the music. Dirge-like drums and mournful trumpets playing Chopin’s classic “Funeral March.” So moody and emotional.
In the United States, Easter Sunday–celebrating the resurrection of Christ–is considered the most sacred day of Holy Week. It’s different in Guatemala. In Guatemala, Good Friday—Christ’s crucifixion, suffering, and death–is most devoutly observed. A friend of mine who is a Catholic nun in-country describes Guatemalans as “Good Friday Catholics” and Catholics in the U.S. as “Easter Sunday Catholics.” Having witnessed my first Semana Santa, I understand.
As you probably know, in the Christian calendar, Lent consists of the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter, with the final days known as Holy Week–Semana Santa in Spanish. And few place in the world celebrate Semana Santa in as spectacular a fashion as Guatemala. Tens of thousands of people from across Guatemala and the world flock to Antigua and the capital, Guatemala City, to watch the creation of sawdust carpets (more on that below) and, later, religious processions.
One year, Mateo and I were in Antigua on Ash Wednesday, and I vowed we’d return someday for Semana Santa. In 2013, Olivia and I did exactly that–Mateo’s school schedule prevented him from joining us–and the experience was beyond anything I expected: gorgeous, moving, profound. This year, like last, Semana Santa celebrations were cancelled due to Covid. But here’s a blog post I wrote in 2013, with photos that show the process of building the sawdust carpets. In a second post, I’ll share pix of the carpets themselves.
from 2013:
During Semana Santa in Antigua, Guatemala, groups of people–related by family, friendship, faith, association in a brother- or sisterhood, or by other ties I probably don’t know about–band together to construct elaborate “alfombras” or carpets, often referred to as “sawdust rugs.” The rugs are constructed in the street, over the cobblestones, or inside churches.
Although most commonly made from sawdust that is saturated with color and then dried, the alfombras can be made from anything: fruit, vegetables, pine needles—I even saw a Noah’s Ark filled with plastic figurines. The process takes hours, and many, many hands. Ironically, the alfombras are made to be destroyed—-at some point in the day or night a large religious procession will pass by and walk over it—a symbol of the evanescence of life and the vanity of believing anything is permanent.
The honor is in the tradition, the building, the creative satisfaction, and, in this deeply faithful country, the offering of one’s efforts for the glory of God.
) and noticed a huge price drop on the paperback, to $7.93. Now whether this is a good sign or a bad one, I don’t know, but since I myself can’t resist a bargain, I’m passing along the info. Buy one for a friend? Mother’s Day is around the corner.
