A Peck of Gold

Memology 101

Memes occasionally come in handy for lazy bloggers like myself. So without further ado, I give you, 27 Questions.

1. Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog? Oh absolutely. Flip-flops are hot, right?

2. Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered? No. They are the real deal. Even that one of me with the Queen of England. Seriously, she invites me to Windsor Castle every summer. We go way back.

3. Do you like it when creeps or dorks email you? Hey- those are my friends you’re talking about! No, I’m kidding. I mostly laugh at that kind of thing. Well, it’s a nervous laugh, but still.

4. Do you lie in your blog? I do not. I only lie in person, face to face. Kidding. But if I wasn't- you wouldn't know, because I would be lying. Ah, circular reasoning- gotta love it.

5. Are you passive-aggressive in your blog? Not any more than anybody else. At least I can be honest about it, unlike some people... mumble mumble...

6. Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop? Oh, that’s so nauseating! No, I DON’T do that. But I might now that it’s occurred to me.

7. Are you in therapy? If not, should you be? If so, is it helping? I’m not in therapy. And you don’t have to look so surprised.

8. Do you delete mean comments? Do you fake nice ones? I delete spam. I also deleted one REALLY bad comment because it had a link to the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. [shudder] But, I don’t delete comments because people disagree with me or hurt my feelings. I have NEVER faked a good comment before—that’s so wrong!

9. If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less? More. I have a strong physical magnetism. (well, what else could I say, less?)

10. Do you have a job? I do. Aren’t you proud?

12. If someone offered you a decent salary to blog full-time without restrictions, would you do it? Yup. As a matter of fact, I’m considering paying MYSELF to do it.

13. Which blogger do you want to meet in real life? Bob.

14. Which bloggers have you made out with? Wil Wheaton. Seriously, Wil, you never called! What’s up with that? (Disclaimer: This is pre-Patrick, of course.)

15. Do you usually act like you have more money or less money than you really have? I act like I have less. I’m really fantastically rich. I’m typing on a solid gold keyboard even as we speak.

16. Does your family read your blog? Obsessively. Since I don’t live at home, they can’t read my journals anymore, so this is the next best thing. I’m kidddding, y’all. (Well, not for all of you- you know who you are! Joey!)

17. How old is your blog? One year—isn’t she a big girl now?

18. Do you get more than 1,000 page views per day? Do you care? HAHAHAHA- I do NOT get that many page views. I cared at first though, to be honest. I think all new bloggers go through that phase- trying to build up readership. Then you start freaking out if people aren’t reading, like maybe you’ve lost your “edge” and that you are never going to amount to anything in this world. Hm—or maybe that was just me.

19. Do you have another secret blog in which you write about being depressed, immoral, or a liar? I’m really Isa. Seriously. Don’t tell my dad where I am, okay?

20. Have you ever given another blogger money for his/her writing? Why does that sound so naughty? Anyway, no. It’s all I can do to fund my OWN blogging.

21. Do you report the money you earn from your blog on your taxes? You can earn money with these things? Why wasn’t I told?

22. Is blogging narcissistic? Oh remember the stir that comment caused a while back? It can be, but everything has the potential to be narcissistic. Depends on the person.

23. Do you feel guilty when you don't post for a long time? I do. I feel guilty about MOST things. (even that last statement--- I’m so sorry!! Forgive me!!)

24. Do you like John Mayer? Who- the singer? How is this question relevant in any way? Is that you, J.M.? Did you sneak this question in?

25. Do you have enemies? No. I vanquish all my enemies. Oh, alright, that’s not true. I don’t have enemies—I’m not that contrary. Make love not war, she says sheepishly.

26. Are you lonely? Yikes- get personal, will ya? Is that you again, John Mayer? You're kinda creeping me out.

27. Why bother? Hm. I want to do what all the cool kids are doing, I guess. Oh, I can give a better answer. I blog because it's fun! I have a place to say what I think, what I like, what I don't like, what makes me laugh or cry. It organizes my thoughts, and that's never a bad thing.

Okay- there you have it. Fascinating, wasn't it?

Shannon out.

A Peck of Pop Culture

I made this with Typogenerator, a nifty little tool snatched from The Presurfer. It's a good time killer. I mean, if you're into that sort of thing. Which I am. Die, Time!

Mississippi Yearnin'

If you spend much time at APOG, you know that I have an abiding love for Louisiana. You'd think I was even born there. But, you'd be wrong. (Fancy that, huh?) I sprang forth from the rich soil of Mississippi, where magnolias and manners abound! I have been feeling a bit disloyal to the Hospitality State lately with all my ramblings about LA, so I thought I'd post some of the reasons I love Mississippi, too. Ah, you’re surprised at this, right? You’ve only heard bad things about Mississippi? I’m not surprised. It’s easy to focus on the poverty and the social problems that have troubled the state for many years. But, it is a great tragedy to overlook the quiet dignity and beauty that graces this land. Mississippi has a gentle, sensual manner that soothes her social and economic wounds, if you will only look.

One of my favorite sights as I drive the country roads of Mississippi is the garden. Long rows of produce grace the hillsides beside homes, carefully tended in the cool of the day. They yield ripe vegetables that fill bellies all year round, still canned and put up like the old days, filling the pantry, and shared with neighbors. A perfume of southern aromas rises from heavy laden tables—fried chicken, steaming roasted potatoes, hot-buttered corn bread, field peas, slices of ripened tomatoes and cucumbers, warm pecan pies and cool lemon meringues, and sweet tea to wash it all down. These cherished recipes are family heirlooms, shared with each generation, their value immeasurable. The food is the heart of the Southern gathering, but the true joys are found when the plates have been cleared away. The dominos come out and stories from the old folks are told or retold. Family stories and lore are planted tenderly in young minds. Eventually, everyone migrates outside, retreating to porch swings and rocking chairs. A game of horseshoes or volleyball starts up in the shade, and the children play in home-made forts and castles. When everyone is sufficiently recovered from the big meal, a juicy watermelon appears and the slices deliciously drip and disappear amidst smiling faces.

Kinships are strengthened and renewed in the simple act of sharing a meal, but it’s sharing the time that really matters.

The state moves slowly from season to season, gliding across the year in all her finery. Rolling hills draped in lush climbing kudzu, the sound of crickets on hot summer nights, the scent of honeysuckle wafting on the breeze; these are the shared memories of all Mississippians. Our childhoods were painted with the reds of magnolia seeds, the greens of clover and mimosa leaves, the silver of minnows in creeks, the purple of blackberries, the pink of azaleas. Our minds are filled with the deltas, bluffs, riverbeds, hills, marshes, and beaches- the places our parents grew up, the places we grew up, the places our children grow up—all rich with history and stories. Our history. Our stories.

Mississippi is strong because her people are strong. That strength comes from our connections with each other, and inevitably with the land. The roots put down with our families sink deep into Mississippi soil. They are not so easily transplanted.

--Louisiana may be in my blood, but Mississippi will always be in my heart--

As My 19 Year Old Sister Says, "Buy-bye"

I'm off to Monroe for a few days, everybody. Please talk amongst yourselves.

A Needy Superhero

I am the only one in the country, besides Patrick and Lorne Micheals, who still watches SNL. It's not that I have a rabid loyalty to the show, but it's the only thing on at 10:30 on a Saturday night. So, I watch.

Anyway, while watching Spiderman 2, I thought of a funny skit for them to do. Every time Spidy hears sirens, he swings off to save the day. But, what if he gets there, and the cops have it well under control?

Police officer: Um, hi Spiderman.
Spiderman: I heard the sirens! What's the emergency?
PO: Well, looks like this traffic light is out. I'm just directing the cars.
SM: Okay, I'll spin a web from the top there and-
PO: That's really not necessary, sir.
SM: Yeah, but somebody might-
PO: Really Spiderman, I've got it under control.
SM: Really?
PO: Yes.
SM: Well then. If you're sure. I mean, I could stand on the other-
PO: Honestly, it's fine.
SM: Alrightie then. Guess I'll just be going.... you're SURE about this?
PO: Spiderman, seriously dude. It's COOL.
SM: I'm just a swing away if you need me though- you know that, right?
PO: Yeah, yeah, we know.
SM: Okay, so I'll be seeing ya then... [reluctantly swings off]

PO: Sheesh. That guy has issues.

My spidy sense tells me that could be a very funny skit.

Having The Fun

The Short Ones are vacationing this week- honestly, they get way more r&r; than dear old mom! I wanna go to the beach! Who's gonna take ME? Anyway, I whine. I will stop.

This week they are funning it up at a belated graduation party for my cousin, then some country living at the in-laws, then to the beach with my parents. Patrick and I will be working extra hours to pay for a much needed weekend getaway brand new transmission!! Whoohoo! Life rocks!!

We do actually get to spend some time together tomorrow, and we plan to start the day by blacking out the windows and sleeping until high noon. Yeah, you heard it. Sleep, baby. The stuff gold is made of.

Then, we're going to sneak in the side door of Spiderman2, which I am extremely excited about. I love a good sneak. No, I'm kidding. I hate it. But Patrick still makes me do it. Ah, she ees so funny! (french accent required for full effect).

Then, if we're REALLY feeling un-frugal, we're going to eat something spicy, fried, thoroughly fattening, and recently swimming in a local body of water. Maybe we'll head to our favorite spot, Poor Boy Lloyds, where we can sit outside and look up at the stars and into each others eyes, and wonder what our kids are doing.

Ha! Shannon is funny.

Now, I am off to have the fun. Have a good weekend, folks.

Bem-vindo a Brasil

Let's just say, hypothetically, that you wanted to move to Brazil for about nine months. How in the blue blazes do you start planning something like that? Next Fall, Patrick will have to intern somewhere in the great wide world, and we're thinking of taking advantage of the opportunity to go abroad. (see- I knew those smelling salts would come in handy. Here, Mom.)

Anywhoo- LSU will help us work out the details, but I'm impatient and want to know JUST what goes into a move like this. Does anybody out there have experience with this type of situation? Does anyone also have a million and a half dollars they want to contribute to this Most Important Academic Pursuit?

Mom- seriously, are you okay? You don't look so good. Sit down for a few minutes.

Oh alright- you can come, too.

Oh Yes- This Is Really Important

(Can you get sued for misleading titles??)

You know what bugs me? Webpages that won't allow you to use the "back" button. It's a little trick to keep you stuck on their site, and it's rather rude in my book. Bad manners. Don't do it.

But what I do like? String cheese, and the word "cacophony".

Alrightie then... I'll be posting later and I'll try to come up with something a tad more substantial. Maybe I'll wow you with my theory on shark attacks. (believe you me, you don't want to miss that one.)

Run Away With My Heart (file under maternal)

I love to watch Eli run. He throws his shoulders back and leans forward into an aerodynamic position, arms out behind him. His chubby legs work hard as he stomps after a rolling ball. He is laughing and big-eyed, and enjoying the run. When stubby fingers finally wrap around his prize, he whirls around holding it out to me, and runs right back.

As I watch him, I freeze the image in my mind, holding onto it as long as I can. I know one day he'll grow out of his baby legs and his run will become longer and faster. He'll stop chasing after balls, and he'll begin chasing other goals. His stride will take him many places, and eventually, it will take him right into manhood. One day, he won't turn around and come back, and that will be okay. It will be hard, but some paths are meant to take you away. We are gifted with borrowed time, and all parents know this.

But for now, those little legs still bring him back to mama, and I am so very happy to be the one that scoops him up at the end of his run. I am blessed beyond reason, beyond what I deserve.

Thank God for that.

The More You Know (the more it helps me)

Hey MT wizards, how do you put in links to catergories? I have been catergorizing my posts but I don't know how to display that. I was thinking of having something in the side bar, I dunno. Give me your wisdom, ye elders of MT.

Say Cheese

I need a digital camera. Why? Well, um... it would really er... the advantages of the... okay, I'm just lazy. I'm tired of taking, then developing, waiting, then scanning pictures for my site. (it doesn't help that my camera AND scanner both hate me and refuse to play nice.)

So.

Now you know.

Movie Confession: This Could Get Ugly

Okay... here's a list of movies I loved and will still happily watch into the wee hours of the morning if they come on in reruns. Or re-funs as I like to call them. (See- there's a perk to being an Advanced Geek. You can say stuff like that and people just roll their eyes.)

The Goonies (pirates? baby ruth? kissing with braces? it had it all)
The Dark Crystal (Jim Hensen went kind of nuts with that one)
She's Out of Control (my dad actually forbid us to keep watching this one. 3 daughters will do that to ya.)
Parent-Trap (with Haley whatshername - she's worth two Olsen twins anyday)
Adventures in Babysitting (I Love Thor)
The Cutting Edge (D.B. Sweeney... dreamy)
Robin Hood (YES I KNOW ABOUT THE ACCENT!!)
Girls Just Want To Have Fun (I wore the tape out. Literally)
Manican I and II (oh, how great is my shame)
Superman(s) and Supergirl (no surprise there, right?)
Conan the Barbarian (blame my father)
Spacecamp (and)
Spaceballs (...while we're at it.)
Pollyanna (see the Haley theme?)
Gremlins (though I'm still grossed out by the "popping" reproduction thing)
ALL the Karate Kids (well, except the one with the girl. That one was just dumb.)
And I can't leave out The Teenwolf movies. Brilliant.

Ahh... that does feel better.

If you're man enough, go ahead. Post your movie shame. I double dog dare you.

It Was Funny At The Time

Over the years, Patrick and I have compiled a list of names for different things, should we ever have the opportunity to use/own them. (hey, it's good to be prepared). Anyway, here are a few for your enjoyment. --Don't steal em, you hooligans.--

Boat: Fat Floats
Plantation: Vanilla Strip
Cemetery: Silent Pines
Subdivision: Fancy Schmancy
Irish Pub: Shannonigans
White Water Rapids: The Devil's Butthole

Wanna see the practical application? Well, if you insist.

Dear Diary,
Today after a long day of work at Vanilla Strip, we stopped by Shannonigans for a few drinks. (You know that place-- it's close to our old neighborhood, 354 Fancy Schmancy Drive). Anyway, I guess we had one too many, and somebody eventually suggested taking Fat Floats down the river for a daring trip down The Devil's Butthole. We nearly didn't make it out alive, and those plots down at Silent Pines would have been filled much sooner than we'd thought. Luckily, Fat Floats lived up to her name, Shannonigans refuses to service us anymore, and there's plenty of work at Vanilla Strip to keep us occupied. No more rowdiness for a while, I promise.
Shannon

See- that's unbelievably stupid fun!!

So, do you have any to add??

Egads! I've lost my date book!!

This is reallllly bad.

Every important date is recorded there, and of course, that's the only place I kept it all, being the genius that I am. So, family and friends, please post your birthdays/anniversaries here for me so I can start over. Sigh.

In the meantime, if I've forgotten your birthday in the last few weeks, now you know why. I lose things. It's a genetic problem, I think.

Anyway, happy belated birthday. Here's a cupcake.

Chattabye

Josiah the Ever Expanding is creating a blogsite just for Louisiana bloggers. We'll have the choice of monroeblogs or nolablogs. This is a REALLY good opportunity for my gang out there who've been talking about blogging (or I would just like to see doing it) to get on the bandwagon! I'll name some names. Rachel. Rhonda. Joey. Amy. Hey, even you Shelby! All you have to do is shoot Josiah an email, or leave a comment on his blog, and he'll get you hooked up. It's nothing to be intimidated by on a technical level, because blogging is easy, and there are lots of people (including yours truly) who are ready to help ya.

Anyway, as things get up and running, I'll keep you updated on any changes.

Pickup Lines: What Have You Got To Lose But A Little Dignity?

My Fave: Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?

Oh, you casanova, you.

More gems here.

'Identify the Movie Quote' says the lazy blogger

"Why a spoon, cousin? Why not an axe?"

"Because it's dull, you twit, it'll hurt more"

Today's Headline: "Things Get Swanky at APOG with Guest Celebrity"

Go on... you know you want to take it, too.

Which Annoying B-list Celebrity Are You?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey.

The Simple Things

From the Gypsy, whose words are nearly as perfect as her pictures.

"I can see my littlest sisters from the porch far off along the dirt road picking blackberries as if they were gold, their bikes laying in the road where they dropped them and their laughter and conversation drifting back to me in the blue dusk. Soon they are running back across the freshly cut pastures, blackberries held like secret treasures in their shirts. I watch as the juice soaks in, spreading like a purple sea and then up at their faces – shining, oblivious to the stains and asking, “You want one? Try one, just one…they’re so good.” They surround me and the longing for them is that ache that belongs only to three blonde fairies living in the woods where there on no street lights and the fireflies illuminate the sweet, pure darkness."

When I'm bored,

I track my stats. (yeah, there's that geek thing again.) Anyway...

For the person who found my website under the query, "do chickens eat trees?", the answer is no. I'm sorry, they eat almost everything else, but not trees. Are you having a problem with your trees being eaten? Maybe it's giraffes. Or dinosaurs. Either way, you probably should move - it doesn't sound safe.

And for the person who found me with this search, "that's so cool, he's just like, come on in and eat my imagination!", I'm intrigued. I don't know what that could mean, but it's weirdly interesting.

Okay. Back to work.

Meow-ch!

I have no desire to see Catwoman. Not. Even. A little. That's saying a lot about how bad I think it will truly be, because anyone that knows me can tell you I'm a strong proponant of somewhat corny female heroines. Zena, Wonderwoman, Buffy-- and that's just the beginning of a rather long, and slightly emberassing list. My standards are pretty low, I'll admit, but even I can't buy Halle Berry as Catwoman.

Sorry, Ms. Berry, but you're no Michelle Pfieffer.

As a side note, I finally got around to seeing Underworld, and it rocked! Now, that's how it's done, IMO.

In The Dark

I was thinking last night, well, praying really- about the multitude of sins I have heaped up in my life, and I was feeling defeated. After a while, I tend to believe that God must get exasperated with me. I can't seem to stop sinning, and surely He must get tired of forgiving me. How do I know that one day He isn't going to say, "Okay Shannon, you've pushed Me just a little too far. You've used up your Get Out Of Hell Free passes. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

But then I remembered. He promised.

And waves of absolution washed over me. I was shocked by the physical sensation of that reminder, by the freshness of mercy that soothed me. Undeserved, unending, and overwhelming, Thanks be to God...

Psalm 130 A song of ascents.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD ;
O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.

If you, O LORD , kept a record of sins,
Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.

I wait for the LORD , my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.

O Israel, put your hope in the LORD ,
for with the LORD is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption.
He himself will redeem Israel
from all their sins.

**Our pastor spoke on this psalm, pointing out how the watchmen waits for the dawn-- not wondering or hoping that it will come... but knowing, with certainty that the sun will rise. How much more can we depend on God's promise of love and redemption?**

You're From Louisiana If...

1. You've ever worn shorts at Christmas time.

2. You pronounce Lafayette as "Laffy-ette" not "La-fy-ette"

3. You learned to drive a boat before you could drive a car

4. You know the meaning of a "Delcambre Reeboks" (that would be a pair of all white fishing boots)

5. You offer somebody a "coke" and then ask them what kind: Coca-Cola, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, 7Up?

6. You can name all of your 3rd cousins

7. You plan your wedding around hunting season & LSU football

8. You greet people with "Ha's ya momma'an'dem?" and hear back "Dey fine!"

9. Every so often, you have waterfront property.

10. When giving directions you use words like "uptown", "downtown","backatown", riverside", "lakeside! ", "northshore", "westbank", "down the bayou" or "cross the river"

11. When you refer to a geographical location "way up North," you are referring to places like Shreveport, Little Rock or Memphis, "where it gets real cold!"

12. Your burial plot is six feet over rather than six feet under.

13. You've ever had Community Coffee.

14. You can pronounce Tchoupitoulas but can't spell it.
(also, Thibodaux, Opelousas, Pontchartrain, Ouachita, Atchafalaya)

15. You don't worry when you see ships riding higher in the river than the top of your house.

16. You judge a po-boy by the number of napkins used. (Amen) You Got dat rite

17. The waitress at your local sandwich shop tells you a fried oyster po-boy dressed is healthier than a Caesar salad.

18. You know the definition of "dressed."

19. You can eat Popeye's, Haydel's and Zapp's for lunch and wash it down with Barq's and several Abitas, without losing it all on your stoop.

20. The smell of a crawfish boil turns you on more than HBO.

21. You "wrench" your hands in the sink with an onion bar to get the crawfish smell off.

22. You're not afraid when someone wants to "ax you something."

23. You go by "ya-mom-en-'dems" on Good Friday for family supper.

24. You don't learn until high school that Mardi Gras is not a national holiday.

25. You don't realize until high school what a "county" is.

26. You believe that purple, green and gold look good together (and you will even eat things those colors).

27. You go to buy a new winter coat (what most people refer to as windbreakers)

28. Your last name isn't pronounced the way it's spelled.

29. You know what a nutria rat is but you still pick it to represent your baseball team. (Geaux Zephyrs)

30. You have a ditch on at least one side of your property

31. You have spent a summer afternoon on the Lake Pontchartrain seawall catching blue crabs.

32. You describe a color as "K&B; Purple."

33. You like your women, rice and politics dirty.

34. When given the choice for Governor between a KKK leader and Edwin Edwards, it's a difficult decision.

35. You pronounce the largest city in the state as "Newawlins."

36. You know those big roaches can fly, but you're able to sleep at night anyway.

37. You prefer skiing on the bayou.

38. You assume everyone has mosquito swarms in their backyard.

39. You realize the rain forest is less humid than Louisiana.

40. You can list all the ingredients of a gumbo or a jambalaya.

41. You go to the "boat", but you don't plan on spending any time over water.

42. When you're in Baton Rouge you know the difference between the old bridge & the new bridge.

43. If you ever had to wait for the bridge to "come down" so you can get home.

44. If you pull for the Saints (who else would)?

45. If you've ever been to a wedding and someone either danced in a #3 washtub or with a broom and this was considered normal.

46. You make your groceries,or, wash your dishes,or, have an icebox.

47. You can't think of anybody that can cook better than your momma.

48. You know when it's appropriate to use "Tony Chachere's" (anytime!!!!)

49. You know an old person that can "treat" you for warts.

50. The four seasons in your year are: crawfish, shrimp, crab and King Cake.

Collective Groan

What do you call a pig that does karate?

May corniness rule forever.

Howling at the Moon

I'm wrestling with my writing right now. I'm caught in a battle of wills, frustrated with a story that won't "go". It chooses instead to stubbornly dig it's heels into the ground, resisting all manner of prodding and nudging and outright shoving. I'm not sure why I even bother at times, except that it's like an itch that I can't quite scratch. No, it's more irritating than that, at least at the moment, she says unkindly. It's the twitch in the corner of my eye that gives me no peace.

Writing is... a compulsion. That much I've accepted, even embraced, and rejoiced over, despite my current complaints. But, having decided it's something not likely to change about me, I'd at least like to do it (somewhat) successfully. I'm willing to put some muscle behind it, I really am, but I'm not sure how.

My conclusion is that I am in desperate need of a teacher. Someone to take the Big Red Pen and make those critical marks on my paper, someone to indifferently slash away the fat of my words and ideas, leaving only the lean. I need direction and instruction that comes from someone far more talented and experienced than me. How do you hone the power of the pen without it? How do you tempt those inner stories out into the open, give them legs and see them run? Or even WALK BRISKLY - shoot, I'm not being picky at this point. I just want, at some point in my life, to type the words "The End".

That seems utterly out of reach at times.

And, oh yes, I WILL take a little cheese with my whinin'-- thank you! Lovely of you to offer!

Anyway, the only thing I know to do as I await the arrival of my mentor (who will reveal him/herself in a dazzling display of light and prophetic brilliance VERY SOON, I'm sure of it), is to just keep writing. Write until my fingers are frighteningly numb and my characters all hate me. For the next two weeks, I plan to wake up an hour earlier, before the short ones rise, and pour some coffee down the gullet and make myself bleed ink. I shall, I say! Who knows what quality of literature will be produced in those bleary eyed moments, but maybe it will get me through the hardest part.

Well, I'm off to do the Things That Need To Be Done.

Hope everyone has a fruitful and relaxing weekend!

Readin'

In my hands lately:

Sin and Syntax: How to Write Wickedly Effective Prose by Constance Hale. This was a pleasure to read, even if you find grammar a bit tedious. She made it fun and surprisingly edgy, and it really tightened up my writing.

Creative Writing: For People Who Can't Not Write by Kathyrn Lindskoog. This reminded me of a textbook in some ways, very structured and informative. The last chapter was my favorite- it was a summary of the advice C.S. Lewis had given amateur writers who wrote him for his opinion through the years. Very insightful!

In the fiction arena, I finished the two part series by Laura Resnick, In Legend Born and In Fire Forged. A masterpiece in the fantasy genre. I was struck by her character development and a very unique storyline, but even more than that, I was moved by her talent as a writer to make you feel. A very gifted writer, and I was enthralled and inspired from cover to cover.

Clunkers

You know your car really needs some work when you are greeted upon arrival with the words, "Oh, I thought I heard you squeek up."

Untitled Part II (Is That Catchy Or What??)

Yeah, sorry about the untitled status-- it just hasn't come to me yet! Anyway, you can read part one here if you need to catch up.

The sun settled warmly on Cara’s bent head as she sat cross-legged in the over-grown field. Her hands effortlessly braided long pieces of rye grass into a wreath, knotting wild flowers into the strands as she worked. Her fingers flew deftly in lively rhythm, dancing in the familiar task. When she finished, she walked a few steps to her father’s grave with the offering. The heavy wooden cross bearing his name stood somberly, waiting for her. She sighed as she swept aside a faded and withered wreath, and looped her newest creation in its place. Stretching herself out on the raised ground, she gazed up at the clear sky and began her usual conversation with Pappy.

“Mama said I shouldn’t come see you anymore,” she said in a deflated voice. “She said it’s been long enough, and you would understand.” She paused and watched a little wren hopping in the brush, gathering bits of leaf in its beak. “She thinks I’m crazy. I know I’m not, though.” The bird cocked his head and twittered at her, making her smile. “Somebody has to tell you what happens at the house, Pappy. Like when Jillie fell off the silo and broke her arm, or when Everett set the chicken coop on fire. Who else would tell you?” The wren preened his feathers proudly and fluttered off into a nearby tree. Cara yawned and closed her eyes, listening to his love song. “That’s why I came today, Pappy. I had to tell you about Mama.” Her voice softened and her breathing relaxed as she basked in the afternoon light. “I think Mr. Clayton is sweet on her,” she said drowsily, “and he’ll probably ask her to marry him.” She grew silent, pondering what that would mean in her life.

The sounds of the summer day lulled her to sleep, into dreams of the days when Pappy was still alive. She saw him through the window as he kicked the dirt off his boots, and washed his hands in the bucket outside. He walked in and sat at the kitchen table, taking a glass of water from Mama, and gulped it down. This was Cara’s favorite dream of Pappy, as he came in from a long day of work in the hot sun. His smile was dusty and easy, and endless.

When Cara awoke, the sun was setting and the little wren had flown away. She wished the bird had stayed to watch over her father, so that he wouldn’t be alone when she left. It was a childish thought, and she knew it, but didn’t care. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, and kissed them, then placed her hand to the wooden cross. Leaving the kiss there for Pappy, she followed the well worn trail back home, hoping that Mr. Clayton would be gone by now.

Beginnings

"I've got a strict rule about holding hands on the beach," she said.

"Oh really? And what's that?" he replied.

"It's to be done at all times."

He laughed as he twined his fingers into hers. "I always was a stickler for the rules," he confessed.

Humor Me

Thank goodness for the warning. I nearly touched that thing!

Get your laugh on here. Thanks to Patrick for the link! He recommends this picture, which was also pretty funny, and originated from a prank of Kidd Kraddic's.

Exerpts from Elsewhere

Loved this from Sarcasmo.

"There is a certain sensual joy that comes with a used book store with its stacks in jumbles. First, there is the heady, dusky smell of old books, that heralds of time, history, and the sweet faint promise of mildew, so potent it fills the lungs and leaves an after- taste on the tongue. Then there is the visual joy of seeing so many books pressed so indecently together, huddled in corners, or in large, promiscuous piles; heaven! For the ears, a symphonic shush of slowly turned pages from every free corner and aisle, where fellow book-lovers carefully persuse yellowing pages. And then, ah! the feel of them...I especially like finding books with worn covers which open to yellowing pages and a name written on the plate decades ago..fading with time. I like the idea of sharing this story, these moments, with someone from the past...gently holding something they once held, running my fingers tenderly along the pages they handled, being touched by the same words that once moved them too."

For the rest, go here.

To Dad

June, and Father's Day edges it's way into her thoughts.

Her dad. In her mind, she zips around in an olive pond in his little troller boat, five years old, orange Charlie Brown fishingpole firmly in hand. She diligently searchs for tadpoles, and frogs, and turtles sunning on soggy logs as he points them out.

Bedtime, and she's laying in a pile of pillows, chin propped in her hands, soaking up the tales of trees that could walk and talk, and little people that went on great adventures (Tolkein kindergarten style). She looks proudly up at him, as her cousins, who sleep over, beg for one more story.

Racing through the house, she flees the rubber band fights that leave her giddy and breathless and giggly. Laughing at her father who has constructed make-shift rubber band guns, ducking and weaving to avoid getting hit. Knowing her dad is oddly wonderful, and spontaneous and fun.

Agonizing over the perfect gift for Father's Day, she finally decides on a box to keep his paperclips. Or a fish-shaped mug. Or a hand-made book of poetry. Or a four pound novelty chocolate bar. Or a ten gallon jug of cologne from the dollar store.

She remembers Monopoly. Bible stories. April Fools. Saturday softball. Christmas Fudge. Fantasy books. Ghost stories. Pizza night. Coronation ceremonies. Fish fries. The Natchez Trace.

Dads aren't perfect. That's a lesson that comes hard for some reason, especially to daughters. The world seems a little off kilter when that realization sets in for the first time. You find yourself floundering, stunned. It stings a little. But, then, something cool happens. You start to see the man behind the screen, and he's more than you thought. You begin to see that he is just as capable of making mistakes and stumbling as you are, but he's trying, just like you. He struggles to find his path, just like you. Now you can love him for the person that he really is, and not just because he's your dad. Embracing him despite his weaknesses and humanity, because he has embraced you knowing yours all along.

I don't say this often enough, or well enough, but I love my dad. He gave me a sanctuary to grow up in. He fueled my imagination, he curbed sinful tendencies, he challenged me and encouraged me, and instilled values and priorities that have guided me throughout my life. He wasn't perfect, and neither am I. One day, my children will see me that in me. But it is my hope, that they will also remember the sanctuary I tried to build around them, housing them in safety and love and fun.

When I look at my dad, those are the things I remember.

Open For Business

Awww!!! It's so good to be back! My sabbatical from the blog world was just what the doctor ordered, but I have been ansy the last few days to get back to business. As a side note, can we all agree that the term "blog" is uncomfortable? It's awkward and should be changed! Who's with me? Rally to the Cause!

And now, from My Mental List of Things To Blog About When I Make My Triumphant Return:

1. Saw 'Erry Potta'. (excuse the bad English/Australian? accent) Armed with a 2 lb box of Goobers and a tub of popcorn fit for a hippogriff, I was quite happy. They really had to blaze through the plot to get the whole thing in, but I can understand why. It was a looong book. My favorite part, probably the bus ride. I laughed till I cried over that one. It was actually BETTER than the book! Gasp!

2. Rain. I've warned you before, to GO AWAY. You are obviously not taking me very seriously. Don't make me come up there. Gr. GR, I say!

3. I have come to the sad conclusion that I am indeed the worst doodler of all time. I realized that I've been doodling the same exact flower and man in a top hat since the sixth grade. Sometimes I put nerdy glasses on him, or a bowtie, or a mustache, but that's it. I mean, come on! You'd think I could make a tiny bit of progress in twenty years!

4. Last night, I dreamed I was swinging on a rope above an alligator infested pond, and the rope was beginning to untwine. That's probably not good, right? Yeah. I'm pretty much doomed for something.

5. But, what IS good, is a miracle. And that's what I've seen at work over the past few weeks. A lady came in, twenty weeks pregnant with twins, in premature labor. (40 weeks is the average normal period, FYI) She's on medicine to stop it, but it didn't look good and her family asked for our prayers. It's become a prayer-chain of sorts, and we've developed a special relationship with the family. She made it to 22 weeks, and one of the babies had to be taken in a c-section because of some problems, and she has survived! She's a tiny little thing, in the NICU, but she's doing pretty well. Her brother still isn't born yet, and hopefully won't be until he's good and strong. Amazing. Really- twins that will be born weeks apart, defying all the odds! I am so glad they got a miracle! And glad I got to see it. It's those things in life that really give you the right perspective, ya know?

Well friends, on that note, I'll wrap it up. May I say - tis good to be home again!

Now... Scat! Get on with your bad self.

Go on... shoo.