Government shut down thoughts.

So, I have been following the matters of the government shut down here in the USA with some interest. There has been several crazy memes flying around on Facebook. I won't dignify them with reposting but I can summarize them pretty quickly.

1. It is a vast plot to overthrow the government.
2. It is because of some sort of conspiracy to defraud the people.
3. It is because President Obama is ... [fill in racial/politically oriented slur]

Now, some people, like the local media big shot Bob Lonsberry have been very 'hey the government shut down is a good thing!' and they treat the whole affair like it is some kind of joke. I think his position on it all can be summarized really well with one statement he made about this business. "All people M-16 qualified are essential [government] personnel." Some people are deeply troubled by it all and have expressed their distress over the fact that important programs are not getting funding.

I think it's reckless of people like Mr. Lonsberry to make this thing out to be a joke. After the first day or two, it stopped being funny. We're at the beginning of the third week. I thought that somebody was going to blink last week. I was wrong. I'm now hoping that my Anam Cara was not prophetic about this not being resolved by the 17th.

I know that this mess is getting taken seriously when I see people on food stamps doing what they can to stock up for possibly going without food for a period of time. When I was in Wegmans today, I was in line behind two men who were pooling their resources (I had heard them discussing how to divide their respective purchases between themselves) to buy big packages of meat. At first, I didn't think much of it. Then I happened to overhear the discussion as to if they had enough funds left on their EBT cards to pick up vegetables.

One man had a minor panic over the cost of the package of meat he was getting until the cashier explained to him the effect of his Wegmans' card on the purchase. Some people may just scoff at these two men. Some people may say that they're some how bottom feeders and that they deserve to have their funds cut off. (I'm looking at you, Mr. Lonsberry.) It's hard for me to believe that attitude. These men looked like people who worked hard everyday. I could tell that they do some sort of manual labor. I think they were probably farmhands judging by the fact that one of them was wearing a John Deere hat and neither of them seemed to have roofing tar on them.

You see, programs like food stamps don't go strictly to the 'welfare queens' that people like Mr. Lonsberry like to crow about and insist are a blight against society. They also help out people like poor working folks who are having a hard time making enough money to feed themselves. They help out people who are disabled and can't work due to the severity of their disability. This government shut down is going to hurt a lot of people if it goes on much longer.

It's not just the 'superfluous' government workers that are losing money here. I would also go so far as to argue that these jobs are not 'superfluous'. If they were, then they wouldn't exist. Somebody needs to cut the grass at the national parks. Somebody needs to clean the bathrooms at the Smithsonian. Somebody needs to make sure that tax fraud is getting handled. Somebody needs to run the printing presses at the mint.

And each of these people who are not working right now, they're not able to put money into the economy. People want to crow about how much money is getting 'saved' by these 'non-essential' government workers not being at work. What about how much money is not going into the economy on this basis? The government shut down is not a good thing.

I don't know if this is the beginning of an ugly chapter in the history of the US. I just know that my gut is telling me that the winds are shifting and not in a good way. So, I do what I can to prepare for possible problems and hope that this doesn't turn into a disaster.

Hrm..

So, in the course of my grocery shopping this week, I picked up a bottle of Nature's Nectar Sparkling Spiced Pumpkin Cider. At $2.00 a bottle, it wasn't a budget killing purchase. I had been drinking a great deal of cider over the last few days (purchasing a gallon last week was a tasty decision) and the idea of something that was a little bit different but still cider sounded good to me. After putting most of the groceries away, I worked up a powerful thirst and I decided to crack this stuff open and give it a try.

I was expecting something like mulled cider with a suggestion of pumpkin. What I got was like ginger ale with a pumpkin-apple pie after taste. Honestly, I was of a mixed mind about the stuff. I don't think it was terrible but I feel that it was a dirty trick to play on cider lovers. I am not adverse to getting another bottle of the stuff (as there was not very much in that bottle).

Last week, I did my grocery shopping at Walmart. My total bill came in a whopping $250 dollars. The week before that, I did my shopping at Wegmans. My bill was about $200 dollars, though I bought a bit less stuff. This week, I purchased most of my groceries at Aldi's (getting the veggies, milk, and pull ups for Snugglebug at Wegmans) and my bill was $100. The total of the other stuff at Wegmans was $50. By going to two stores, I saved $100 off my grocery bill.

I think  the end result of this little experiment is that I'm going to continue my shopping at Aldi's. I have been busy restocking my pantry for possible disaster. As we are coming up on the beginning of the season of hard weather, I wanted to put by enough food where if we are unable to get out to the store I have provisions for at least a week. So far, I have the makings of several different kinds of bean soups and a fair amount of pasta put up.

I picked up a couple of canned hams and when I get groceries next week, I think I'm going to pick up some more canned meat. I figure any housewife with my upbringing that is worth their salt should be able to take canned meat and turn it into something reasonably palatable. Worst case scenario, I have cookbooks of three generations to reference here. There has to be something in there to make Spam into something worth eating.

So done with today.

It has been a really long day. I got a lot of stuff done, even though I feel like you can't really tell. I'm completely worn out but I made it through the day with out succumbing to the temptation of taking a nap. Perhaps I can manage this tomorrow as well. Worst case scenario, I'll power up on coffee. After all, caffeine is my friend, right?

Random thoughts.

This blog post a day thing just isn't working out right now. It makes me dread next month a bit. I suppose I have some good reasons for not posting everyday. Things like a wedding and not having the time to post this weekend are logical reasons. I am working to be forgiving of myself, though it feels counter intuitive.

I had some odd dreams this morning when I took my nap. I dreamed that I was back at college. All of the anxieties of living in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar people, and of being truly on my own for the first time came roaring back in that dream. I think I owe Njord's Darling something of an apology. Intellectually, I recalled this difficulty but the reality of it was blurred by the past. I think I painted too easy of a picture of how one makes friends in a new environment, I fear.

And then there is the awkward feeling/push to mend fences with A. I look at it all and I honestly feel a mixed sense of mortification, frustration, and something that I can't exactly define. I'm realizing that my friendship with A. was a casualty of the depressive episode that I was in this summer. I am also realizing that it was a measure of cowardice that I didn't say something to A. about what was troubling me.

I'm inwardly flailing over how to approach the whole thing. A part of me says I should hold my silence because it just was a terrible thing that I did and that there is no good reason to expect that she would be willing to deal with me again. On the whole, I haven't any idea how to proceed. I'm stuck in this place where I am wavering between doing something and not. It's awful.

The news today.

So, a guy lit himself on fire in DC today. A woman got shot after a weird car chase in DC yesterday. A tropical storm is bearing down on the northern coast of the gulf as people are trying to get FEMA funded at the last minute. And, let us not forget, the govenor of Pennsylvania declared that being gay is like incest.

What in Hel's name is wrong with people today? In other news, somebody was clever at the National Weather Service in Alaska. Well played, guys, well played.

Another day...

I have decided that I need to start work on getting ready for NaNoWriMo. I was on the fence as to what project I should work on. Then one of my friends nudged me in the direction of writing the second book in the fantasy series. On paper, I'm a third of the way through the outline of the first part of the story. I may have to revise my count of how many books this is going to make. >.<

News!

It is with great joy that I announce that my first novel is available for purchase. This has been over a decade in the making. This is the first book in a series. If you are curious about the series, a bit of the back story is up in my other blog. I will be adding new material to that a touch later this week.

The story about the novel is kind of interesting. When I was a young girl, I told my great grandmother that I was going to write her a book. I then became a touch obsessed with everything relating to being a writer. Time passed and my great grandmother did as well. Where this would have crushed some people's motivation, I just dug my heels in and became yet more determined.

I was a quiet child. I found the greatest comfort in the works of fantasy and I dreamed about being a princess. Unlike other girls, however, the princess in my dreams was not waiting for some hero to come rescue her. No, my princess was a hero in her own right. I read the myths of my ancestors and the works of some of the most brilliant minds that ever wrote fiction. Even as I dreamed, I studied my craft.

I had some aptitude for writing when I was in school. After reading the Lord of the Rings and the Simarillion in seventh grade, I decided that I had to write down the story that was living within me. My very first attempt was a four page long story. Even then, I called it my book. I will never forget the day I finished my very first draft. I brought it to my Grandmother, the daughter of the great grandmother (who was an author, like her mother) and nearly burst with pride as she read it.

She then looked at me over the tops of her glasses and said, "But where's the rest of the story?"

Over the course of time between seventh grade and when I graduated high school, I worked relentlessly on that story. By the time I had something novel length, I had decided that this was my profession. I went off to college and even as I found myself pulled in different directions, my writing continued to be my pole star. It was somewhere after the first semester of my freshman year that tragedy happened.

The manuscript that I held as my life line through high school was lost. The file it was on was corrupted and I had one paragraph left. So, I did what I felt that any other author worth their salt would do. I picked up my pen and I set to work. Over the course of the next year, I wrote my second version of the manuscript. I decided that I was going to edit it and attempt the arduous process of publication.

I was half way through editing it when I lost the second version. Life got in the way of writing for a while. I poured my story out into journal entries and random short pieces where I could find the time to write. Little did I realize that I was building a world. Six years later, I wrote the third version of the story. I was smart and I made a hard copy. While the failures of technology consumed the digital copy, I had my book in hand.

I laboriously worked on editing that manuscript. As I worked, I found that my little story wasn't as simple as those first four pages. So, rather then trying to force it all into one text, I built an outline of the story. That was when I realized with more then a little bit of shock that my little four page story was actually a series of twelve books. Then I sat down and I wrote the outline for the story that came before and after my little four page story. To say the least, I have a great deal of work ahead of me.

I stumbled into National Novel Writing Month about seven years ago. My beloved late friend Liz, who had read my earlier versions of what I had called 'the novel' pointed me in that direction. I wrote the fourth version of the manuscript that year. I put it into a proverbial drawer and forgot about it as my life became focused on the challenges of motherhood. In 2009, I blew the dust off of the manuscript and sat down with it again.

I wrote the fifth version of my manuscript over the course of the month of November. When I finished it, Liz was one of the first people to read it. She declared that I needed to stop sitting on the story and get it published. It wasn't long after then that Liz died. I was crushed and for a time gave up on my dream. Trouble came to visit my family and I found myself desperate for solace.

Rather then re-write my manuscript for a sixth time, I wrote something entirely different. (That book is in the midst of editing right now.) When I found myself with a regained sense of equilibrium, I returned to 'the novel' and went through it with great care. Last year, my Grandfather was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. It became apparent to me that time was drawing short for me to do what I had decided.

I worked with a measure of frantic effort and more then a little escapism. Having my alter ego battling forces of evil, where triumph was assured, was easier for me then dealing with the fact that my Grandfather was dying. And when I had asked him what I could do to be of any help, he explicitly told me to continue with my writing. So, I threw myself into it with abandon.

In April of this year, I published my first work. It is a little prayer book that I dedicated to my grandparents. While I wasn't able to put a copy of the book into his hands, my Grandfather knew before he died that I was a published author. In September, I published my second work, a horror novella that was my solace in the last months of my Grandfather's illness. He died before it was finished. I dedicated it to him. And now, I have this work to share. When the holidays come, I'll be giving my Grandmother a copy of each of these books.

It doesn't matter to me that I did this through a 'vanity press'. All that matters is that I have done what I said I was going to do. Now, if after reading this story of mine you would like to purchase any of my books, please do so. If you would like a signed copy, you will have to wait a few months.

The Dragon's Daughter (e-book, paperback, and hard cover) is my fantasy novel, or as I have called it 'the novel.' The Red Chair (e-book and paperback) is the horror novella. Rose Petals (e-book and paperback) is the prayer book and the first book I ever published.

Oct. NaBloPoMo #1

Just a short entry today. The way I see it, if I manage to even get a sentence done, it counts as a post. I have a lot to be thankful for right now. I am striving to focus on that rather then the fears that I am not good enough and such. I am also working on not letting my social phobia control me.

As such, I am pushing past my comfort zone and making a point of going out and being social today. I am also making a point of being 'available' to do readings. Last month, my illnesses ran the show a lot. It had the unfortunate side effect of my 'missing time' and several bills getting paid late. My goal for this month is to avoid this happening again.

In other news, I have a few works published as of last month. This week, I'll be putting out my first novel via Lulu. I am as jumpy as a cat in a rocking chair factory, but I am doing my best to quell my nerves and make this happen anyways. I have over a decade worth of work into this stuff. It's long past time I got serious and published any of it.

Here's the links to the stuff I do have published right now.

The Red Chair - paperback $7.00  e-book $1.50

Rose Petals - paperback $9.00   e-book $2.99

Deleted a blog, anticipating challenges on the book, and editing woes.

I have deleted one of my fiction blogs. The story of Angel versus Xenogen will be coming back but as an e-book. The science fiction story is a bit convoluted but I anticipate that it should come together and be finished by February. I have most of the story line plotted out. It is just a matter of writing up the sentences based off of the bullet points.

I am going to probably still write it in small chunks. The holidays are going to be blisteringly busy and writing time is going to be at a premium. It is also going to take a little bit of work to 'shift gears' from fantasy to science fiction. I have my little notebook of ideas and some of the earliest stuff that I wrote relating to this story kicking around. I'll be dragging it out after a little while.

Right now, I'm just trying to focus on the various projects I have kicking around and organizing my workload. I am a bit stumped on how to clean up some of the enormous manuscript of the fetish novel. There are elements that I am pretty sure that I need to re-envision but the original work just is all that comes to mind.

I feel like editing for grammar is the easy part. This editing for content business, however, is utterly maddening. I have also noticed that my consumption of tea has increased dramatically. I am now consuming it by the pot rather then by the cup. Thank goodness my cupboard is well stocked.

Joke found on the interwebz

One day, a man is walking along the beach and comes across an odd-looking bottle. Not being one to ignore tradition, he rubs it and, much to his surprise, a genie actually appears. "For releasing me from the bottle, I will grant you three wishes," says the genie.

The man is ecstatic. "But there's a catch," the genie continues. "What catch?" asks the man, eyeing the genie suspiciously. The genie replies, "For each of your wishes, every lawyer in the world will receive DOUBLE what you ask for." "Hey, I can live with that! No problem!" replies the elated man.

"What is your first wish?" asks the genie. "Well, I've always wanted a Ferrari!" POOF! A Ferrari appears in front of the man. "Now, every lawyer in the world has been given TWO Ferraris," says the genie. "What is your next wish?" "I could really use a million dollars," replies the man, and POOF! One million dollars appears at his feet. "Now every lawyer in the world is TWO million dollars richer," the genie reminds the man. "Well, that's OK, as long as I've got MY million," replies the man.

"And what is your final wish?" asks the genie. The man thinks long and hard, and finally says, "Well, you know, I've always wanted to donate a kidney."

Credit to Bob G.

Fiber fest and other stuff.

So, last weekend I went with my mother in law to Fiber Fest over in Hemlock. It rained all day but I think it did me a bit of good. The rain kept the crowds down to a minimum. I spent most of my time wandering around and avoiding crowded areas. I think the touch of sinus issues that I have right now is a combination of allergies and the lingering effects of that jaunt.

I dropped some coin into spinning supplies. I picked up two new spindles. One is a little 4 ounce supported spindle. The other is a small sized bottom whorl spindle with a lovely clay whorl with celtic knots inscribed onto it. I picked up some fiber too, because you can't buy spindles with out getting something to spin, right? I also bought a set of US size 2 double pointed knitting needles. I realized that I needed a set to make that pair of socks I wanted and I couldn't pass by getting the set for $1.00.

I had a lovely time admiring the horses that were drawing the wagon around the festival and the fiber producing livestock that folks had brought with them. This year, there was only one llama. It was an indifferent beast, seemingly ignoring his handlers with the same aplomb as he ignored his admirers. I was impressed with the Icelandic sheep that I got to pet.

It was the yearling ram who headbutted my hand for more pets that I really enjoyed. I'm familiar with cats and dogs doing this. I never expected a sheep to do that. I was sorely tempted to buy some of the fiber that came from that black coated ram but the price was just outside of my budget, so I contended myself with pets. The owners were amused with how charmed I was by their rams. I think it was the fact that I talked to him, where as others just stared or patted the nose once or twice, that amused them the most.

I did what I usually did when I encountered an animal, I talked to them. As such, the horses, sheep, and rabbits all got a bit of attention and babble directed at them. Most people just looked at me funny. Not even the kids there were willing to talk to the animals. I found that kinda curious. I don't know, maybe I am the weird one. *shrugs* I'm not going to try to figure it out.

I have been really busy over the last several days. I am working on prepping two manuscripts for publication via Lulu. Last week, I sent out the second version of my prayer book. I published it as an e-book and a paperback. I hope to have stuff sorted out so that I can get my other works up on Lulu soon. I'm at something of a loss for how to market it, but I'll figure that out after I get stuff up there.

Open Letter to a Troll

Dear Troll 'John Oputa':

Your attempts to troll are amusingly pathetic. At some point in time, I highly suggest that you pick up a copy of Strunk and White's Elements of Style, a thesaurus, and the AP Style manual. Those three items will assist you dramatically.

Please, allow me to expound upon the reason why you are in need of these three books. You wrote:

Dear Miskell,Your earliest response would be appreciated on the regards.

I am Mr John Oputa, a legal practitioner in Togo Republic West Africa

and personal attorney to Engineer A.Miskell, a deceased client of mine

who died in a car accident along Kara express Road On the 21st of

April 2008, with, his wife and their only daughter.

I have contacted you to assist in the distribution of the funds left

valued at US$8.5 million.

For more explanations please reply to my private email johnoputa55@gmail.com

Yours faithfully

John Oputa.

Line one of your missive is a glaring error. The greeting of a letter is to be presented upon its own line. Additionally, your sentence is passive. If you are in the business of exhorting people to do things, you must use more active voice. As such, consider rephrasing the sentence thusly:

I would appreciate your earliest response on the matter.

Line two of your letter is simply atrocious. Mr. Oputa, if you are truly an educated man who is versed in English as well as your native language, you would have recognized that your run-on sentence is awkward to read, at best. If you wish to use this in the future, please, rephrase this into two separate sentences. This does not fatigue the reader's eye and maintains active voice. Maintaining active voice serves to engage your reader and makes them more pliant to your persuasions.

Additionally, Mr. Oputa, you failed to use proper punctuation in your title. This does not bode well for someone who is of your supposed level of education. I will not state the obvious errors you have made in capitalization, the use of comma-splicing, or your poor execution of conveying the urgency of the situation.

Line three of your letter is by far the most legible of the missive. At the same time, however, your passive voice continues to plague your writing. I will not insult your intelligence by presuming to give you a better phrasing. I am certain that this simple error is quite easily resolved with a little bit of thought.

Line four of your letter is marginally better then line three. Failure to use proper punctuation at the end of the line is something that I can forgive. Inserting e-mail addresses into the final clause of a sentence is difficult and can make punctuation problematic.

Mr. Oputa, your failure to impress me with your missive most assuredly means that you will fail to impress me in other areas. If you, an educated man, can not write a simple e-mail to me that properly expresses the urgency of your mission or presents a compelling argument for me to contact you, I highly doubt you can muster up anything truly of interest. If you wish to try again, I will be happy to assist you.

The fee for my services as a beta-reader and editor begins at $100/hr. This can be negotiated, provided you are accomplished enough in the language to engage in such a discussion. If you are unable to do so, Mr. Oputa, I would suggest that you speak with your colleague, the most unimpressively named Tom.

I am most disappointed. Mr. Oputa. If I were grading your work, I would give you an 'F' and have you re-write this letter until it is correct. At which time, I would then have you copy it thirty times, to ensure that the proper methodology of how to compose correspondence is burned into your feeble brain.

So, I published some stuff.

The Red Chair has finally made it through the editing process. It is up on Lulu as both a paperback and an ebook. My next task will be to distribute the links through out the blog-o-sphere and the social networking sites I am on. They're both inexpensive works. It's the first time I have something out there under my real name.

I'm a little nervous but at the same time I am excited. It's not everyday that I do this. Who knows, I may get this thing to work out pretty well for me.

Good Morning World!

The boys are happily playing trains and cars just across the room. I've got some cheerful music playing on the radio and I have made some major progress on a long term project I have been working on for months. All I need is another cup of coffee.

I am feeling pretty good about life. It is a glorious thing to feel this way. I am profoundly thankful.

I'm a Feminist.

I had a hard time sleeping last night because of how angry I was over the treatment that these young ladies had gotten for standing up for their rights. I get furious over the blatant disrespect, harassment, and verbal abuse that young women are routinely subjected to. The tired old excuse of 'boys are just that way' makes me so angry that I have a hard time seeing straight.

I get furious when I hear people say that feminism is a 'finished' thing. (I have the same response when I hear that said about racism too, by the way.) The fight for equal rights is not going to be finished until people are judged on the merits of their work and behavior, rather then their appearance. It's not going to be finished until harassment of women under the guise of flirtation is no longer tolerated. It's not going to be finished until women are getting equal pay for equal work. It's not going to be finished until people look at a stay at home mom and acknowledge how much hard work she does, and the value of her contribution to society, rather then saying she's 'just a housewife.'

When the subtle and gross insults that insinuate that one gender is less then another are eradicated from our language, perhaps then we can begin to engage in an open discussion of what gender is really about. When people stop upholding the double standard that men can be bare chested in public with out criticism but women being bare chested is obscene, perhaps we can begin a real discussion about what is decent dress and manner of behavior for a setting. I could keep listing off injustices subtle and gross until I'm blue in the face and I wouldn't begin to scrape the surface of this pervasive problem.

Feminism is not about decrying men or putting them down. It's about creating a culture where gender matters about as much as your toenail clippings. It's about creating a society where people are considered on the merits of their behavior, actions, and ideas. I'm not a feminist because I am angry or because I hate men. I'm a feminist because I see a fundamental problem in how our society operates and that I must take action to correct it.

I want my sons to grow up in a more just world. The only way that is going to happen is if I take steps to make sure it is in my home and in the people we associate with. Boys are not born misogynistic. They are taught this. We need to teach them a better way.

Conscious kindness.

I've been doing a lot of thinking today about what it means to be kind. It's especially difficult to do when you are upset or in an otherwise unpleasant mental space. I have been struggling today with a decision on how to handle a situation that brought up a lot of unpleasant feelings. As I examined the feelings, I found myself making a determined effort to let go of them and treating them like physical sensations.

It was a bit frustrating at first. A part of me wanted to throw in the proverbial towel and just let myself be all angry and hurt. I then asked myself, was that the kind thing to do? It was less a matter of being kind to some other person and more one of being kind to myself. When it was all said and done, I came to the conclusion that wallowing in anger and angst was a cruel thing to do to myself.

So, I returned to observing the sensation of anger and angst. Somewhere in the midst of this, the hold of those feelings waned. It was no longer nigh on all consuming. I then moved from observing the sensation to getting to the root of it. I named what I was feeling and then identified the cause. Once I established what the cause of the feeling was, I carefully considered what each possible way to address the cause that came to mind.

My recurrent question as I looked at the costs and benefits of each action that was 'is it just?' and then it was 'is it kind?' It took me a while to sift through the emotional response that each considered action brought to the fore. I found myself rehearsing arguments with people, regardless if those arguments were even going to happen. I found myself considering what would be sufficient to make the people who had upset me regret doing so. I found myself considering petty retorts that while temporarily satisfying would have only proven to exacerbate the problem.

The thing that I surprised myself with, however, was that even as I explored the actions that I didn't believe to be fitting (because I decided that any possible solution that came to mind had to be carefully examined before being discarded), I wasn't judgmental towards myself for thinking of them. I disengaged from criticism by way of looking at what the emotions at play behind the response that I considered were.

It took me a significant portion of my afternoon to get down to the roots of all the feelings involved. I carefully examined each possible solution that would address the primary problems. When I finished examining them all, I put each one through my two bellwether questions (mentioned earlier). Once I found the solution that met both requirements, I decided that I was finished with my exploration. The conscious exploration of what was both a just and a kind solution just served to further cement in my mind that I choose to be a kind person.

Kindness is mistaken by some people for weakness. In my relentless pursuit of the best solution to the problem that evoked the negative response from me, I realized that it takes great strength to remain kind when the situation evokes a passionate desire to be seeking retribution, even under the guise of being just. It's less a matter of wrestling with something external at that point and struggling against yourself. I think that kindness won this round because I consciously chose to remain kind despite what other options there were.

The temporary satisfaction that might have come from cutting retorts just wouldn't outweigh the long term complications that would have come from it. It also would have been something that I would have regretted. So, I chose kindness.

Short Fiction: Mr. Nailson

He looked down at his watch and then flicked an invisible bit of lint off of the cuff of his wool suit. The call center was a hive of busy activity, but the tall, lean redheaded man seemed to take no notice of it. His clothes were perfect for the setting, just the right mix of severity and casual to make him blend in with anyone at any level in the company, with the exception of the janitorial staff. The only thing that seemed a bit off was the set of scars running down the middle of each lip. The scars were fainter on his upper lip, but the discoloration was still pronounced enough that it caught the eye.

As he waited for his meeting, he watched the people about him. Some of them seemed to stand out as brilliant lights of personality. Others just seemed to be bland copies of each other. He wasn't sure if he pitied the ones who lacked originality or if he was disgusted by them. This question, and curiosity as to what there was to see, kept his eyes moving over the people about him. A balding heavy set man made his way out of a cubicle at the head of the line immediately before the waiting man.

As he walked up to his two fifteen appointment, he glanced down at the folder in his hand. The resume was impressive. It was clear that the neatly dressed man was overqualified for a phone jockey job, but the economy was hard. The balding man reached up and adjusted his tie minutely, realizing that he was at least two inches shorter then the man before him with a measure of discomfort. Pushing aside the unease roiling in the pit of his stomach, he reached forward and took the other man's hand.

Pumping the hand of the man before him up and down in an almost mechanical gesture as he affected an air of bored disinterest, the man in the suit found himself disgusted by the wretch before him. He had heard talk about this Mr. Smythe. Apparently, he had acquired a reputation for something of a bully. It was part of the reason why the red haired man was there. Tired of having a sobbing woman on the phone, he took the matter into his own hands. It took a bit of information manipulation and a few well placed deceptions, but it was shockingly easy to maneuver himself so that he was interviewing with his friend's harasser.

Smythe considered if the man who followed him down the corridor was a potential threat to his position. Recalling the long lapse between positions that he noted on the resume, Smythe was fairly certain that the tall man would bend to his will. After all, when a man with those kinds of qualifications is applying for a bottom feeder job, he has to be desperate for work. Smythe opened the door of the conference room and gestured the man in the black suit into the room. He thought about the scars on the other man's face, wondering if the red haired man was trouble. Smythe considered the other man's lean build and decided that it had to be some childhood mishap or something equally mundane to have caused the other's distinctive features. A toothpick thin man can't be much of a threat to anyone, right?

The tall man sat down in the chair at the right of the head of the table. Smythe took the chair at the head of the table, unable to suppress the quick thrill. He wanted to be head of the department. If he pulled it off, this would be his regular seat rather then down at the other end between a wet behind the ears college kid and a woman that he dubbed an ice queen. Smythe was pretty sure that she had to be some kind of militant feminist or something because she wouldn't even give him the time of day. Caught up in his brief fantasy of putting that ice queen into a position where she had to acknowledge his superiority, Smythe handed the tall man one of the bubble questionnaires that was in the folder.

The red haired man looked down at the form and restrained the urge to yawn. He was bored of paperwork. The entire project had been far too much paper pushing so far and he was ready to move onto the next phase. Deciding that his mark was sufficiently duped, the red haired man folded hands on the table before himself. Smythe looked at him in askance.

"Mr. Nailson, do you need a pen?" he asked. Nailson resisted the urge to smile, it was too easy. Smythe pulled a pen out of his pocket and reached across the table to hand it to Nailson. The moment the two hands met, Smythe gasped. Suddenly, the world seemed to have changed. Smythe sat up abruptly with a gasp, finding himself back in his cubicle. Nailson leaned against the outside wall of the cubicle, looking down at him.

"Mr. Smythe," said Nailson in an almost pleasant sounding tone, "I trust that your nap was sufficient?" Smythe looked about himself with a sense of dread, alarmed and deeply troubled by the change of events. Smythe opened his mouth to speak when Nailson lifted a finger on the hand resting on the top of the cubicle wall. "They can't see me. They can't hear me. As far as everyone else here is concerned, I don't exist," Nailson said.

Smythe reached to pick up the phone and call security when Nailson reached over and put a hand down on the receiver. Smythe stood up and called out, "Security!" Nailson's smug smirk was infuriating. Smythe move to push Nailson aside but, Nailson moved and Smythe fell out of his chair. As he sprawled on the floor, a few heads poked out of their respective cubicles and looked at him in confusion and mild alarm. Smythe's face darkened as he spluttered, "Security!"

One of Smythe's coworkers picked up their phone and punched a few numbers. Nailson pointed towards the commotion down the corridor as two burly security guards bustled towards them. Relief was palpable in Smythe's face as he scrambled to his feet. "Security, get this man out of here," Smythe demanded, pointing towards Nailson. The security guards gave Smythe an odd look. Smythe looked over his shoulder towards Nailson but the tall red headed man had moved.

He had walked over by where a small group was gathering. Confusion and concern was painted over their faces as Smythe glared at him. "Get him out of here, call the police," Smythe demanded. His coworkers looked between themselves and moving back as he stepped forward. Nailson didn't move, rather his smirk turned into a grin. Smythe's blood seemed to be set afire as the mysterious Nailson grinned at him.

Smythe remembered a grin similar to that. He was seventeen and a girl had laughed off his advances. He was going to put her in her place when she grinned at him and said two words, the same two that Nailson said as Smythe opened and closed his hands at his side: Do it. Fury that had boiled beneath the surface at the cool looks and the icy civility of his coworkers mingled with the anger that Smythe felt at Nailson's presence. "You're as bad as that bitch," Smythe spat, closing his right hand into a ham sized fist.

He swung and Nailson moved away. Failing to meet his target, Smythe was over balanced by his swing and stumbled forward. Squawks of alarm and demands that security do something came from the people who scrambled back away from Smythe. Nailson grinned at Smythe, standing in front of security. One of them stared at Smythe utterly in shock. The older of the two, a barrel chested man with a squint in his right eye and a name badge of Boorson looked Smythe over with an expression of disgust.

"Get this smirking son of a bitch out of here," Smythe demanded, glaring at Boorson.

Nailson made a rude gesture at Smythe, who lost what shreds of his composure he had regained to swing again. Boorson brushed past Nailson and tackled Smythe. He pinned the big, roly poly man to the floor as Smythe started to shout vulgarities. All of the rage that Smythe had nursed and conserved over the years came boiling out of him. Boorson restrained Smythe as his compatriot ran for the EMS personnel that were arriving. After a brief struggle, Smythe was wrestled onto a gurney. Nailson walked along side of the gurney along with Boorson as Smythe screamed death threats at him.

Boorson and Nailson walked out of the building. They watched as the EMS personnel loaded Smythe into the ambulance. Police walked between the two men and into the building. Boorson looked over at Nailson and shook his head. "Subtle, he said," the older man said. Nailson shrugged as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The pair walked across the blacktop as a pair of ravens pecked the ground.

How life killed my garden this year...

At the beginning of the month, I wound up going into the hospital due to complications with my disabilities. While I was in there, Beloved did his best to make sure that my prized plants survived the spate of ridiculously hot weather that we had. Unfortunately, he didn't realize that I had vegetable plants and a few herbs growing out on the back deck. Between the heat and the wonky weather earlier in the year, my hopes of getting a few tomatoes and some other veggies were dashed.

I got home and took one look at the back deck. Lots of dead plants. Hubby was able to keep my plants out front alive and well. I was thrilled to see how wonderfully my rose bushes are doing. I think I'd have cried if I lost yet another rose bush. I think that all the rest of my plants out side could have died and I wouldn't have cared if my roses were fine. I have a minor problem with Japanese Rose Beetles, but nothing compared to last year.

I still want to do a bit of canning this year and a few other food preserving projects. While the farmer's market is still going on, I think I'll be going over there and buying what I need. Because I'm going to be doing small batch canning, so I won't be putting up huge amounts of produce. Some of what I want to make, I can use frozen fruit for. (The difference between the strawberry freezer jam made with fresh vs frozen berries seems to be the frozen is a touch sweeter.)

I am thinking about what to do with the soil and how to store the pots for next season. I am seriously considering using the big plastic tote to store the soil. I'm torn between that or making something of a pile on the edge of the lawn near the trees. I have decided that I will be making compost but I'm unsure on the logistics of making this work. I think, however, that I'm just going to use the opportunity I have now to plan for next year.

After all, having a smaller workload with my plants means that I have more time to do the other stuff that needs done around here to get ready for autumn.

Mostly clean house, not bad for a monday.

The boys have been busy today. Snuggle Bug went off to preschool for the first day of summer session. He came home with what appears to be chocolate stains on the front of his outfit. I'm guessing this means that they had chocolate milk at lunch time, but I'm not sure. Cuddle Bear and I went for a walk to check out the Summer Program at Vitale Park. When we got there, however, we discovered that today was the day that the Summer Rec. kids had a program and it wasn't open to the public. We were assured, however, that tomorrow is open to the general public.

They said something about doing a feature on fish tomorrow. I'm pretty sure that Cuddle Bear will enjoy it. He is very interested in our betta fish, named Swimmers. The plan is that we go over there for their morning program, Cuddle Bear gets some socialization time with his peers, and then we head home to do some academic work.

Today, we focused on hand writing skills and fine motor skills. We then went out for another walk. The plan was to stop briefly at his best friend's house to visit before stopping for a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches at Minnehan's. It's funny, but the morning walk looked like rain so we brought an umbrella. The afternoon walk, however, looked like clear skies. So we left the umbrella home.

Shortly after we reached our friends' house, the skies opened up and it poured. Rather then walking the additional half mile, we just went home. We were drenched by the time we got home. So, we changed into dry clothes. Then I whipped together a lunch of snack foods. Cuddle Bear was especially pleased with the pretzels. Aldi has these honey-wheat twists that don't have a lot of salt. Pretty much the whole family loves them.

The last bucket of them that I got lasted us just over a week. After lunch, I started to wash up dishes when Cuddle Bear insisted that he had to help. As a result, he washed 90% of the dishes that needed done. He did a pretty good job, too. When it came to picking up the living room, however, he wasn't interested at all in helping with that. Once I finish this entry, I'm going to finish up the last little bit of work for that task. Then I'm going to give Cuddle Bear the electric sweeper and Snuggle Bug the duster. I will set them loose upon the room. As they're doing that, I'm going to water plants.

This evening, I'm going to try to get out and actually get a bit of serious exercise in. My approximate mile of walking was good for me, but I want to try to get a little running in. I've been thinking about it and giving up on the 5K really doesn't sound right to me. So, I am going to make time to run after Beloved gets home from work. If I run a bit everyday, that should have me up to running three miles by the end of September, right?

I am probably going to wind up wearing the pink shorts that I feel make my legs look awful. But, the focus is not how my legs look, but what I am doing with them, right? Mood wise, I'm in something of a mixed state. This has me not able to sit still for very long. (Hence why I've been working on catching up on my cleaning.) This is an improvement over the weekend and a few days before, where I was feeling somewhat depressed and anxious.

Dinner tonight is hamburgers. I'm also going to be giving the kids a bit of store made sauerkraut on the side with some chips. We'll see how they take to the sauerkraut with apples. They may like it, or they may turn their noses up at it.

Tour De Fleece status: bust.

I was hoping to do a lot of spinning for TdF this year. The humidity has been so horrid, however, that fiber is felting in my hands before I can do anything with it. I also have discovered that the bag of fleece that I thought I could just start spinning off of actually needs carded first. And it is a LOT of fleece. I think I'm going to have to resign myself to basically not participating in TdF this year. I'm pretty disappointed, but life happens.