Random Thoughts

Random Thought Thursday

2012-01-26T04:00:00.144-06:00

I haven't been around much this past week because I've been busy in our yard. See, we had this old 500 gallon propane tank that quit on us. After some discussion we decided to get a new 250 gallon tank. Well, it wasn't just a matter of removing the old tank and installing the new one. Nope. It required de-landscaping a good portion of our yard, which included tearing apart plant beds and removing a small small tree.

Bye-bye old tank. Had to pull away a fence, and where the tractor is were two plant beds.

Hello new tank. You can see in right in front of the tank some of the trees roots left behind.

There were other beds in the area that also had to be taken apart so the tank could go in.

New tank installed.

We were then left with a tore up yard, as one might say here in Texas. See all those rocks stacked up? They came from the beds...had to be put back.

We got dirt hauled in, then heard it was going to rain. If we didn't get the yard back together ASAP it was going to turn into the world's largest mud pie.

What a mess!

Five days later, with outside help on only one day, the yard is back together. We are aching, sore and tired. But we got it done before the rains came, which they did.

All the dirt piles are spread out, the plant bed reset with rocks.

This is where the tree was...You can see the difference between the picture with wheelbarrow and this one.

If you don't see me around much the rest of this week, I hope you'll understand why. All that work...weren't so easy to do, not like when I was younger.

I'm recuperating.

Have you done anything lately that required an extended amount of hard physical labor?

Catherineberg, St. John

2012-01-23T04:00:00.184-06:00

Last Monday I mentioned the slave revolt of 1733. Besides the hardship of slavery there were several other causes for the up-rising. A drought was followed by a hurricane. Then came a plague of insects. These natural disasters destroyed food crops and caused famine. The slaves, hungry and restless, began running away to the bush. (They were called maroons.) In a vain attempt to keep them from running away the Danes imposed a severe slave code with punishments that included torture, branding, whipping and even death.

Among the slaves were a large group from the war-like nation of Akwamu in present day Guinea. It was they who organized the rebellion, using drums to communicate. In the early morning hours of November 23rd, they killed six of the seven soldiers garrisoned at the fort at Coral Bay. The one surviving soldier managed to escape to St. Thomas to spread the word.

From the fort they swept through the rest of Coral Bay and on into the interior of the island, killing whites as they went. They did not destroy the plantations as their ultimate goal was to operate them.

Which brings us, finally to Catherineberg. Built around 1718 it was one first sugar plantations on the island. It is here that the Akwamu warriors headquartered themselves.

This picture is by Sydney and Russell Poore. The rest are mine.

It's the only windmill on the island (that I know of) that has rooms beneath it.

A wonderful book that tells the full story of the revolt of 1733 is Night of the Silent Drum, by John Lorenzo Anderson. John and his wife Adrienne, first came to St. John on their honeymoon in 1935. They stayed at my grandmother's guest house at Trunk Bay. John was so taken by the history of the revolt that he spent the next 40 years researching it. He learned to read nine languages in 18th century handwriting and traveled widely to gain access to archival documents. He and Adrienne (a children's book illustrator) came to St. John every year and were close family friends. In fact, it was Adrienne who gave me my very first drawing lesson when I was about seven years old.

Alternatives for Actually

2012-01-19T04:00:00.041-06:00

Alternatives is a recurring post in which I give synonyms for an over used word. Click on the tab above for a "complete" list of over used words.

Today's word is:

Actually, I don't think its possible to eliminate all "ly" adverbs from our writing.

However, we can use ones that are not so common. Some of these come in through the back door, so to speak. Which word you choose all depends on the context in which you use it.

Personally, (ah hem) I've long been rather fond of indubitably. I like how it sort of skips over my teeth and tongue and tumbles out my lips as if it's about to fall flat on it's face.

Here are your alternatives.

absolutely, accurately, admittedly, almost, as a matter of fact

certainly, considerably

de facto

essentially, exactly, existing

forsooth, frankly

genuinely

honestly

immanently, importantly, in (all) actuality, in effect, in fact, in point of fact, in reality, in truth, indeed, indisputably, indubitably

just

literally

materially, meaningfully

nearly

physically, positively, practically, precisely

real, realistically, really, right

sharp, significantly, simply, smack-dab, squarely, substantially

tangibly, to be sure, truly

undoubtedly, unquestionably

verily, veritable, virtually

"Actually, my dear, I don't give a damn."
"Verily, my dear, I don't give a damn."
"Realistically, my dear, I don't give a damn."
"Admittedly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

None of these work. But this one does.

Got an over used word? Let me know. If it's not already on my list, I'll add it and will *eventually* get around to finding the alternatives.

Annaberg, St. John

2012-01-16T04:00:00.209-06:00

Between 1717 and 1718 the Danes colonized St. John and the first 20 planters began to grow sugarcane, cotton and other crops. By 1731, a mere 14 years later, Annaberg, which means Anna's Hill, was under cultivation and there were over 100 other plantations on the island. There were approximately 200 whites and 1000 black slaves on the island. In 1733, there was a bloody revolt and the slaves held the island for six months. Rather than surrender, those who had not been captured, committed suicide.

By the 1800's Annaberg was one of St. John's largest producers of sugar.

Annaberg in the 1930's.

The windmill, used to crush sugarcane, is one of the tallest in the islands. It was built sometime in the 1820s or 30s. When I was kid, a family lived in it. They had built a second floor out of wood. Now-a-days the only things that live in it are the native wild honey bees.

During times when the wind was slack, they used the horse mill, which you can see in the older picture above. It is the large circular structure in the front left.

This is the boiling house, or factory building, where the sugarcane juice was boiled down.Sugar, molasses and rum were made from cane.

In the left foreground is an oven still used for demonstrations in baking bread.

See the hillside behind the building? Imagine it completely cleared and terraced. All the work, done by slaves.

The oven.

Inside the factory building were big iron vats where the juice was boiled. One of the vats is still in place. The fires beneath the vats were kept stoked from the other side of the wall.

This is where the fires were.

The sugar put into a cup of tea by a European lady, the molasses used by English cooks, the rum sipped by Aristocratic gentlemen, came from places like Annaberg.

One of the most interesting aspects of Annaberg is the little "dungeon." It's not a dark, dank hole, just a very small room built off behind the windmill. It has a window through which a good breeze usually blows. But on its plastered walls, are etchings, probably carved into the plaster by slaves.

This one shows how Annaberg may once have looked. The buildings have wooden second stories.

This barely visible etching, is of a sailing ship. Perhaps it's a trade ship, perhaps it's like one that brought slaves to the islands. It looks to me like that's a British Union Jack flying from the rigging.

What these drawings do for me is bring home with clarity that once a real live person was in that space.

In the 1950s a pair of manacles still hung from the wall. I saw them.

Below the horse mill, there are also remnants of slave huts. Besides working the plantation all day, slaves had to provide some portion of their own food on land set aside for them to cultivate.

It was thankless, back-breaking work.

Yet behind it all was the view of the ocean, the sky and the British Virgin Islands.

I have long wondered, sweating in the heat of a summer's day, if a slave did not look out across Sir Francis Drake Channel and breathe in the beauty.

When England freed its slaves, I just know, those still in bondage at Annaberg looked with longing across this channel at the island of Tortola.

Some left behind families and risked their lives to escape to freedom.

Happy Martin Luther King Day.

Titles

2012-01-12T04:00:00.194-06:00

"Titles" is a recurring blog post in which we play with a single word and turn it into, what else, titles! Afterwards the object is to pick one of them and write a little something.

Ray Bradbury, in his book Zen in the Art of Writing, (an excellent book by the way) explained that he wrote long lists of nouns "that I simply flung forth on paper, trusting my subconscious to give bread, as it were, to the birds."

Learning while sitting at the feet of the master, I began to do the same, making lists of nouns and turning them into titles. They can be as simple as, The Wall, or more complicated as in The Wall Came Tumbling Down. It's great fun. Today's word is....

"Hi!"

"Cap't, there be whales here!"

My favorite Star Trek movie is The Journey Home. Not only does it have some really funny moments, it's about bringing whales from the past, back to present day earth, which no longer has them. What could be more endearing than that?

Let's make some titles!

Unfortunately Whales on Stilts is already taken, so we'll have to think of something else.

The Bubble Net Whale
Whale You Were Away
What the Heck is Whaling You?
Even Whales Dream of Flying
The Whale and the Walrus
The Whales of Middle Sea
If I Were a Whale I'd Be Big
Whales Don't Live Here Anymore
Say "Whale" Enough Times and it Starts to Sound Funny
Whales and Wales Are Not the Same
How Many Whales Does it Take to Screw in a Light Bulb?
I Whale Always Remember You
A Whale by Any Other Name is Still a Whale
Whalesong

I could go on and on, but I'll stop. Now, pick one of these titles OR make up one of your own and write a little something: a poem, a bit of flash fiction of 100 to 200 words, a short story, a picture book...a novel. I would love it if you shared.

Here's my contribution.

Even Whales Dream of Flying

In their dreams whales dream of flying
weightless
across the sky.

When they break through the water's surface
and push their giant bodies
towards the sunlight and the stars
there is a moment
when they feel the pull of gravity.
It tugs against their skin,
tugs against the blood and bone of who
they Are.

They shed the weight of
millions of years,
and sing
as they swim on air currents among
the clouds
or float along
the Milk Way
or siphon stardust
through baleen.

In their dreams
whales dream
that they can fly....

Got a title, bit of flash fiction, or a poem? Do share!

Hassel Island

2012-01-09T04:00:00.195-06:00

What kind of history could a 135 acre island possible have? In this picture it's the little island at right center, in front of the other little island (which is Water Island) Doesn't look like much, does it? In fact, until 1865 it wasn't an island at all, it was a peninsula. At that time the Danes cut through and dredged the low lying area called Haulover, which you can see at the far right that connected it to St. Thomas thus improving water circulation in the harbor proper.

One source claims that in 1607 Captain John Smith, founder of Jamestown, stopped at St. Thomas to collect water, wood and turtles. But I can't confirm that.

In 1671 Denmark successfully colonized St. Thomas and by 1680 the port of Charlotte Amalie was a thriving free trade hub. During the American Revolution, powder, arms and shot were sent to the Continental Army by way of St. Thomas.

To protect the harbor Prince Frederik's Battery was built in 1788. It sits right on a point of land at the entrance to the harbor. During the Napoleonic Wars Denmark was friends with the "Little General." St. Thomas was such an important port that the British occupied Hassel Island, once between 1801-02 and again between 1806-15. Both times they expanded or build new batteries and forts. During the British occupation Prince Frederik's Battery acquired its present name, Fort Willoughby.

Ft. Willoughby from the sea.

Ft. Willoughby looking towards the docks.

Iron rings, embedded in the stonework, were used to anchor cannons.

My friend, Margaret, waving. Hi Margaret!

I love the brick and stone work.

The British built the Garrison House which was also used for storing munitions. It's construction is unique.

It's the only building I know of whose wooden windows are covered in copper.

Margaret and me in front of the Garrison House.

Between 1840-70 The Royal Mail Steam Packet Company selected St. Thomas to be its hub of operations and Hassle Island was the main office. Very like Atlanta being the hub for Delta. Coal was shipped to St. Thomas and steamships plying the waters between Europe, the United States, and South America had a convenient place to stop and refuel. Coal was also distributed to the U. S. from here.

Hassel Island also became a place where ships could be refit, serviced and otherwise overhauled. By 1844 St. Thomas Marine opened. In later years it was sold and became the Creque Marine Slipway. Ships were pulled out of the water using one of the longest steam-rail systems in the world.

A lot of hard work has gone into stabilizing and clearing away the brush from marina buildings.

Between 1915-32 the U. S. Navy used the island as a navel station. They also leased the marina and used it to service minesweepers and barges.

When I was growing up, there was a small hotel on the island called The Royal Mail Inn. It made for a pleasant evening to be ferried across the harbor and dine on the terrace with a view of the twinkling lights of the city reflected on the water. Royal Mail Inn is thought to be the inspiration for Herman Wouk's very funny novel, Don't Stop the Carnival, which he wrote during the time that he lived on St. Thomas.

In 1978 the National Park bought most of the island. Though the building were neglected for many long years, there is now a very concerted effort to preserve the history of this tiny speck of land.

If you are interested in further information or looking at other pictures, check out the St. Thomas Historical Trust.

Books Read in 2011

2012-01-05T04:00:00.007-06:00

I did well in 2011. I managed to read 50 books! I keep hoping to make it an even 52, one for each week of the year, but not yet. I'm just a bit too slow. But there's always this year right? You can tell from this list that I'm an eclectic reader.

***

1. Sick Puppy, Carl Hiaasen
2. Falls the Shadow, Sharon Penman
3. Wicked Lovely, Melissa Marr
4. Turtle in Paradise, Jennifer L. Holm
5. Matilda Bone, Karen Cushman
6. Save the Cat, Blake Snyder
7. Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, Renni Brown/Dave King
8. Keeper, Kathi Appelt
9. Alchemy and Meggy Swan, Karen Cushman
10. The Art of Happiness, The Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler M. D.
11. The Thief, Megan Whalen Turner
12. Dragonfly Pool, Eva Ibbotson
13.Wolven, Di Toft
14. Possession, Elana Johnson
15. Nightshade City, Hilary Wagner
16. Across the Universe, Beth Revis
17. The Hating Game, Talli Roland
18. The Great Gilly Hopkins, Katherine Patterson
19. Island of the Aunts, Eva Ibbotson
20. The Chaos, Rachel Ward
21. Dogsled Dreams, Terry Lynn Johnson
22. Light Beneath Ferns, Anne Spllen
23. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon, Grace Lin
24. Down Sand Mountain, Steven Watkins
25. Moon Over Manifest, Clare Vanderpool
26. Heart of a Samurai, Margi Preus
27. Like Sisters on the Homefront, Rita Williams-Garcia
28. Gregor the Overlander, Suzanne Collins
29. The Gawgon and the Boy, Lloyd Alexander
30. Seeing and Believing: How the telescope opened our eyes and minds to the heavens, Richard Panek
31. The Starry Rift, James Tiptree, Jr.
32. Double Whammy, Carl Hiaasen
33. Monstrous Regiment, Terry Pratchett
34. How the Irish Saved Civilization, Thomas Cahill
35. String Bridge, Jessica Bell
36. Dancing in the Shadows of Love, Judy Croome
37. The Headless Highwayman, Ian Irvine
38. The Grasping Goblin, Ian Irvine
39. The Desperate Dwarf, Ian Irvine
40. The Wall at the Edge of the World, Jim Aikin
41. Basket Case, Carl Hiaasen
42. The Female Frontier: A comparative View of Women on the Prairie and the Plains, Glenda Riley
43. Build a Man, Talli Roland
44. Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt

45. A Lady's Fate, Anne Gallagher
46. Getting Near to Baby, Audrey Couloumbis
47. Dogsong, Gary Paulsen
48. America's Hidden History: Untold Tales of the First Pilgrims, Fighting Women, and Forgotten Founders Who Shapes a Nation, Kenneth C. Davis
50. The Book of Dragons, Edith Nesbit

I have a few favorites for the year: Dancing in the Shadows of Love, Across the Universe, Nightshade City, Angela's Ashes, Moon Over Manifest, How the Irish Saved Civilization, Turtle in Paradise, Keeper, Light Beneath Ferns, Dogsong. I could name many others.

What about you? Read any good books in 2011? Sure you did. Do share! Which one(s) stands out as a favorite?

Happy New Year 2012!

2012-01-02T04:00:00.014-06:00

A little inspiration to get us going.

A little joy to keep us inspired through this coming year.

Taking a Break

2011-12-12T04:00:00.020-06:00

Yup, I'm taking the rest of December off.

It's been a kind of strange and stressful year. Friends dying, friends diagnosed with terminal illnesses, friends getting sick and/or having surgeries. Not to mention (though I will) the extreme heat of the past summer and the extreme drought which still hasn't been broken. All of it has taken a toll. I've been uninspired, haven't hardly written a thing. Haven't submitted.

I need to get organized. Set some goals. Clear my head. Meditate on a time when it was still green in Texas.

Have a wonderful Christmas and a fabulous New Year.

See you in 2012.

Random Thought Thursday

2011-12-08T04:00:00.095-06:00

The Christmas That Almost Wasn't

I was going to devote the month of December to sharing with you, The Christmas That Almost Wasn't,
by Ogden Nash which is delightfully illustrated by his daughter Linell Nash. It is a wonderful story-poem about Nicholas Knock who must save Christmas from Good King Oldwin's evil nephew, Evilard.

However, my good friend Vijaya, over at Reading, Writing, Ruminating reminded me about a little something called copyright.

Even though I cannot share the story with you as I wanted to, I can promote it. I can tell you, it is without a doubt one of the best little Christmas stories out there. It is a story that we read nearly every year and became one of our family traditions. I can tell you it is out of print and that it ought to be reprinted. I can tell you that I consider it as much a classic as A Christmas Carol. And I can tell you that Amazon has 13 used copies starting as low as $2.25 (plus S&H.)

If you want to treat yourself and your family to a truly delightful story, one that is full of humor, with rhymes that will sing in your head long after you put it down, then give the gift of The Christmas That Almost Wasn't.

A little bit about Ogden Nash. He was born in Rye, New York in 1902. He went to Harvard but dropped out after a year. He worked several jobs before he became an editor at Doubleday which is when he began writing humorous light verse.
One of his most famous is:

Candy
Is dandy,
But liquor
Is quicker.

To which he added I believe around 1968.

Pot is not.

There is also this one:

The Lord in His wisdom made the fly,
And then forgot to tell us why.

Ogden Nash died of Crohn's disease (which I have) in May of 1971.

You can find some of his poems here.

A Day That Will Live in Infamy

2011-12-07T09:08:00.001-06:00

On this day in 1941, the United States was drawn into World War II with the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese.

Three of my uncles were in the Pacific War. One was a Marine, two were in the Navy. My father's mother, Nana, told a story about having a dream. She saw her son, my uncle, on a ship that was under attack (this was after Pearl Harbor.) She awoke yelling, "JUMP, JUMP!" She found out later he had been on a ship that had been attacked and that he had jumped into the ocean.

He was one of the ones who survived.

The Greatest Generation is growing fewer and fewer in number. Let us not forget those who lived, worked, fought, loved and died through, not only the Great Depression, but also World War II. Certainly they made it possible for me and you to have a very easy life. And I am extremely glad we are at peace with Japan and have come to reap the benefits of their many innovations.

Do you have any family history about World War II?

Well I Never....AND A BOOK REVIEW!!!!

2011-12-01T04:00:00.070-06:00

The funny and talented Vicki Rocho over at Rambles and Randomness has a bloghop going on today, with prizes! All we have to do is finish this sentence.

thought I'd be reading romances on a Kindle. But I am, so there.

Which leads right into...
Talli Roland's new book BUILD A MAN.

About the book:

How far would you go to create the perfect partner?

Slave to the rich, rude and deluded, cosmetic surgery receptionist Serenity Holland longs for the day she's a high-flying tabloid reporter. Unfortunately, every pitch she sends out disappears like her clients' liposuctioned fat, never to be seen again. Then she meets Jeremy Ritchie -- the hang-dog man determined to be Britain's Most Eligible Bachelor by making himself over from head to toe and everything in between -- giving Serenity a story no editor could resist.

With London's biggest tabloid on board and her very own column tracking Jeremy's progress from dud to dude, Serenity is determined to be a success, even going undercover to gain intimate access to Jeremy's life. But when Jeremy's surgery goes drastically wrong and Serenity is ordered to cover all the car-crash goriness, she must decide how far she really will go for her dream job.

In a way this book is timely, what with Rupert Murdock and the British tabloid being under fire for the extreme tactics they have used to get a juicy story. After all, this is about a young woman who so wants to be a tabloid writer she makes some extreme decisions that prick at her conscious and make her moral compass spin. But that's were the similarity ends.

With the first sentence, If I see another set of boobs I'm going to lose it. I knew I was in for ride. I do enjoy Talli's humor. If fact I asked her if she was as funny in real life as she is on the written page. She said she isn't, but somehow I have a hard time believing that. (Perhaps a little wine therapy would help?) Just take a look at some of these descriptions:

Prancing over to the leather chairs, she crosses her PVC-covered legs and grabs a magazine...

Or, My hair is plastered to my head, mascara and kohl have seeped down my eye sockets like Alice Cooper gone wrong.

Or, I'm more Darth Vader than the female equivalent of Dr. Phil.

Or, Thoughts swim around my head like caffeinated goldfish. (What an image! I can so see/feel this.)

Yet within the humor is a sweet story. At first Serenity bothered me. I wasn't sure I liked her. How could someone apparently so smart be so ignorant and make sure terrible choices? But as she got more and more tangled up in the threads of her bad decisions I began to feel a bit sorry for her and to wonder, "How is she going to get out this mess?" That, and liking Jeremy (I definitely wanted to know what happened to him!) kept pulling me along.

What I also very much enjoy about Talli's stories is that it's not all about sex. There is the occasional well placed adult expletive, there is sexual tension (or lack there-of) but there is no nudity and kissing is left for the appropriate moment. In this day and age when I often feel bombarded, it's a relief to read a light-hearted, humorous love story.

Nice job Talli!

And, to let you know just how much I enjoy your books, I've gone and bought Watching Willow Watts!

New Book in Town

2011-11-28T04:00:00.060-06:00

Introducing Bish's new toy. I never thought it would happen. But it did. I never thought I'd want to, let alone, enjoy reading off of an electronic devise the size of a paper back. But I do. Yup, I got the Kindle Touch with free 3G. The Kindle Fire would have been nice...color and moving pictures and all, but it was just a tad out of my price range. As it is, with the Touch, I can listen to audio books and/or music!

As promised, the first book I bought and downloaded was Anne Gallagher's.

The second book I downloaded was Talli Roland's, which she sent me as I promised to review it. So I'm busy reading it.

The third book I downloaded was J. L Campbell's which I won. I'm looking forward to reading a story that takes place in Jamaica. Thank you Joy!

Rather odd, me, a writer for children, a person who predominately reads middle grade books, downloading three adult romances! What a hoot.

That said, some time ago I won a copy of Shana Norris' book. Don't you just love the cover?

So there you have it. Proof that old book dogs can learn new tricks.

Do you have an e-reader? Do you like it? If you don't have one, do you want to get one?

Thankful Things

2011-11-24T04:00:00.060-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving.

Of course I am thankful for my husband, Stan, and my sister, Erva and for the air I breathe.

But I'm also VERY thankful for washing dishes.

Washing dishes means:
I have food that makes them dirty
I have hands to wash them with
I have running hot and cold water to wash them in
I have money to pay the water and electric bill and buy the soap
I have a sink to wash them in
I have a window to look out of when I wash the dishes
I have a house with a window

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury,pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console;

to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen

What are you thankful for?

Thanksgiving 1969 - Part Two

2011-11-22T04:00:00.036-06:00

So it's right around Thanksgiving, we've had a big rain and Ethel is planning a big party.

Now the road into Lillie Maho was narrow, steep, rocky and required four wheel drive/low transfer, even on a good day. After most any kind rain it turned into a slick, muddy track that was near impossible to traverse. But we had to get out. We had a business to run, not to mention the fact that my sister, Erva, had to get to her job. So first thing in the morning Mom and Erva went over the hill and cleared the road of the big rocks the hillside has thrown up, and the tree limbs that have blown down. They also filled in, with rocks, the deep ruts the rain had made. Inotherwords, they made the road passable.

At that time there were no telephones out our way. But we did have two-way radio. Telephone calls could be patched in and we could talk to people anywhere in the world. The only draw-back is that anyone who had a radio could hear your conversation.

Thus is was that while Mom was working in the office she overheard a radio phone call between Ethel and a dinner guest who was concerned about getting to her place. After all there'd been a big rain and some roads were washed out. Was the road into Maho passable?

To which Ethel replied, "Well, those people down there got out."

That infuriated Mom. Those people indeed! Like we were lepers or something. Like we were nobodies or were of some inferior class of people whose name was never to be mentioned, untouchables. She stewed and fumed over it all day. By the time Erva got home from work Mom was ready, she had a plan. The Original Rotten Kid was in full swing.

"Come on, kids!" she said. Me, Erva and her best friend Gene, piled into the jeep. Mom wrestled with the steering wheel and we skidded and skated our way over the hill until we got to the "main" road though it too was just another dirt track.

Then we turned around and headed back over the hill into Maho. While Mom drove, Erva, Gene and I followed behind unfilling the ruts, and putting back every bolder and tree limb that had been removed. Inotherwords, we made the road impassible. It was a wonderfully muddy job.

It meant that Ethel's guests would be met with barriers and would have to decide if they wanted to clear the road and get muddy, park their jeep and walk slip/sliding over the hill and get muddy, or turn around and go home.

If I recall, the next day there were noises on the squawk box (that's what we called the radio/telephone) about how difficult it had been to get to the party and Ethel was furious not understanding how it could have happened because she was sure "those people" had gotten out.

Oh we were terrible and still laugh about it to this day!

Grammy, (Erva Hartwell Boulon Thorp) February, 1963 at the gates to Ethel McCully's house which Ethel called, "Island Fancy."

Grammy was a bit Art Deco in her tastes. She wore large jewelry and liked bright clothes as can easily been seen here. I don't know of too many women who could wear a solid red jumpsuit (and shoes) and pull it off, but it goes so well with her beautiful silver hair.

Thanksgiving 1969 - Part One

2011-11-21T04:00:00.119-06:00

Directly up the hill from our guest house at Lillie Maho, lived a woman named Ethel McCully. She was a legend in her own mind, someone who acted as if she had been on the island longer than any other white person. This of course was hardly true. She built her home in the early '50s whereas my grandparents had been on St. John since the 1920s. None the less, Ethel made herself out to be quite the character, which wasn't difficult since she'd been an ambulance driver during World War I and was the author of three mystery novels. She was a tiny little old woman, rather wrinkly and wizened, who clung too long to trying to look young. The hibiscus she wore in her wig was an idea she stole from my grandmother. (Grammy's hair was all her own.) Her bright red lipstick tended to bleed around the edges of her lips and her heavily rouged cheeks made her look somewhat clownish.

Photo by Peter Ernst

These eccentricities were not annoying, but her peacocks were. She had anywhere from six to twelve of the birds. Large males, with magnificent tails, strutted around accompanied by an entourage of peahens. She let them wander in and out of her house where they left presents on her tiled floors. But worse, they often flew down the hill and landed our roofs where they pooped and were a general nuisance. And one must remember we collected rainwater off our roofs for drinking, cooking and bathing. Equally, if not more, annoying was the noise they made. Often times in movies that have a tropical setting, or ladies in long dresses are strolling through an English garden, one can hear a peacock yelling in the distant background. I suppose someone thinks it's romantic, shades of India and Rudyard Kipling don't you know. But let me tell you, when they live right next to you, their yelling is anything but romantic. It is a loud, ugly noise that sounds like a woman screaming, "HELP!"

When asked if I can imitate an animal, I say yes, I can scream just like a peacock! (It's true.)

We had a touchy relationship with Ethel. She came down quite often to have cocktails at our open bar and would insinuate herself among our guests, playing the hostess, acting like the queen bee, and generally stomping all over our territory. She was a nosy busybody we put up with and didn't particularly like.

Every Thanksgiving Ethel held a big dinner party to which she invited all the local color. We, of course were never invited. But that didn't bother us because we had guests for whom we put on a big lovely spread.

Then, in 1969 a few days before the Big Day, it rained, and it rained, and it rained some more and we had a flood.

Come back tomorrow for part two!

Origins - Happy as a Clam

2011-11-17T04:00:00.044-06:00

Origins is a recurring past in which I delve into the history of a word or phrase.

Today's phrase is:

Happy as a clam.

Have you ever met a happy clam? If you have, just how happy was it? And how did you know it was happy? Was it smiling at you?

Actually...they do kind of look like they're smiling, which is one reason given for the phrase. But the truth is probably simpler. Most everywhere I looked suggested that "happy as a clam" is only the first part of a longer phrase, "happy as a clam at high water." And why would a clam be happy at high water? It would be safer from predators and people who might want to eat them.

Yeah, if I were a clam I'd be happy at high tide too. It is an American idiom.

In 1840 an American poet by the name of John Godfrey Saxe wrote this "Sonnet to a Clam."

Inglorious friend! most confident I am
Thy life is one of very little ease;
Albeit men mock thee with their similes
And prate of being "happy as a clam!"
What though thy shell protects thy fragile head
From the sharp bailiffs of the briny sea?
Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to thee,
While rakes are free to desecrate thy bed,
And bear thee off -- as foemen take their spoil --
Far from thy friends and family to roam;
Forced, like a Hessian, from they native home,
To meet destruction in a foreign broil!
Though thou art tender yet thy humble bard
Declares, O clam! thy case is shocking hard!

(I have to laugh. "Forced, like a Hessian from thy native home?" )

A second recorded mention of it is from the Pennsylvania newspaper The Adams Sentinel, from August 1844: "Crispin was soon hammering and whistling away as happy as a clam at high water."

So there you have it. Are you happy now? If not, try these phrases on for size.
Happy as:
a lark
a pig in slop/in mud
the day is long
a dog with two tails
a kid in a candy store
a bug in a rug
a monkey with a peanut machine
a fox in a hen house

Can you think of any others?

Seasons

2011-11-14T04:00:00.075-06:00

Visitors to the islands often wonder about seasons. Do seasons exist in the tropics? Some even think there are no seasons at all. Once a National Park Ranger (this was a long time ago before they were really trained) used to tell tourists the trees had no rings because there were no seasons.

Of course there are seasons. Of course the trees have rings.

There is:
Tourist season and getting ready for tourist season.
Hurricane season and getting ready for hurricane season.
Summer and getting ready for summer.
The dry season (winter) and the wet season (summer).

I jest, of course, though the last is true. There is a dry and wet season.

But there is a spring, summer, fall and winter as well.

Each is marked by what plants and trees are blooming or bearing fruit. There are wind and ocean currents and temperatures that are expressed at different times of the year. In summer the ocean is mostly flat calm. In winter we get what are called ground-seas, it is the wave action from ferocious north Atlantic storms. Those waves travel all the way south to hit the rocky shoreline sending spay hundreds of feet into the air. Winter is a good time to go body surfing.

I love the subtlety of the tropical seasons. It's not so in your face as it is in more northern climes.

One has to be, perhaps, more aware and sensitive to notice changes. Perhaps it is what helped to make me an observer and a writer.

Do you prefer subtlety in writing? Or do you like it in your face?

Fall

2011-11-12T04:00:00.004-06:00

Fall has pried open Summer's oven door and blown some cool air our way. It is a nice reprieve from the hottest summer on record. A couple of freezes is all that it's taken to tell the trees to get undressed and ready for bed.

A river runs through it. Bald cypress getting ready to shed their needles.

Tranquility Park.

Pistache tree.

Spanish Oak.

We are still in desperate need of rain. It's looks like winter is going to be dry. Which means that come spring what trees have survived will be under even more stress. We are in need of over a foot of the wet stuff just to catch up to normal levels, but that alone isn't enough to bring back lake and river levels to where they need to be. Pray for rain for Texas.

STRING BRIDGE Chart Rush!

2011-11-11T04:00:00.005-06:00

Today is THE day to help Jessica Bell's debut, STRING BRIDGE, hit
the bestseller list on Amazon, and receive the all-original soundtrack, Melody Hill: On the Other Side, written and performed by the author herself, for free!

All you have to do is
purchase the book today (paperback, or eBook), November 11th, and
then email the receipt to:

jessica.carmen.bell(at)gmail(dot)com

She will
then email you a link to download the album at no extra cost!

To purchase the paperback:

Amazon USA

To purchase the eBook:

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

To listen to samples of the soundtrack, visit iTunes.

If you are
not familiar with String Bridge,
check out the book trailer:

Rave Reviews for String Bridge:

“Jessica Bell’s STRING BRIDGE strummed the fret of my
veins, thrummed my blood into a mad rush, played me taut until the final page,
yet with echoes still reverberating. A rhythmic debut with metrical tones of
heavied dark, fleeting prisms of light, and finally, a burst of joy—just as
with any good song, my hopeful heartbeat kept tempo with Bell’s narrative.” ~ Kathryn Magendie, author of Sweetie and Publishing Editor of Rose & Thorn Journal

“Poet and
musician Jessica Bell's debut novel String Bridge is a rich exploration of desire, guilt, and the
difficult balancing act of the modern woman. The writing is lyrical throughout,
seamlessly integrating setting, character and plot in a musical structure that
allows the reader to identify with Melody's growing insecurity as her world
begins to unravel … String Bridge is
a powerful debut from a promising writer, full of music, metaphor, and just a
hint of magic.” ~ Magdalena Ball, author of Repulsion
Thrust and Sleep Before Evening

“Jessica Bell is a brilliant writer
of great skill and depth. She doesn't pull back from the difficult
scenes, from conflict, pain, intensity. She puts it all out there, no holds
barred, no holding back. She knows how to craft a scene, how to develop
character, how to create suspense. This is an absolutely brilliant debut novel.
I look forward to reading her
next novel, and next and next.” ~ Karen Jones
Gowen, author of Farm Girl, Uncut Diamonds and House of Diamonds

Connect with Jessica:

String Bridge: http://www.stringbridge.com/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/jessica_bell

Website: http://www.jessicacbell.com/

Blog: http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/author.jessica.bell

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/MsBessieBell

Publisher: http://www.luckypress.com

Please TWEET and/or FACEBOOK this post using #StringBridge!

Alternatives for A lot and Six Impossible Things

2011-11-10T04:00:00.028-06:00

Alternatives is a recurring post in which I give synonyms for an over used word. Click on the tab above for a "complete" list of over used words.

Today's word is:

You know you use a lot, a lot, don't you. Admit it. A lot of us have the same problem. Help is on the way. There are a lot of alternatives. If you can think of any others, please feel free to leave them in the comments.

a good deal, a whole heap, abundance/abundant, acres, aggregation, amass, amassment, ample, assemblage, bank, batch, bountiful, bulk, bunch, bundle, clump, cluster, collection, copious, copious amount(s), cast of thousands, endless, enormous amount, galore, gobs, great, heaps, hoard, infinite, legion(s), loads, lump, many, mass, masses, million(s), mountain(s), much, myriad, numerous, often, oodles, plenty, profuse/profusion, reams, scads, several, slathers, slew, stack, surplus, thousands, tons, trillion(s), very much, volume, wad, whole bunch

And now, for your amusement, in which I think of Six Impossible Things before breakfast.

1. Going fishing with my dad. It's his birthday today. Were he alive he'd be 95. That's us in our boat the FDO (Father's Day Off.) He's all greasy after a long day working at our Mobil gas station. I thought he was the handsomest man alive.

2. Catching a bullet with my teeth

3. Understanding infinity

4. Discovering a new color

5. Watching the pyramids being built

6. Seeing a real life brontosaurus

Your turn. Tell me something impossible.

Of Plastic and Sea Turtles

2011-11-07T04:00:00.051-06:00

If you have read my blog for any length of time you may know that I really hate plastic. I've written about it (click here) quite a bit.

The most disturbing aspect of plastic is that it isn't biodegradable, it simply breaks down into smaller and smaller pieces. That may not seem like such a bad thing until you realize that smallness only makes it easier for it to get into the food chain. And plastic having no nutritional value, will and does kill those creatures that ingest it. Think of krill eating plastic, then think of whales or seals or penguins or squid or fish eating krill. That is, if the krill survive eating the plastic. When the krill die off (as I fear they might) so will whales and all the other sea creatures that depend on them for food.

Or think of sea turtles eating plastic.

Stomach contents of a juvenile sea turtle. (Credit and article here.)

The remains of an albatross chick

A mute swan's nest

Most troubling are the garbage patches in the oceans, particularly the one in the Pacific.

Research just a little and you can get really depressed. I don't believe climate change is nearly has terrible as the accumulation of plastic in our environment. The earth has gone through many, many climate changes and has survived. She is quite capable of evolving whole new ecosystems and new species. But the earth has no way to battle against plastic, a man-made substance that will kill us all. Unless, of course, the earth is able to evolve species that can eat and survive on plastic.

And then there are those who think of a way to recycle a plastic bottle that is really en-LIGHT-ning and, for a brief moment, I have hope. But even this does not take care of the problem of plastic.

If you want to help save our planet, save it from plastic. Reduce, reuse and recycle, recycle, recycle. Stop using plastic bags and drinking bottled water and, dare I say it? stop drinking sodas.

In addition I'm calling on all of you to sign a petition to stop the legal harvesting of sea turtles in the British Virgin Islands. It seems pretty ridiculous in this day age to be killing an endangered species.

Below is the plea and the link to the petition.

"The British Virgin Islands has a Sea Turtle Hunting season December 1st through March 31st.
They are legally allowed to harvest Hawksbill and Green Sea Turtles, both endangered animals.
Hawksbill turtles (must be 15+inches carapace length) and Green turtles (24 +inches carapace length) but these sizes still put them in the late juvenile / sub-adult age and the fact they do not have a size limit is even worse since those are the ones probably nesting here but live elsewhere.
There is a moratorium on loggerhead turtles, leatherback turtles, & all sea turtle eggs.

So I signed a petition to Ralph T. O'Neal, Premier of the British Virgin Islands, which says:

""Stop the legal harvesting of endangered sea turtles in the British Virgin Islands""

Will you sign the petition too? Click here to add your name:

http://signon.org/sign/end-sea-turtle-hunting?source=s.em.mt&r_by=1520101 "

I hope you'll sign up. What have you done to reduce the use of plastic in your home?

Texas, My Texas

2011-11-05T04:00:00.034-05:00

There's just something about Texas.

When Wyman Meinzer graduated from Texas Tech, he moved back to a ranch near Benjamin so he could begin his photography.

He lived in a dugout for a few months, to be in the middle of the roadrunners, coyotes, and snakes.

He is now the Texas State Photographer.

Wyman Meinzer's West Texas from Wyman Meinzer on Vimeo.

STRING BRIDGE: A Review

2011-11-03T04:00:00.021-05:00

About Jessica Bell:

Jessica Bell is a literary women's fiction author, poet and singer/songwriter who grew up in Melbourne, Australia, to two gothic rock musicians who had successful independent careers during the '80s and early '90s.

She spent much of her childhood travelling to and from Australia to Europe, experiencing two entirely different worlds, yet feeling equally at home in both environments. She currently lives in Athens, Greece and works as a freelance writer/editor for English Language Teaching publishers worldwide, such as HarperCollins, Pearson Education and Macmillan Education.

In addition to String Bridge, Jessica has published a book of poetry called Twisted Velvet Chains. A full list of poems and short stories published in various anthologies and literary magazines can be found under Published Works & Awards, on her website.

From September 2012 Jessica will be hosting the Homeric Writers' Retreat & Workshop on theGreek island of Ithaca, home of Odysseus.

From the back cover: Greek cuisine, smog and domestic drudgery was not the life Australian musician, Melody, was expecting when she married a Greek music promoter and settled in Athens, Greece. Keen to play in her own shoes, though, Melody trades her guitar for a 'proper' career and her music for motherhood. That is, until she can bear it no longer and plots a return to the stage -- and the person she used to be. However, the obstacles she faces along the way are nothing compared to the tragedy that awaits, and she realizes she's been seeking fulfillment in the wrong place.

My review:

Melody's life is a labyrinth. Just as she thinks she understands something, or has things figured out, she comes to a dead-end or another branch in the road and has to make yet another decision about what she should do.

There is her husband, whom she is not convinced is being faithful, and of whom she is somewhat afraid. There is her dominating mother (who abused Melody as a child) and wimpy father. There is the reappearance of an old lover and the fantasy of a cheating with someone else entirely. There is her job and the possibility of promotion and relocating to England. There is her strong desire to return to playing music. But most importantly, there is her young daughter. And, at times, she fears she may be going crazy.

Everywhere Melody turns, her own wants and needs seem to be pushed aside by the wants and needs of others. Suffice it to say, as the pressure mounts, Melody will have to make choices. The question is, will they be the right ones?

There will be no spoilers here. From the first paragraph I was drawn in.

"If music were the wind, I would live in a hurricane. If it were a mother, I would sleep in her soothing womb. If I were music, I would simply be me, shrouding my existence in a monsoon. But I am not music, even though my name, Melody, suggests I could be. The closest I get to be 'being' music, is playing it, living it, embracing it as if it were the organ most vital to survival. I might say it was my heart. But no...I can't give it a name, because it's more like a sixth sense."

This was, at times, a hard book to read because Jessica Bell did not let up on the pressure. Just when I thought there might be a bit of breathing space for Melody, that things were about to work for her instead of against her, here came another dead-end, another turn in the labyrinth of her life, leading into yet another maze. As difficult as it could be, I was pulled along. I wanted, needed, to know what was going to happen to Melody. And I did find out.

Also available is this sound track, that accompanies String Bridge and can be bought separately.

Here are the links.

eBook

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/String-Bridge ebook/dp/B005Y48DF6/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1319369262&sr=1-1

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/String-Bridge-ebook/dp/B005Y48DF6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1319370801&sr=8-1

Paperback:

Amazon.com: (Coming soon)

Amazon UK: (Coming soon)

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/string-bridge-jessica-bell/1030101696

Soundtrack:

iTunes: http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?playlistId=465313522

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Melody-Hill-Other-Side/dp/B005P7ARNS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1317118328&sr=8-1

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Melody-Hill-Other-Side/dp/B005P7G02A/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1317118484&sr=8-1

Jessica's links:

String Bridge Website: http://www.stringbridge.com/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11502954-string-bridge

String Bridge Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rv-hRMA0kqQ
String Bridge Merchandise: http://www.cafepress.com/janicephelps/8155170
website: http://www.jessicacbell.com/
blog: http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/
facebook: http://www.facebook.com/author.jessica.bell
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/MsBessieBell
retreat & workshop site: http://hwrw.blogspot.com/

STRING BRIDGE

2011-11-01T04:00:00.048-05:00

It's here at last!

Jessica Bell's blow out introduction of her book STRING BRIDGE.

COME BACK WEDNESDAY, THE 3RD, at which time I'll give my own humble review of her book, STRING BRIDGE.

But this is no ordinary book, as there is an accompanying CD, Melody Hill: On the Other Side.

Here's Jessica's Bio:
Jessica Bell is a literary women's fiction author, poet and singer/songwriter who grew up inMelbourne, Australia, to two gothic rock musicians who had successful independent careers during the '80s and early '90s.

She spent much of her childhood travelling to and from Australia to Europe, experiencing two entirely different worlds, yet feeling equally at home in both environments. She currently lives in Athens, Greece and works as a freelance writer/editor for English Language Teaching publishers worldwide, such as HarperCollins, Pearson Education and Macmillan Education.

In addition to String Bridge, Jessica has published a book of poetry called Twisted Velvet Chains. A full list of poems and short stories published in various anthologies and literary magazines can be found under Published Works & Awards, on her website.

From September 2012 Jessica will be hosting the Homeric Writers' Retreat & Workshop on theGreek island of Ithaca, home of Odysseus.

And here are the links to her books, music and website.

eBook

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/String-Bridge-ebook/dp/B005Y48DF6/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1319369262&sr=1-1

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/String-Bridge-ebook/dp/B005Y48DF6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1319370801&sr=8-1

Paperback:

Amazon.com: (Coming soon)

Amazon UK: (Coming soon)

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/string-bridge-jessica-bell/1030101696

Soundtrack:

iTunes: http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?playlistId=465313522

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Melody-Hill-Other-Side/dp/B005P7ARNS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1317118328&sr=8-1

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Melody-Hill-Other-Side/dp/B005P7G02A/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1317118484&sr=8-1

My links:

String Bridge Website: http://www.stringbridge.com/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11502954-string-bridge

String Bridge Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rv-hRMA0kqQ
String Bridge Merchandise: http://www.cafepress.com/janicephelps/8155170
website: http://www.jessicacbell.com/
blog: http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/
facebook: http://www.facebook.com/author.jessica.bell
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/MsBessieBell
retreat & workshop site: http://hwrw.blogspot.com/

Costumes

2011-10-31T04:00:00.137-05:00

It being Halloween and all...

My mother was a gifted seamstress and liked to make costumes. After all she went to Pratt Institute in Brooklyn and studied costume design. She could make her own patterns and everything. I wish I had pictures of the costumes she made for my sister and me.

I think it all started with playing dress-up at Charlotte's. She'd let me dig through her closet and pull out clothes from late twenties and early thirties. She even let me wear her little tiara. What a princess! It doesn't matter that the gloves and shoes are too big!

In the islands Halloween isn't the only time to get into costume; there's Carnival on St. Thomas, and the 4th of July on St. John. Here I am one 4th as some kind of Hawaiian chick wrestling with Gene, my sister's best friend.

Back in 1969 I was in two Carnival parades, back to back, The Children's Parade on Friday and the Adult's Parade on Saturday. It was a crazy thing to do. Totally exhausting, particularly since I walked both days.

I think my school's floop (a combination of troop and float) was a tribute to literary characters. You can't see much... but that's me, as Snoopy, helping to carry a banner. I'm the one on the left. The banner reads "Happiness is an Elected Governor," celebrating our first elected governor.

The next day I was in the Adult's Parade. That year there was a song called "Mah Na Mah Na," a one hit wonder that was very popular. Even Red Skelton used it on his show. He and others dressed up as a moon creatures and played the tune on kazoos. That lead to me being in the Carnival troop from St. John. We were moon creatures dressed up in painted foam costumes playing kazoos. (Boy was it hot in that foam!)

The sign reads, " Legalize Extra-Orbital Activities."

Those round spots were price stickers. I had a spotted sun burn.

And here for your entertainment is a humorous rendition of "Mah Na Mah Na" done by The Muppets. Don't blame me if the tune gets stuck in your head.

Other memorable costumes include:
A mermaid with a full tail
Raggedy Ann complete with red yarn wig
A sailor on Columbus's ship
A witch (every girl has to be a witch at least once in her life)
Bugs Bunny, I made a paper mache carrot that I carried in a pistol holster strapped to my hip. My best friend, a head shorter than me, went as Yosemite Sam
A flapper
An ancient hippy (a ghost wearing love beads, medallion, peace and anti-war buttons)
A bag lady (I had every type of bag I could find pinned and/or taped to my clothes)
Miss Ellaneous, I wore a sash and a little crown and had paper clips, safety pins, pencils, pens, post-it notes, scissors, rulers etc. pinned to my person
A gypsy

I know there are more, but I that's all I can remember at the moment.

What about you, got a favorite costume memory? Happy Halloween.

And the Winner is...

2011-10-28T04:00:00.036-05:00

This, my first blogfest/bloghop has been fun. I send out my heartfelt thanks to those of you who participated by writing eerie, strange and spooky stories.

For those of you who were hiding in the graveyard, the winner will be getting this.

And who is the winner?

According to Random.org (what better place for me to go huh?) the winner is number 8 on my list of participants. (Of course I did not include myself.)

Number 8 is...drum roll please.

DONEA LEE at The Queen of Procrastination! YEAH!

Donea, please email me and send me your address and I will get those books and bookmark into the mail ASAP.

Oktoberfest Blogfest and Gift Give-Away!

2011-10-26T04:00:00.106-05:00

It's here, my first blogfest, in which we write, in 300 words or less, a true (or not) Halloween type story.

First I want to thank all of you who decided to join in. A list of those participating can be found below. I hope you'll hop around and read their stories.

On Friday, the 28th, one of them will win this: The ARC of Jessica Bell's new book STRING BRIDGE, (coming out the 1st of November) a tatted (by me) bookmark and DOGSLED DREAMS by Terry Lynn Johnson.

And now my contribution.

This is an edited excerpt from a MG I'm working on tentatively called THE BOWL AND STONE: A WEST INDIAN GHOST STORY. It is a fictionalized tale loosely base on a true story.

The Mysterious Moving Grave

The two tourist kids were so annoying we had to tell them the story of the Mysterious Moving Grave.

"Once there was this really mean man," said Gordie. "He was so mean nothing grew on his farm."

"He was married," I continued, "and had three kids. He drank a lot and blamed them for his not being able to grow anything."

"One night he got really drunk and went into a terrible rage. That's when he did it." Gordie paused for effect.

"Did what?" asked the thin, pale boy who looked like an albino salamander.

"That's when he killed his wife and kids," he answered.

"With a machete," I said.

"Hacked all four of 'em to bits." Gordie waved his arm like he was slicing something up. "Scattered their body parts all over his land. He thought it would make things grow."

"Gross!" The girl covered her mouth with a hand and turned green as genip.

"It gets better," I said. "He was caught and tried and they hung him right here at Gallows Point, which is where they hung all the criminals and pirates back then. Even though he was a bad man his brother wanted to bury him all proper, so he built him a small concrete tomb."

Gordie continued. "The problem is he's restless. He keeps getting out of his grave and wandering around Gallows Point with that machete, looking for the people who hanged him. People have heard him scraping his machete along the walls of the cottages, particularly the one you're staying in. But because he keeps climbing in and out of his grave, it keeps moving. Sometimes it's up near the road, sometimes closer to the genip tree. Wanna go see it?"

Caribbean Notables

2011-10-24T04:00:00.087-05:00

You still have plenty of time to sign up for my blogfest and gift give-away. Just click on the pumpkin above!

____________________________________________________________________________
You might be surprised by the number of well known people who were born in the Caribbean. Here are just a few.

Most everyone has heard of Bob Marley, born and raised in Jamaica.

As well as another raggae artist, Dennis Brown

But did you know Tim Duncan was born and raised on St. Croix?

And that Rihanna is from Barbados?

National Baseball Hall of Famer, Roberto Clemente, was born and raised in Puerto Rico. This is a picture of the stadium in Puerto Rico that is named in his honor.

Or how about John James Audubon? Not only was he born in Haiti, he was an illegitimate child.

Alexander Hamilton, also illegitimate, was born on Nevis and raised on St. Croix.

Dr. William Thornton (not a house hold name) drew the original design for the Capital Building in Washington D. C. He was born on the tiny island of Jost Van Dyke (a close neighbor to St. Thomas) in the British Virgin Islands.

The father of French Impressionism, Camille Pissarro, was born and raised on St. Thomas.

And yes, Kelsey Grammer, was born on St. Thomas too.

Any well known people from your neck of the woods?

Definitions - Ruction

2011-10-20T04:00:00.055-05:00

You still have plenty of time to sign up for my blogfest and gift give-away, click on the pumpkin above!

______________________________________________________________________________________

A now, a new word, at least for me.

Anyone know what a ruction is? Rhymes with fluxion and suction.

It dates from about 1825 and is of unknown origin. My Webster's says it could be short for insurrection. Ruckus, dating from 1890 is possibly a blend of ruction and rumpus.

Ruction: A rough and often noisy fight. The tomcats outside my window caused such a ruction I was kept up half the night.

Ruction: A state of noisy, confused activity. There was a ruction on the floor of the political convention.

Plural: There will be runtions when she learns he cheated on her.

I think it's a great word.

Synonyms include:
ado, affray, altercation, argument, ballyhoo, blather, bobbery, bother, brawl, broil, bustle, clash, clatter, clutter, combat, commotion, conflict, contest, din, dispute, disturbance, donnybrook,
fisticuffs, flurry, foofaraw, fracas, fray, free-for-all, fun, furor, fuss, fuss and bother, handgrips, hassle, helter-skelter, hoo-ha, hoopla, horseplay, hubble-bubble, hubbub, hullabaloo, hurly, hurly-burly, hurricane,
hurry, hurry-scurry, hustle, kerfuffle, kickup, melee, moil, pandemonium, pother, quarrel, rough-and-tumble, roughhousing, row, ruckus, rumpus, scrap, scrimmage, scuffle, shindy, skirmish, spat, squabble, squall, stew, stir, storm, struggle, tiff, to-do, tumult, turmoil, tussle, uproar, welter, whirl, wrangle, zoo

Okay, now it's your turn. Give us a sentence using the word ruction.

With a Little Luck

2011-10-17T04:00:00.010-05:00

You still have plenty of time to sign up for my blogfest and gift give-away, click on the pumpkin above!

__________________________________________________________________________________

Many famous people have visited St. John.

Back around 1965 or so, I was with a group of four or five friends walking along the beach in Cruz Bay when we saw two figures run down the pier and hop into a boat. They must have thought they were being chased by hoards of screaming teen-aged girls.

But they weren't, it was just us. And we were singing the latest Dave Clark Five hit at the top of our lungs as we jumped up and down waving madly. We couldn't really see them all that clearly as they had towels over their heads, but we always felt it was Paul and Ringo running down the street.

Years later George stayed at Caneel Bay. There were a couple of evenings he showed up at the bar, and impromptu, picked up a guitar and played and sang. I'd love to be able to say I happened to be there the nights it happened, but alas I wasn't.

Left to right, Francis Bay, Lillie Maho (where we had our guest house) Big
Maho.

Now take a look at this photo.

Back in May of 1977 three yachts anchored at Francis Bay. There were all kinds of rumors.

This is a picture of a maho flower.
It's a tree hibiscus.

And they were true. It was Paul McCartney and Wings. One of the yachts was called Fair Carol and was a recording studio. A second yacht was for the band. The third yacht was for Paul, Linda and their kids.

No joke.They were anchored at Francis Bay from May 1st through the 31st.

They recorded seven songs that can be found on the album London Town.

With a little luck, we saw them occasionally. But no one ever took notice, which is probably why they picked St. John. They could wander around like other ordinary tourists. They could blend into the scenery like chameleons and enjoy themselves.

One of the songs they recorded at Francis Bay was, "With a Little Luck."

I like this early, rough version. Just Paul singing with his base line strong and clear. You can almost hear the water washing on the shore, feel the rocking of the boat.

Have you ever been around anyone "famous"? Even met an idol in person?

Blog Action Day - Food Additives #BAD1

2011-10-16T04:00:00.103-05:00

Because I'm not convinced they are completely safe, I was going to comment on several different additives in our food, like: monosodium glutamate, propylene glycol, artificial colors and flavors.

But I got stuck on just one.

Polysorbate 80. Brand names include Alkest, Canarcel and Tween.

Picture take from Arrow Chemicals Company

From Suite 101.com I got this: According to Annals of Allergy, Asthma and Immunology, Volume 95, Number 6, December 2005 , pp. 593-599(7), "it is of current relevance as a 'hidden' inductor of anaphylactoid reactions", and "Polysorbate 80 was identified as the causative agent for the anaphylactoid reaction of nonimmunologic origin in the patient. Conclusions: Polysorbate 80 is a ubiquitously used solubilizing agent that can cause severe nonimmunologic anaphylactoid reactions."

Put in plain English, polysorbate 80 can affect your immune system and cause severe anaphylactic shock which can kill.

Read more at Suite101: Polysorbate 80 Causes Infertility: An Emulsifier That Can Damage Your Reproductive Health | Suite101.com http://joanna-karpasea-jones.suite101.com/polysorbate-80-causes-infertility-a60320#ixzz1aZP6Whbq

Polysorbate 80 is used in (to name just a few things): ice cream and other milk products, some medications and vaccines (flue shots), lotions, creams, toothpaste, batteries, paints and adhesives.

Polysorbate 80 may be harmful to people, like me, who have Crohn's disease.

Click HERE for a list of possible side effects and allergic reactions.

And HERE, at the FDA, is a list of the many different kinds of food additives, the good, the bad AND the ugly.

Over the years I have learned to read labels. I say whenever possible go natural, go organic.

Pay it Forward Blogfest!

2011-10-14T04:00:00.007-05:00

It's here it's happening today! Come on in, take your shoes off and have a look around.

Matt over at The Quintessentially Questionable Query Experiment offered up this idea for a bloghpop.

"The idea is to introduce everyone to everyone else. We want this to be an easy post that allows you to meet and follow as many other bloggers as you can. In your post, we would like you to please list, describe, and link to three blogs that you enjoy reading, but that you suspect may fly under the radar of a lot of other bloggers. Or they can be famous blogs, as long as they're awesome.

But don't stop there! Certainly visit and follow all the blogs that are featured in people's posts the day of the blogfest, but those don't have to be the only blogs you visit. You can visit everyone who enters in on the fun, and signs up on the linky list. In the interest of time you don't even have to leave comment. You can just follow, and come back another time. After all, we all know we don't have time to visit every blog we enjoy every single day."

That's it! So here are three blogs I enjoy reading.

Anne Spollen is an author with two beautifully written books under her belt, The Shape of Water and Light Beneath Ferns. Her accounts of life with her teenage kids is both humorous and up-lifting.

Mary Witzl at ResidentAlien is a writer and teacher who has raised a family, taught, and lived in such diverse places as Japan, Turkey and Scotland. Her stories of dealing with students, her kids, and life are always entertaining and eye-opening.

Tabitha Bird at Through My Eyes lives in Australia and writes beautiful blogs. In her words, "THROUGH MY EYES seeks to inspire the soul. The dragonfly is a symbol of transformation. And reading and writing are, in my opinion, processes of transformation. From my writer's heart to yours, may you...WRITE. HOPE. FLY."

Go, visit, enjoy.

Origins - Whippersnapper

2011-10-13T00:00:00.033-05:00

Last time we looked into the origin of fuddy-duddy. So it only stands to reason that we should learn a little bit about the word whippersnapper.

It was all new to me.

Image by Nelipot at Cheeseburger.com

The word whippersnapper (as you probably know) describes a young person who is impertinent, lazy, and who lacks motivation. One usually hears it coming out of the mouth of an old fuddy-duddy.

What does snapping a whip have to do with being lazy, when cracking the whip has to do with demanding obedience?

Apparently, back in the 17th century there were young men who were ne'er do wells. To pass the time they loitered around on street corners and idly snapped whips.

It didn't take long for people to start calling them whippersnappers.

Synonyms include:

a nobody, a nothing, boldface, brat, brazenface, chutzpanik, cipher, common man, dummy,
elf, enfant terrible, figurehead, gamin, holy terror, hussy, imp, jackstraw, juvenile delinquent, lightweight,
little fellow, little guy, little monkey, malapert, man of straw, minx, nebbish, ne'er do well, nonentity, nullity, pip-squeak, puck, punk, punk kid, pup, puppy, runt, saucebox, scrub, shrimp, small fry, small potato, small potatoes, smart aleck, smart-ass, smarty, smarty-pants, spoiled brat, squirt, squit, swaggerer, upstart, urchin, whiffet, wise guy, wise-ass, zero, zilch

You can learn a bit more about whippersnapper here.

Got any whippersnappers in your home?

Blog Action Day - Food #BAD1

2011-10-11T15:44:00.002-05:00

Blog Action Day is coming up on Sunday October 16th!

What is Blog Action Day? It's a day when bloggers from all over the world write about one subject.

Last year the topic was water. You can read my entry on water here.

This is the third year that I have participated.

This year's topic is #FOOD.

To learn more about Blog Action Day and to register click HERE!

To learn why FOOD was chosen click HERE.

They even offer a few suggestions of what you can write about.

My favorite food
The famine in East Africa
To be organic or not to be, that is the question.
Hunger and poverty.
Best and worst food memory
Slow Food, Fast Food: What does it actually mean
Malnutrition
Conflict over Food: Will new wars be about arable land?
Is your hamburger hurting the environment?
It takes 24 liters of water to produce one hamburger. That means it would take over 19.9 billion liters of water to make just one hamburger for every person in Europe.
Vegan, Vegetarian, Meat eater – Which one are you and why?
Trading in the future of food. What is the impact of food speculation?
Will we be able to feed 9 billion people in 2050?
How does Fair Trade food help farmers and communities get out of poverty?
Freeganism – eating the things others throw away.
The scandal of food waste.
What is the best way to farm food?
Growing your own – the joys and heartache of growing what you eat?
Too much or too little taking food to extremes.
Strangest thing you have ever eaten.
What food means to your culture.

PLEASE JOIN ME!

Thing 1 and Thing 2

2011-10-10T04:00:00.030-05:00

Happy Columbus Day! If you haven't signed up for my blogfest and gift give-away, click on the pumpkin above!

***

It was the summer we were eleven and twelve that my cousin JohnJohn and I were christened Thing 1 and Thing 2. It all started because my sister, Erva, and JohnJohn's sister, Frances, kept harassing us.

I'm sure you can easily get the picture. They were older, wiser girls. They knew everything. There wasn't a thing we could do that they couldn't do better. They whispered and giggled behind our backs and we were sure they were whispering and giggling about us. They ordered us around.

There came a point when we decided enough was enough. JohnJohn, being twelve, took the lead.

One night Erva and Frances were getting all dressed up to go out. Their hair had been in curlers most of the day. Thick ruffled petticoats made of scratchy nylon net were shaken out. Two inch white pumps were checked for scuffs and polished. Modest amounts of make-up was being applied.

It was a big deal.

Step one was getting Erva's attention and luring her into JohnJohn's room. As she opened his door a paper cup full of water fell on her head. Oh, she was furious and near tears. Her hair was ruined! How could we!

We, of course, were laughing with delight, ecstatic that the plan had worked. We also raced out of the house to avoid being smacked on the rear by an irate 15-year-old. We danced around and kicked up our heels in the back yard.

Erva's coif wasn't completely ruined and my Aunt Ninina, after reprimanding me and JohnJohn, made what repairs she could. But her hair was not exactly what she had hoped it would be.

However the night was young. We still had to get back at Frances.

Back then in Puerto Rico there were plenty of huge bullfrogs, as large as my two hands. They were all over the back yard. After the girls left for the party JohnJohn and I gathered up at least a half dozen of the monsters and put them in a paper bag. We put the bag on Frances's bed.

We were sound asleep when screams echoed through the house. Everyone got up. Frances had gotten into bed only to discover a large wet area and, on my god! a frog had somehow gotten under the top sheet and she had touched it with her feet.

Frances hated frogs, particularly those great huge beasts. And these guys had peed their way out of the paper bag and were hopping all around her bedroom. We found them among the shoes, under the bed, and trying to hide in various other places. The sheets had to be changed and the mattress turned....

And that's when JohnJohn and I won the title of Thing 1 and Thing 2. Thank you very much. It was the beginning of my journey into being The Rotten Kid.

Here we are a few years ago. Thing 1 and Thing 2. The Cat in the Hat remains my favorite Dr. Seuss book.

Where you ever given the name of a character from a book?

Abrstactions

2011-10-06T07:15:00.000-05:00

Abstractions remain one of my all time favorite ways to play with words. They are also great writing prompts as well as being a kind of poetry or a piece of flash fiction.

The rules are simple. You can change them around.
1: Abstraction plus verb plus place
2: Describe what the abstraction is wearing
3: Summarize the action

Incongruity danced across the stage in a party dress and pink sneakers, while playing a mean flying V.

Wearing a single purple bow in a most incongruous place Incongruity moved with ease between the states of joy and sorrow, laughing at all her tears.

Incongruity eats worms with kids and snails with the elite. All the while her pearls hide ulterior motives as easily as feathered fans hid Sally Rand.

Now it's your turn to have fun. Using the word Incongruity, leave your own abstraction in the comments.

Awards and Wins!

2011-10-05T04:00:00.071-05:00

A while back Lynn over at LynNerd's Random Acts of Writing (you must check out her blog she's hysterical) gave me the Liebster Blog Award.

I learned from getting this award that liebster means friend in German. Seeing as how there is a large German community just up the road from where I live, I consider this award rather special. Thanks Lynn!

I'm suppose to share an embarrassingly funny memory. Errrrr. Dare I? Okay...I got quite drunk on my 19th birthday, thanks to my mother's wonderful sangria punch. (So I can blame her right?) My friends and I decided we all wanted to go swimming. Most of them were up for going skinny dipping. It was like midnight, it was dark on the beach. We could easily slip out of our clothes and into the water and no one would seen a thing. But no, I was too shy. So what did I do? I changed into my bathing suit behind a door where I thought I was perfectly hidden. Much later (I'm talking years later) I was told I had been completely visible to everyone!

***

Nutschell over at Nut's About Writing gave me this award. I know I'm not cute, so it must be because I have some seriously cute posts? Thanks Nutschell!

***

Lastly I won the book of my choice from Kari Marie over at Writing by Heart. It was hard to decide what book I wanted to get. But finally I made my choice. Because I so enjoyed Across the Universe by Beth Revis I decided to get the sequel, A Million Suns. I'm thinking by the time it comes out in January I'll have forgotten about it (NOT) and will be completely surprised when it arrives in the mail. Thanks a million Kari!

Oktoberfest Blogfest, Gift Give-Away And a New Look!

2011-10-03T00:00:00.022-05:00

It's time. I'm having my first blogfest. The reason? This month, on the 29th, I celebrate my fourth year blogging. AND I'm so close to having 300 Random Followers I just HAVE to CELEBRATE!

So here's the deal. The theme, obviously, is Halloween. On October 26th your challenge is to write and post, in 300 words or less (okay if it goes over no big huge deal) a real life Halloween/ghost memory or a fictional story. If you can work the number four and/or 300 into your story that would make it even more special!

To celebrate four years and 300 Random Followers I will put the names of all those who participate in my bloghop into the proverbial hat and on the 28th YOUR name could be drawn.

The winner will receive this! An ARC of Jessica Bell's book THE STRING BRIDGE scheduled for release November 1st, DOGSLED DREAMS by Terry Lynn Johnson, AND a tatted (by me) bookmark.

Join in the spooky Halloween fun, and spread the word.

I'd love to read YOUR story.

Add your name to list below and be eligible to win!

(What do you think my face-lift?)

Internet Issues

2011-09-30T17:26:00.001-05:00

I've been having connectivity problems this week, which is why I haven't been visiting around. Still having problems. So, I thought I'd best get this out while the window is open.

I'll see you when I see you.

Hopefully by Monday the problems will be corrected.

Sigh.

Alternatives for Absolutely

2011-09-29T00:00:00.036-05:00

And now, our first installment of synonyms or alternatives for an over-used word. You can find the list of over-used words by clicking on the tab above.

Many, many words can be used instead of absolutely, but they require adding the dreaded “ly.” As in: actually, categorically, definitely, easily, exactly, certainly, most assuredly. It’s a huge long list.

Depending on how you use absolute/absolutely in a sentence, here is a list of words and phrases that do not have “ly” at the end.

Enjoy.

a deal

all

all right

altogether

beyond a shadow of a doubt

beyond all bounds

beyond compare/comparison

beyond measure
but of course
by all means

come hell or high water

dead

doubtless

ever so

ever so much

every inch

far and wide

for sure

for the most part

hook, line and sinker

in great measure

in the extreme

in the main

indeed

just

lock, stock and barrel

much

never so

no end of

no ifs, ands, or buts

no strings attached

of course

okay

on a large scale

on the button

on the money

on the nose

one hundred percent

out of all proportion

out of sight

quite
quite right

right

right on

roger

straight out

sure as can be

sure as hell

sure enough

sure thing

the very thing

to a great extent

to be sure

to the hilt

ultra

very

very much

well

with a vengeance

yes

If you can think of any other's to add to the list, please do!

The Rotten Kid and Banned Book Week

2011-09-26T00:00:00.199-05:00

Remember, this is Banned Book Week. Read a banned book. I look over the ALA list of banned books every year and discover something new each time. This year I was surprised to learn that The Call of the Wild by Jack London was banned in Italy and Yugoslavia in 1929 and burned in Nazi bonfires in1933. This book holds a special place in my heart as it is the first book that made me cry and taught me how powerful words can be. I wrote about it here.

(We now return to our regularly scheduled program.)

***

My mother affectionately called me The Rotten Kid. Of course I blamed her for setting a good example. You can read about a couple of her childhood exploits here.

When I was 17 or 18 a family came to stay at our guest house at Lillie Maho on St. John. There were five kids. Two girls and three boys. The girls slept with their parents in one of the units, while the boys slept in one of two "overflow" rooms we called the Bunk Rooms. I slept in the Bunk Room right next to the boys and could heard them talk.

One of two cabins at Lillie Maho. Each cabin had two independent units with bath and kitchenette.

Now these boys were not little kids. The oldest was at least my age, the youngest maybe 11 or 12. You'd think three boys together would be a recipe for adventure. But these guys were total wusses. They were afraid of sleeping by themselves. They were afraid of the night noises. They were afraid of the bugs. Despite having mosquito nets they were afraid they would get eaten alive and/or catch some terrible tropical disease.

I listened to them for several nights as they complained. They hated St. John and being at the guest house. No hot water, no TV, no phones, no radio. Nothing to do. Too much sand. Too much salt water. And all the bugs! Flying and creeping things all over the place.

Then one night one of them said something about "that girl" in the other room that ticked me off. Something had to be done.

At one time there had been a door between the rooms that was boarded over with a sheet of plywood. There was a space of about six inches between the floor and the bottom of the plywood.

I decided to give those boys something to be really frightened of.

When the lights went out in both rooms I stuck my hand through the space at the bottom of the door. I felt around, knowing that one of the beds was up against the wall which divided our rooms. I knew the foot of the bed was close to the door. I felt around until I got a hold of a corner of a sheet and slowly...very slowly, I began to pull.

There was an uproar when the boy in that bed started to feel his covers being pulled off.

"Something's pulling my sheet!"

Lights went on. Explorations were made around the bed. I had long since removed my hand and was sitting with my back to the wall trying to keep from laughing out loud.

Eventually the lights were turned off. They convinced each other it had only been the one kid's imagination.

But they didn't know, I was The Rotten Kid. I waited. After they were all settle down and dosing back off to sleep, I did it again. I pulled on the sheet.

"It's happening again! Something's pulling on my sheet!"

There were sounds of near hysteria. There was a scramble for the light switch. there were more useless explorations and a discussion about what was pulling the sheet. A rat was the most logical explanation. Horrors! A rat!

Satisfied that I had thoroughly demoralized those three scaredy-cat teen-aged boys I went back to bed quite satisfied with myself.

I'm sure they slept an unquiet sleep...with the light on.

The next day extra cots were moved into the unit so the boys could sleep with their parents and sisters. I no longer had to hear their whiny complaints.

Score one (or maybe three) for The Rotten Kid.

Ever pulled any stunts, played any harmless tricks?

Origins - Fuddy-duddy - AND WINNERS!

2011-09-22T00:00:00.003-05:00

YES we have winners for Judy Croome's book, Dancing in the Shadows of Love.

The print copy goes to:
Anne Gallagher at Piedmont Writer

The three ebooks go to:
M. G. Higgins
Christina Farley at Chocolate for Inspiration
Medeia Sharif

I have your emails, except for you Christina, which I will pass on to Judy so that she can get those books to you. So send me your email Christina!

Congratulations my friends! Judy and I thank all of you who visited and left a comment.

(We now return to our regularly scheduled program.)

***

Sometimes when I'm doing the morning crossword I run across a clue or answer that sticks with me for a day or two or three. I wonder about the history of the word or phrase. Sometimes the word will roll around in my head so much it starts to sound totally ridiculous. (I know that's happened to you.)

Such was the case recently when I ran across the word(s) fuddy-duddy. Go on (you know you want to) say it six, seven or more times in a row, fast. The letters play around on your lips and tongue in the most delightful way.

Naturally I had to look it up. A most extensive and excellent explanation was given at The Phrase Finder.

Duddy is a Scottish word meaning ragged. Fuddy, also Scottish, was a term used for buttocks. The British term duddy fuddiel means ragged fellow. What isn't clear is how fuddy and duddy got married in the U. S. and came to mean an old fashioned, narrow minded, old poop. But it did.

It seems that despite its decidedly Scottish and British origins, it is American slang. The first recorded use of the word was in 1889 in the Galveston Daily News. That's right, Texas has the honor. The quote is: "Look here; I'm Smith -- Hamilton Smith. I'm a minister and I try to do about right...I object to being represented as an old fuddy-duddy." Obviously from the way it's used the term had been around long enough for people to know what he was talking about.

We even have a famous character named after the word. Meet Elmer Fudd. Poor Elmer.

Synonyms: If you're looking for another word besides fuddy-duddy (but it's such a great word why use something else?) here's a list:
antediluvian, Colonel Blimp (picture comes to mind) conservative, dinosaur, dodo, dotard, dull person, fogy (just what the heck is a fogy?) fossil, frump, fuss pot, fussbudget (this would be interesting to explore), fussy person, granny, mossback, narrow minded, old bore, old fart, old fogy, old geezer (where did geezer come from?) old maid, old poop, old-fashioned, pain in the butt (my own addition) picayune, picky, pompous, reactionary, spoilsport, square, stick-in-the-mud (this must have a unique history) stuffed shirt and wet blanket.

Do you know a fuddy-duddy? Have one in your family? Are you a fuddy-duddy? Would you admit to being one if you were?

Interview With Judy Croome

2011-09-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

(Answer to Thursday's Word Play: earthy pig = groundhog.)

Let me introduce you to Judy Croome, author of DANCING IN THE SHADOWS OF LOVE.

About Dancing in the Shadows of Love: In the haunting "Dancing in the Shadows of Love," three emotionally adrift women fight to heal their fractured worlds. Not everyone can be a hero.Or can they?

After a decade in prison for a murder she did not commit, Lulu begins a new life at the Court of St Jerome in the Old Sea City. An albino, abandoned as a young child at a Holding Camp for unwanted children, she has always been ostracised,for her difference to others makes her an easy victim of prejudice.

Once, she believed, she had a friend to love her. Then that friend betrayed her and Lulu learned that hate is safer than love. But, from Jamila to Granny Zahra, the people of St Jerome's appear to accept her into their fold. Against a backdrop of never-ending war, the women of the court fight their personal demons: hatred, ambition and greed. As Lulu shares their victories and their losses, she learns to trust again, perhaps even to love.

Nothing, however, is as it seems and Lulu discovers that love does not always wear the face of the one you yearn to call beloved.

Remarkably areligious and boldly atmospheric, buoyed by touches of magical realism, this compelling story explores the sacrifices people make in the pursuit of a love that transcends everyday existence. Lulu's quest, and that of Jamila and Zahra too, is to find the divine love that will fulfil their hopes and save their souls...if they can recognise the masks of those who seek to lead them astray.

***

I was so amazed and impressed by Judy's book I had to ask for an interview, my very first.

How long did it take you to write Dancing in the Shadows of Love from the first words to the final revision?

I’m embarrassed to say this novel has consumed me since I wrote the first word in 2004. I felt better about that statistic when I read that Pulitzer Prize-winning author Marilynne Robertson took 23 years to write her second novel. I hope to beat that record.

How many revisions did it take you?

Too many to remember. Maybe four? Or was it five?

How many rejections did you get from agents and/or publishers before deciding to self-publish?

I stopped counting when I hit 100 rejections.

Is there a story behind the story of how you came to write DSL? Where did the idea come from?

As I watched the Truth and Reconciliation Committee of the post-apartheid 1990’s, I found out how unaware I’d been of what was happening around me as I grew up in a colonial Africa. With my self-image of myself as a “good” person shaken to its foundations, I wanted to explore the nature of prejudice, but in a way that showed prejudice as a general human condition—a way of categorising the multitude of stimuli that make up our external world, rather than as a condition that exists only in certain races (or species.)

“Dancing in the Shadows of Love” is the result of that exploration. I wanted to write a story that transcended colour and race, even species (which is why, in the novel, gentle Grace speaks out against killing animals), so that it could speak to the collective soul, not just the soul of South Africa. Somehow, out of these complex thoughts and emotions, Dancing in the Shadows of Love took shape until, through the eyes of three very different women, I found a way that an ordinary person like myself, one who doesn’t have what it takes to be hero, can also help repair the fractures of a broken and prejudiced world.

Did the stories of these three women come to you all at once or did each evolve separately? Or perhaps a bit of both?

A bit of both – something would happen to one character that would link to another character and so another scene would develop.

Did you write their stories sequentially as they are laid out in the book, or did you write each of their stories separately and then knit them together?

I wrote the stories sequentially, although originally I had the character’s childhoods as flashbacks. In the second revision I changed the order of the scenes/chapters to flow more chronologically.

As I started reading DSL I wondered why you wrote Jamila’s story in third person. But about half way through, I think I got it. Unlike Lulu and Zahra who examine themselves, Jamila seems naive and trusting, and is ultimately blind to her own motives as well as the motives of others. She is even cruel without realizing it. How did you come to know her story needed to be told in third person as opposed to first as with Lulu and Zahra?

I didn’t consciously choose to tell Jamila’s story in third person. I think it happened because she’s the character I liked the least. I couldn’t ‘connect’ with her like I did with Lulu and Zahra. It was easier to write about her in the objective third person.

Aside from the strong spiritual theme of forgiveness and redemption that runs through the book, there are two elements that weave themselves into the lives of the women: white roses and the ocean. I was wondering if you would be willing to give us a hint as to their symbolic meaning.

Bish, yes, those are two of the most important symbols in the story, although there are lots of hidden meanings in the text. Nothing appears in the story by chance. For example, the tuberoses decorating the fashion designer’s shop that Jamila visits with Chuki Wiseman denote dangerous pleasures and reflect Jamila’s dilemma. Enoch’s identity is hinted at because often when people interact with him, the smell of a cedar tree is present. Can anyone say what a cedar tree suggests?

But back to your question: A rose corresponds to the Lotus symbolism: Divine perfection (of the spirit) growing out of the mud of the earth (the body.) Roses thus denote the quest for perfect transcendence of the soul as it yearns for an untarnished fulfillment, and rises up from the dark and muddy primeval waters to blossom in the light above them. The white rose, in particular, is the “flower of light,” of innocence, purity and spiritual unfolding. Thus, in the story, every time the white rose appears the character is moving along on her spiritual journey.

The sea/ocean, as a body of water, symbolizes the unconscious but, being larger than the rivers and lakes which feed into it, the ocean represents the cosmic consciousness (or the Divine Source from which all life emerged.) When a river flows into the ocean, at the point of their union, the two become one body of water. In the same way, at the moment when the individual Self merges with the infinite Divine, enlightenment occurs: we are all one; we have a collective unconscious linking us to the “other.” Thus in DSL, the ocean reminds us that, despite their apparent differences, all of the characters are connected. The sea/ocean (representing the collective cosmic consciousness, or Divine Being, whatever shape of faith it takes) dominates the background of their ordinary lives as a silent, objective witness to the choices they each make on their spiritual journey.

What are you working on now?

I’m tying up the loose ends of the “Dancing in the Shadows of Love” launch via social media, and I’m working on a collection of short stories for release in 2012. But bubbling away underneath all of that activity are the germs of a new novel about grief and loss. The images and ideas are starting to become concrete now, so I suspect I’ll start the actual writing soon.

Where can we find out more about “Dancing in the Shadows of Love”

I’m slowly building a blog dedicated to “Dancing in the Shadows of Love,” where I’ll be exploring themes and symbolism in the future. At the moment, you can watch the book trailer, read reviews, read an interview with the cover artist Wenkidu, or read about the quotes I used.

What are you currently reading?

The amazing “Song of George: The Portrait of an Unlikely Holy Man” by Jesse S Hanson;

“The 90 Day Novel” by Alan Watt and

“The Road to Immortality” by Geraldine Cummings (subtitled “Being a description of the afterlife purporting to be communicated by the late F W H Myers, Classical Lecturer of Trinity College, Cambridge, channeled through Geraldine Cummings.)

Being raised in Zimbabwean bush must have been quite interesting. Can you tell us a bit about yourself, like how long has your family been in Africa?

I can trace some of my Dad’s ancestors back to arriving at the Cape of Good Hope from the Netherlands in 1762. My Mom is descended from English and Irish stock, but as she was brought up in an orphanage, it’s difficult to get accurate information about when they came to South Africa. My sister and I were born in the small mining village of Zvishavane, Zimbabwe and had an idyllic childhood spent in the bush. I’ve lived in cities for years now, but I’m only truly happiest when I’m back in the busy silence of the African bush.

And a bit whimsy: Oranges or mangoes?

No contest – mangoes! You can read why I consider mangoes the perfect last meal on my blog.

Favorite way to relax? Meditation or reading romances

Thank you, Judy for taking time to *talk* with us!

Bish, thanks for inviting me to your blog. I found your questions interesting and challenging. To thank you for your hospitality, I’d like to offer you 1 print copy and 3 eBook editions of “Dancing in the Shadows of Love” to give away to your commentators.

You heard it here. Leave a comment and I'll add your name to the hat. That's all you've got to do. Winners will be announced this coming Thursday the 22nd. Of course, if you feel like it, I'd love if you spread the word!

Changes for Thursday

2011-09-15T00:00:00.009-05:00

Like a cairn, nothing stays the same. How boring it would be if it did. Lucky for us cairns fall apart leaving behind the rocks with which to build a new one. It will never be like the one that came before. And, it will be different to all that come after.

I'm building a new Thursday cairn. I thought about how I could relate it more to writing, but at this point I feel anything I might add would be superfluous as there are already many of you out there doing a wonderful job covering the topic. Not to mention the fact that I don't feel all that knowledgeable or confident.

What, I wondered, could I possibly contribute?

And then it came to me. What do I really love? I love words. So, I have come up with a grab-bag of subjects that, for the most part, relate to these lettered creatures without which we would have nothing to say.

On any given Thursday one of the following topic titles may show up.

Word Play: In which I take two seemingly unrelated words and challenge you to figure out the word or words I'm actually looking for. As in: earthy pig. What word might replace an earthy pig? The answer will be posted the following Monday. So, you'll have to come back Monday to find out what an earthy pig is.
Alternatives: The page on my blog that gets the most hits is Over Used Words. This topic will provide alternatives to, what else? over used words.
Origins: Here I will give the history and origin of interesting words and phrases.
Abstractions: In which I will take an abstraction, add a verb and place, describe what it's wearing and summarize the action. As in: Anger roared across the rooftop in a tattered tux then leapt off the edge in despair. I'll then challenge you to write your own abstraction using the chosen word.
Titles: In which I'll pick a word, any word, and make up titles. Then I'll challenge you to make up a few of your own. As in CLOUD: The Amber Cloud, Cloud City, Clouds of the Eye, If Clouds Were Pillows. Then maybe we can each pick a title and write a 100 word drabble or other bit of flash fiction.
Definitions: When I run across an interesting word I don't know I'll give the definition (and origin too.) I'll use it in a sentence and ask you to do the same.
Random Thought Thursday will continue to be dedicated to a random quote from some well known person, or not.
Six Impossible Things: In which I will think of six impossible things before breakfast and ask for your contribution.

Does this sound amenable to you? Can you think of any other wordy type things that would be of interest?

Mondays, by the way, will continue to be dedicated to vignettes of growing up in the Virgin Islands, current stuff going on in my life that I feel like sharing, and other random acts of writing.

If I Could Be Anyone, I'd Be...

2011-09-14T00:00:00.060-05:00

...George Harrison. Well, I'd LOVE to play guitar like he did.

In honor of Talli Roland's new book, Watching Willow Watts which is coming out TODAY, I am participating in her bloghop/blogfest where we confess who we most admire, or would like to impersonate, or would like to be, or envy.

About Watching Willow Watts: For Willow Watts, life has settled into a predictably dull routine: days behind the counter at her father's antique shop and nights watching TV, as the pension-aged residents of Britain's Ugliest village bed down for yet another early night. But everything changes when a YouTube video of willow's epically embarrassing Marilyn Monroe impersonation gets millions of hits after a viewer spots Marilyn's ghostly image in a frame.

Instantly, Willow's town is overrun with fans flocking to see the 'new Marilyn'. Egged on by the villagers -- whose shops and businesses are cashing in -- Willow embraces her new identity, dying her hair platinum and ramming herself full of cakes to achieve Marilyn's legendary curves.

But when a former flame returns seeking the old Willow, Willow must decide: can she risk her stardom and her village's newfound fortune on love, or is being Marilyn her ticket to happiness?

You can find Talli's book at:
Amazon UK and at
Amazon Go on you know you want a copy!
And hop around, click HERE to check who the rest of us wish we could be!

(Back to George.)

Even when I didn't like The Beatles (a period of time that didn't last very long) I liked George. Though he was called "The Quiet Beatle," I believe he had the quickest wit, the sliest sense of humor. His songs, "Taxman" and "Piggies," attest to his ability to employ sarcasm. He didn't have to play a million notes and sound like he was on speed to get his point across. I love his slide work which sounds faintly of sitar, an instrument he discovered in India. It's extremely difficult to learn to play, yet he took up the challenge and was the first to bring it's sound into rock music. He had a few other firsts as well: first Beatle to have a solo album (1968) writing the soundtrack for the movie "Wonderwall," first rock musician to hold a benefit concert known as, "The Concert for Bangladesh," first solo Beatle to tour North America.

I also admire how he found a spiritual faith that he sustained through-out his life and expressed without apology through his music.

I swore if I ever got the chance to see any former Beatle in concert I'd go.

In 1974 I happened to be living with my folks in northern California when I learned that George Harrison was going to be playing at the Oakland Coliseum promoting his new album Dark Horse. Luckily I had a cousin living in the Bay area who not only got me a ticket, but let me stay with her. She even dropped me off and picked me up after the concert. She and her boyfriend couldn't afford to go...the tickets cost too much, a whopping $8 or $9! And for that we got not only George, but Ravi Shankar, Billy Preston, Tom Scott and the L. A. Express and a host of other musicians and singers.

This is a the cover of the concert booklet. Yes, I still have it. The picture of him above is also from the booklet.

I have never been more excited and terrified at the same time as I was walking into that stadium by myself. I'd been to other concerts but none as large as that one. There I was one of about 20,000 people. I have no idea how I found my seat, which was perched up in the clouds. I even brought my father's bird binoculars so I could maybe get a closer glimpse of my one and only rock idol.

When he came out on stage and started to play, I wasn't prepared for my reaction. Up until that moment I hadn't understood why people (mostly females I suspect) scream at concerts. But I got it. Something totally primal and filled with love came bubbling up out of me and burst from my throat and mouth being expressed in the only possible way it could be expressed. A scream. It so startled me I clapped my hand over my mouth and looked around embarrassed. A young man sitting next to me, yelled into my ear, "Don't worry, I screamed too!" And we laughed and screamed with delight, just as most everyone else was doing.

We were a good audience. We didn't scream through the entire concert, just at that first initial rush of energy. Then we settled down to listen. Ahhhh. I'll not soon forget. He was hoarse from having done so many concerts, but did I care? Hell no.

Of all the things I've done in my life, seeing George Harrison in concert is in the top five "Best Of" list.

These two videos are taken from the 1974 tour when he stopped in Fort Worth, Texas. The first one, "Hari's on Tour," highlights his slide work and his exuberance. The second is the song "Dark Horse." The film and audio aren't the best, but do I care? Hell no.

You thought that you knew where I was and when
But it looks like they've been foolin' you again,
You thought that you'd got me all steaked out
But baby looks like I've been breaking out

I'm a dark horse
Running on a dark race course
I'm a blue moon
Since I stepped from out of the womb
I've been a cool jerk
Looking for the source
I'm a dark horse.

You thought you had got me in your grip
Baby looks like you was not so smart
And I became too slippery for you
But let me say that was nothing new.

I'm a dark horse
Running on a dark race course
I'm a blue moon
Since I picked up my first spoon
I've been a cool jerk
Looking for the source
I'm a dark horse

I thought that you knew it all along
Until you started getting me not right
Seems as if you heared a little late
But I warned you when
We both were at the starting gate

I'm a dark horse
Running on a dark race course
I'm a blue moon
Since I stepped from out of the womb
I've been a cool jerk
Cooking at the source
I'm a dark horse.

Mr. Davis and Tom

2011-09-12T00:00:00.026-05:00

Behind Gus and Charlotte’s house was a small one room building, rather like a storage shed. It was probably no more than 10 X 15 feet. It had a door at one end and two windows on at least one wall. I never went inside because that’s where Mr. Wilber Davis lived.

Gus and Charlotte at their front door.

Mr. Davis had been an artist. He wound up living at Trunk Bay, caretaking the place when the Boulons were not in residence. Grammy took his art work to Puerto Rico and sold it for him in gift shops and art galleries. He was really quite good. He mostly did etchings on tiles. We still have a few of his pieces.

Mom said he was cantankerous even back in the 1930’s. By the time he was living in the shed he had become a reclusive hermit who snarled at people. What he did in that shed all day is anyone’s guess. He didn’t do art. Perhaps he read. Perhaps he sat in a chair and mumbled to himself about how badly life had treated him. Perhaps he slept.

Whatever he did or didn’t do, one thing is certain; for me at eight or nine years old, Mr. Davis was a scary and mysterious person.

Charlotte fed him every day. If I was visiting it was understood I was not to show my face. Even Gus kept to other parts of the house. I’m sure she fed him three times a day, but it’s the late-afternoon/evening meals I remember best.

Off the kitchen there was a long covered porch or veranda. It was about 6 or 7 feet wide and ran the length of the house. By the kitchen door was a small round table and a single chair. Charlotte would set the table and have a plate of food in place. Then, in her thin high voice, she’d call him.

“Yoo-hoo! Wilber! Dinner!” She was the only one to call him by his first name.

A minute or so later Mr. Davis would appear out of the depths of his self-imposed exile. He was a large, imposing figure and always wore the same thing, no matter the time of year or the weather: dark trousers, dark long-sleeved shirt and often an ancient knee-length over-coat that was probably made of wool. Sometimes he wore a battered fedora. He’d walk the 30 or so feet to the back porch, eat, get up and return to his dark den.

Charlotte was the only one who spoke to him. Did he want more? Would he like a glass of water? A cup of coffee perhaps? He would reply with a simple gruff, yes or no.

When Charlotte called Mr. Davis for dinner, she also called a wild tomcat. She had several regular tame cats, but she fed the wild cat separately. She’d put out a dish of food in the same place every evening and in her high thin voice she’d call,

“Yoo-hoo! Tom. Yoo-hoo! Dinner, Tom!”

Out of the tangle of catch’n’keep and wild tamarind that grew behind the house would come slinking a great huge battle-scarred orange tomcat. Part of one ear was nearly chewed off. He fur was scraggly and lumpy with cuts and scabs and scars. He’d come slinking in, wary of anything different or any movement that was not part of his frame of reference.

He’d come slinking in, eat his bowl of food, then slink back into the bush.

Mr. Davis and Tom ate their meals together in hostile, untrusting silence.

Mr. Davis ate without looking around; as if angry he might see something he liked which would then necessitate an acknowledgement.

Tom crouched in tense expectation that he might have to bolt at any moment. After each gulp of food his head swiveled from side to side, taking in his surrounding, making sure nothing had changed.

They were the same kind of creature, Mr. Davis and Tom. Life had dealt them blows which had caused them to retreat into isolation. They were wild; Mr. Davis having chosen it and Tom because he had been born to it.

Yet between them they had Charlotte, whose’ sweet face, quiet voice and non-judgmental manner, brought the two together each evening.

Was it because the wounds they suffered and the scars they bore were momentarily soothed by her ministrations? The moments were not enough to civilize the misanthropic old man or tame the wild old tomcat, but they were enough to keep them coming back and to develop a routine.

Daily they came to the borderland of civilization, a neutral zone on the back porch. They could have come inside the house any time and been welcomed, but the porch was as close to the smell of humanity as either of them cared to get.

As a little girl I caught occasional glimpses of the old wild man and the old wild cat as they made their journeys to the edge of that reality in which they could not endure to live. Frightening as they were I dared to take peeks at them, hoping they would notice me and see me as harmless and thus allowing me to befriend them. I was equally terrified that if they did see me they would run away and never come back.

I walked a thin brittle line. Common sense, instinct or some part of my unconscious knew not to intrude and kept me from causing a break in the fragile connection Charlotte had with them.

In that time with Charlotte, perhaps a memory was made which lingered like a salve, easing some of the pain. Perhaps it was the lingering trace of that memory which kept them coming back. Her calm, quiet, unhurried, patient demeanor taught me that even the most damaged or wild of creatures can be coaxed out of the darkness and into the light, even if only for a moment.

Bastrop Fire Update

2011-09-08T17:20:00.000-05:00

Just to let you know. As of a few hours ago the fire was still only 30 percent contained. Nearly 35,000 acres have burned.

But here's the kicker folks, they've got a new estimate on the number of homes that have been destroyed.

Ready?

1386. That's right one thousand three hundred and eighty six homes.

The total number of home in the state that have been destroyed since the start of this horrible season of fire is: 1626.

You can read more about the Bastrop fire as well as other fires here.

Please go here, if you have a few pennies to donate.

Thank you.

Call for Help

2011-09-07T08:43:00.001-05:00

I don't know how many of you are aware of the huge and horrible fire raging about 25 miles from Austin, Texas near a small town called Bastrop. As of this morning, over 33,000 acres and between 550 and 600 homes have been destroyed and two people have died. The valiant firefighters have only 30% of it contained.

Image taken from the website of EarthSky: A Clear Voice for Science

It is so big the smoke can seen from space. Currently some 1200 firefighters are battling blazes all across the state with extra help coming from as far away as California and Oregon.

It has destroyed more homes than any other Texas fire since they began keeping records. The number of people displaced and who have lost everything is mind-boggling.

You can see videos and pictures of the devastation here and here.

I realize there are disasters happening all across the United States and the world, still, I am sending out a call for help.

Give what you can.

You can donate to The Salvation Army here and to The Red Cross here.

Thank you.

Signs of the Drought

2011-09-05T00:00:00.160-05:00

The drought of 2011 may well go down as the worst, if not the second worst, in the weather history of Texas. A record 3.5 million acres have been consumed in wildfires.That's about the size of Connecticut plus the U. S. Virgin Islands. On this Labor Day it isn't easy laboring under these conditions.

I've taken some pictures of how things are looking in our area. Not good.

Remember Dave and Dave Too the turtles we rescued? Here's the creek where we put them as it looked last fall.

This is what it looked like when we put them in the creek, just two months ago.

This is what it looks like today. Looking south.

Looking north.

The hardy yucca are turning yellow...

...and dying.

The stoic prickly pears are shriveling up.

There are stands of bamboo around the public library, they are all turning yellow and probably in their death throws.

Warning! the following picture may be disturbing to some.

A fawn left where it was born. Not much bigger than my shoe, a whopping size nine.

It's all a bit disturbing, this heat and the dry. Everyone is tired of it, on edge, wondering about the future. Private wells are going dry. The city is on stage 4 water restrictions which means the only watering that can be done is with a hand held hose and only once a week. And yet our "city fathers" are wanting money to build a new exit off the interstate so they can open up a tract of land for a proposed 60 new homes. And another developer wants to build somewhere between 130 to 150 homes not so far from where we live.

Either we don't have enough water for the people who are already here and our government officials are stupid idiots for wanting to add more, or, we do have enough water and they are lying to us. I strongly suspect the first.

For those in the northeast and south, I truly sympathize. All that flooding, all that damage. It's the same here, only in reverse.

Have you ever been through a serious drought?

Write a Post Help a Dog - Midnight is the Deadline!

2011-09-03T15:11:00.000-05:00

I don't usually post on the week-ends, but my friend Anne at Piedmont Writer found this at The Eagle's Aerial Perspective. And it's a worthy cause. I have simply pasted up what The Golden Eagle has on her post. If you can join in before midnight, you will be helping a dog. And that's a pretty nice way to say Happy Labor Day!

Pedigree is resurrecting its insanely successful Write a Post, Help a Dog program. In 2010, 391 bloggers wrote about the program and with each post, Pedigree donated 20 pounds of its Healthy Longevity dog food to shelter animals. In all, 7,820 pounds of food was donated to two shelters renowned for their care of senior dogs: Muttville Senior Dog Rescue in San Francisco and Castaway Critters in Harrisburg, Pa.

How you can help in 2011

Simply spread the word about Write a Post, Help a Dog 2011 and once again Pedigree will donate 20 pounds of food for each blogger's post. Here's all you need to include in your post:

The Write a Post, Help a Dog program is aimed at raising awareness and food for the more than four million dogs that wind up in shelters and breed rescues each year.
For each blog post mentioning the Pedigree Foundation from now until midnight ET on September 3, Pedigree will donate 20 pounds of its new dry Pedigree recipe food for dogs -- its best recipe ever -- to a shelter, because every dog deserves leading nutrition.

The Pedigree Foundation -- a 501 (C)(3) nonprofit organization is committed to helping dogs by providing grants to shelters and rescues and encouraging dog adoption. This year the Foundation has already raised more than $376,570 against its goal of $1.5 million to carry out its work to fund grants that not only help shelters operate, but to further shelter innovations.
The Pedigree Foundation depends on charitable contributions from individuals to carry out its mission to help dogs find loving homes. In addition to writing a blog post, here's how you can help:

Donate online at http://pedigreefoundation.org/donate.aspx
Apply for a shelter grant from the Pedigree Foundation by completing a form at www.pedigreefoundation.org
Purchase Dogs Rule Gear at www.dogsrulegear.com where the proceeds go to the Pedigree Foundation to help loving dogs find a home. SPECIAL OFFER: Get 10 percent off Dogs Rule Gear by using the promo code BlogPaws10 from August 22 - September 30.

Now, the deadline for this is TONIGHT, and the link is at The Eagle's Aerial Perspective blog. So please go there, link up, copy and paste, or blog what you can to help this fabulous cause.

Random Thought Thursday - Awards and Wins!

2011-09-01T00:00:00.081-05:00

It’s time to acknowledge a few people.

First, Judy Croome in South Africa, has gifted me her book, DANCING IN THE SHADOWS OF LOVE. Don’t you just love the title and the cover artwork? Check it out at Amazon.com here. Judy is a really sweet friend and I’m deeply appreciative of this gift.

In the haunting "Dancing in the Shadows of Love," three emotionally adrift women fight to heal their fractured worlds. Not everyone can be a hero. Or can they? After a decade in prison for a murder she did not commit, Lulu begins a new life at the court of St Jerome in the Old Sea City. An albino, abandoned as a young child at a Holding Camp for unwanted children, she has always been ostracized, for her difference to other makes her an easy victim of prejudice.

Once, she believed, she had a friend to love her. Then that friend betrayed her and Lulu learned that hate is safer than love. But, from Jamila to Granny Zahra, the people of St. Jerome's appear to accept her into their fold. AGainst a backdrop of never-ending war, the women of the court fight their personal demons: hatred, ambition and greed. As Lulu shares their victories and their losses, she learns to trust again, perhaps ever to love.

Nothing however, is as it seems and Lulu discovers that love does not always wear the face of the one you call beloved.

***

Because of Danyelle Leafty and an interview with Shana Norris, I won a copy of Shana’s new book, THE BOYFRIEND THEIF. Thanks Danyelle and Shana! You can find Shana's book here.

Avery James has her life planned out: this summer she'll work with a humanitarian program in Costa Rica, next year she'll graduate at the top of her class, and after that, college and medical school. Perfect, planned total order.

The only problem: getting the rest of the money she needs for the trip before the deadline. Hannah Cohen, her biggest competition for the valedictorian title, makes an unexpected offer: If Avery can win over Zac Greeley and make him break up with Hannah before the end of the school year, a check for five hundred dollars is all hers. Faced with the prospect of spending yet another summer working as a giant hot dog, it's an offer Avery can't refuse. Zac is nothing like Avery expected. Within his chaotic world of midnight slushie runs and spontaneous dance parties, her total order is quickly falling apart while Hannah seems poised to get everything she wants. But just how much is Avery willing to give up for the perfect, planned life?

***

Kelly Polark has new blog promoting literacy called BOOK RECS OF THE ROCK AND FAMOUS. Here she will tell us all about what the stars are reading. I hope you’ll go check it out.

***

Mel, over at M. G. Higgins, as given me the Appreciated Follower Award. THANKS MEL!

I have to:

*thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it.

*reveal my top five and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.

*copy and past the award onto my blog.

*have faith that my bloggers will spread the love to other bloggers.

*and most of all, have a BLOGGITY-BLOG good time!

It was hard to choose just five Random Followers, but here they are in no particular order.

***

And lastly, but not leastly, I was given this award from C. Lee McKenzie over at The Write Game.

She didn't say to passed it on, but I would like to give this to some bloggers I think you should follow, if you aren't already, which is what this award is all about. Blogs YOU my fellow bloggers should go check out.

Matt at The Quintessentially Questionable Query Experiment. Matt is really good at critiquing query letters along with giving wonderful support to our writing community.
Tabitha at Through My Eyes writes from her heart and therefore writes about all of us.
Lisa at Middle Passages shares her life and stories about food.
Marcia Hoehne, an ICL instructor and author offers the occasional free critique and writes book reviews.
Agela Felsted shows us who we are through poetry.

Happy blogging to all of you!

My First Bicycle - Part Two

2011-08-29T00:00:00.124-05:00

Like I said last Monday, I was an immediate expert bicyclist.
In this picture you can see the Beehive up the hill behind our jeep, The Yellow Dragon. Left to right, Erva, Me, Dad, Nana (Dad's Mom) and Mom.

From where we parked the jeep, the driveway was pretty steep and rutted as you can sort of see in this picture. The building to the right was a workshop. (It would be to the left in the above picture.) Dad had his ham radio station there and his tools and it's where we kept our bikes. It's also where I "went to school" because Mom was home schooling me at the time.

About a week or so after I learned to ride I coasted down off that gravelly driveway, and merged onto a flat stretch of dirt road that merged onto a paved road.

I was going too fast. There was a lip where the pavement met the dirt road. I was afraid if I hit that lip too fast I'd loose control of the bike. I slammed on the handle-bar brakes, not realizing what would happen.

Bike came to a sudden stop, Bish went flying. I hit the ground so hard the wind got knocked out of me. When I could finally breathe I started screaming...and Mom didn't call me "one of God's screechers" for nothing. Somehow, from all the way up at the house, she heard me and came running.

I'd landed on my hands and knees. My palms were scraped and my right knee was a mess. It was gouged and full of dirt and tiny bits of rock. Mom took one look at it and realized her ministrations might not be enough. She loaded me in the jeep and we went to tell Dad we were going to the clinic in Cruz Bay and have Dr. Peterson take a looked at it. It might need stitches at the worst. But it definitely needed a professional cleaning.

I, of course was sobbing from pain, from fear, from surprise at how easily I could be thrown from the bike. Plus I was upset that I was going to have a scar on my knee.

And Dad says, "Don't worry, you can wear stockings when you grow up and it won't show."

Already a tomboy, the idea of wearing stockings meant that I couldn't run around barefooted. Wearing stockings was, to me, a kind of punishment for being a girl. I wailed even louder, "But I don't want to wear stockings!"

Oh...I laugh now, but it wasn't funny then! As it turned out, I didn't need stitches, just some good irrigating, stinging Mercurochrome and a bandage. However, it did leave a scar I still have, though it's faded. And as for stockings, I never have worn them except for very special occasions.

How about you, any bicycle scars? Are you a stockings or barefoot kind of person person?

Random Thought Thursday

2011-08-25T00:00:00.012-05:00

Sing like there's no one listening. Or write, or paint, or dance like there's no one watching.

Be you, be free.

And remember what the White Queen said to Alice in Through the Looking-Glass, "Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast!"

Here is today's list of six impossible things. (This will be a random reoccurring list.)
1. Sliding on a rainbow.
2. Having tea with George Harrison
3. June arriving in January
4. Dogs meowing like cats
5. Tadpoles turning into birds
6. Seedless strawberries (although I suppose they could be genetically altered)

Got any impossible things you'd like to share?

My First Bicycle - Part One

2011-08-22T00:00:00.118-05:00

Between about 1955 and 1959 my father was the head of maintenance at Caneel Bay, which was at that time Laurence Rockefeller's private resort hotel. For about two of those years we lived at Caneel as housing was provided for many of the employees.

Somehow we got the best house on the place. It was the farthest away from everything and perched on the side of a hill, thus giving us the grandest view of the resort and the ocean. But it was small, with three closet bedrooms, a microscopic bath, a tiny kitchen, and a living room about 12 by 15 feet. We called it the Beehive.

On my eighth birthday Dad presented me with a bicycle, a real one with handle-bar brakes and everything. He proudly explained that he had built it from the salvaged parts of three wrecks. It looked perfect, all shiny and freshly painted blue. I should have been thrilled because a bike was what I wanted. But inside (I kept my disappointment to myself) I was not happy. I wanted a "new" bike, like the Raleigh my sister had been given. Of course the memory of that bike now has a great deal more meaning for me. My dad made it. Nothing could be more precious than that. But at the time, well, I was eight, I couldn't appreciate the significance of the gift.

My disappointment was momentary. Below is a picture of a kapok tree that I took with my red brownie camera. Behind the tree you can see a road going right to left (it disappears to the left of the tree) with another one joining it coming down from the right. It was on the long lower road that Erva taught me how to to ride.

You can see in the picture, the slight rise and fall of the road. I remember the dips and rises as being huge. Of course I fell the first time I got on the bike, but the second time... I coasted down the first little hill, down into the dip. It was a terrifying thrill. Oh the speed! The wind in my face! And then Erva was yelling at me to peddle as I went up the rise. So I peddled furiously, up and up until I came to the crest then, down the second dip, flying, flying.

I was hooked. And I was an immediate expert bicyclist.

Come back next Monday to learn the truth.

Do you remember your first bike and learning how to ride it?

Random Thought Thursday

2011-08-18T00:00:00.054-05:00

Today's quote is not a quote, it's a short excerpt from a book by Thomas Cahill called How the Irish Saved Civilization, copyright 1995. Check it out, it's an excellent read. In this particular excerpt Mr. Cahill is summing up the causes for the fall of the Roman Empire, which was long drawn out affair ending with it's final death throws when the Visigoths ransacked Rome on a cold December day in 406 AD.

"There are, no doubt, lessons here for the contemporary reader. The changing character of the native population, brought about through unremarked pressures on porous borders; the creation of an increasingly unwieldy and rigid bureaucracy, whose own survival becomes its overriding goal; the despising of the military and the avoidance of its service by established families, while its offices present unprecedented opportunity for marginal men to whom its ranks had once been closed; the lip service paid to values long dead; the pretense that we still are what we once were; the increasing concentration of the populace into richer and poorer by way of a corrupt tax system, and the desperation that inevitably follows; the aggrandizement of executive power at the expense of the legislature; ineffectual legislation promulgated with great show; the moral vocation of the man at the top to maintain order at all costs, while growing blind to the cruel dilemmas of ordinary life -- these are all themes with which our world is familiar, nor are they the God-given property of any party or political point of view, even though we often act as if they were. At least the emperor could not heap his economic burdens on posterity by creating long-term public debt, for floating capital had not yet been conceptualized."

If we do not learn from history we are doom repeat it. See how the mighty have fallen.

The Forum in Rome. Photo by Erin Silversmith

Dad's Rats

2011-08-15T00:00:00.098-05:00

Before I was born Dad was involved with the nuclear bomb tests in Nevada. After I was born he worked in a lab that developed different technologies, like the radiation tags he invented for people who worked around radioactive material. The lab also did various types of research with animals like dogs, pigs and rats.

Rats are excellent swimmers.

One of the experiments had to do with stamina. How long could a rat swim before it got so tired it would give up and sink?

Initial tests were exciting. The rats swam vigorously when first put in the tank of water. They swam and swam and swam until they got so tired their little front feet paddled just enough to keep their little noses poking out of the water, while the rest of their bodies sagged towards the bottom of the tank.

Eventually, of course, the rats sank at which point they were rescued from the bottom of the tank and put into their cages to recuperate.

But rats are not only good swimmers, they are smart. It didn't take them long to figure out they didn't need to expend energy and swim vigorously when first put into the water. Nope all they had to do was keep their little noses above water and they could stay afloat for a looooooooonnnnggggggggg time.

Thing is, the rats didn't leave it at that. They quickly realized that when they sank they got rescued. So, as soon as they were put into the tank of water, they didn't even bother swimming, they just sank!

Sometimes we need to be reminded that we may not have to struggle as vigorously as we often times do. Sometimes we should allow ourselves to sink in the sure and certain knowledge that we will be rescued.

I know it's happened to me. What about you? Have you ever let yourself sink only to find yourself suddenly rescued?

Random Thought Thursday

2011-08-11T08:37:00.006-05:00

I'm a bit late getting this up. I have my reasons...like helping to care for a friend who's had surgery. (Nothing life threatening, she'll be fine.)

Today's quote is from my favorite American heroine, Abigail Adams.

She said: Learning is not attained by chance, it must be sought for with ardor and diligence.

I think I see determination and self-reliance lingering around her lips. Yet there is a wistfulness about her eyes as if she is staring off into the distance, into a future that she can catch glimpses of and sense what will come. Think of all the years she spent parted from her beloved John. What strength she had, what fortitude. She took care of their farm, raised and educated their children, dealt with illness and the hardships of the Revolutionary War.

And she did it all without our "modern conveniences." No cell-phone, no computer, no electricity, no microwave, no refrigerator or freezer, no heat or AC. The list of what she didn't have is long.

What she did have was ardor and diligence.

How well would we do if we were in her shoes? How diligent are you, strong is your ardor?

Boxes

2011-08-08T00:00:00.003-05:00

For those who want to know, we got a new AC/heater unit put in and are breathing a sigh of relief. The old one was indeed totally disgusting. I guess we're lucky it didn't quit completely before we were able to get a new one installed.

Once I started putting The Other Room back together I knew I was in for the long hall, that it was going to end up being one of those deep cleans. I started in the small walk-in closet. We had to pull a dresser out of it so we could dry the carpet due to the water leaking from the old AC unit. Cleaned out the closet on Friday and got the dresser back in. Now both of us can actually be in there together at the same time have room to turn around!

I tackled the rest of The Other Room over the week-end. The bookcases, along with all their books and magazines, are back in place everything dusted and clean. There's still work to be done, but the worst is out of the way.

But here's the interesting thing. It's all about boxes.

Most of what needed to be cleared out of the closet was boxes. Empty boxes. You see, both my sweetie and I have this thing about boxes. You never know when you're going to need one and you never know what size you're going to need. So, hey, let's keep this one and this one and this one (ad nausium) because, well, you never know....

When Stan saw how many boxes came out of the closet he was as amazed as myself. How did we manage to stuff so many boxes into that small space? It was inspirational. We decided to pull boxes from other places. The garage, the attic, the storage shed.

And this my dears, is the result. The whole back of the pick-up truck, filled.

Boxes within boxes within boxes within boxes. Everything from small little jewelry boxes to great big boxes into which we could put our 100 pound dog (who by the way has a bit of a phobia about big boxes and doesn't like being near them.)

We did keep a few select boxes, because, well, you never know.... I hope they don't somehow share DNA and magically reproduce.

Is there anything you secretly or unconsciously or even consciously sort like, hoard?

If it ain't raining...

2011-08-04T00:00:00.003-05:00

...it's pouring cats and dogs. I wish.

Ah the trials and tribulations of being a home owner. I wouldn't change that, but sometimes...SOMEtimes, it'd be nice to be able to call up the landlord and tell him/her to get over here and FIT it.

First the stove went out. It's a 26 year-old Roper gas stove and I love it. You know how you tend to use one burner more than any other on a stove? Well, that's the one that got burned out. Can't be replace, parts aren't available for it any more. BUT, we know of this place in Hollywood, California that's like a stove hospital. Victor had helped us out before and he helped us out again. Got a refurbished (not new) burner. All fixed right?

Nope.

The regulator in the stove itself went bad. But not to worry, we found a place to get the part and it's been ordered. It isn't here yet and I'm prepared for it to be the wrong one. In which case we may have to buy a new stove. (I'm NOT looking forward to THAT.) In the mean time I'm "cooking" with a nifty old electric skillet and the microwave. I miss my stove.

But that's not all folks.

Got up last Sunday to find the carpet in The Other Room was all wet and soggy. The Other Room is our office, the place where I write, where we have the computer, where we have three bookcases, where I do the ironing and work on crafts. It is also the place where various miscellaneous items and pieces of paper and magazines and books go to get lost. Turned out the water was coming from our ancient air conditioner. Yep...it's gonna have to be replaced. Huge expense. We've got air for the time being, but who knows for how long? And with this scorching Texas summer we simply can't be without it. Anyway, we had to move, two full-sized bookcases and a dresser to get at the soggy carpet so we could shop-vac it and towel it and put the fans on it so it could dry out.

The Other Room, normally somewhat cluttered but navigable, became near impenetrable what with the boxes filled with books and other precious stuff that we'd forgotten we had. The up side is that when I/we put it all back together it'll be a good excuse to thoroughly clean and dust and throw stuff out.

Breathing a sigh of relief? Nope...the cellphone died.

Before and After - Cruz Bay

2011-08-01T00:00:00.003-05:00

This is a picture of my grandmother, Erva Boulon, riding her horse into Cruz Bay. It was taken in 1945. Almost every day, she rode the twisting, turning two miles from her guest house at Trunk Bay, to pick up the mail and do whatever shopping she could.

The large building on the near point of land is called The Battery. It was built by the Danes and was a kind of small fort. There are protecting walls and places for cannon. And...there is a dungeon. If you look closely you can see there are actually two buildings. The long one in front of the larger two story building (with stairs and balcony) was the post office. Everyone picked up their mail there. WE had our own cardboard box on the floor into which all our mail was tossed.

The far point of land that sweeps away to the right is called Gallows Point. I don't know if anyone was ever actually hanged there. However, my best friend and I certainly had fun pretending the place was haunted by blood thirsty pirates who'd been hung from the old genip tree. Sometime in the early 1950s Duke Ellington and his wife Kay built several cottages there and a had bar where locals met after work. Duke was a mystery writer. You can read a little about him here. Duke was the older brother of Steve, of Steve and Nora fame who helped us out during the drought of 1960-61.

This picture was taken at least six years ago. The seven tiny cottages at Gallows Point are long gone, replaced with resort condos. That large ugly gouge in the hillside has been filled with an equally large and ugly condominium and/or apartment complex, I'm not sure which. The only thing that has remained the same is The Battery, the ocean and the sky.

Nothing stays the same, but sometimes I wish things wouldn't change so drastically. Are you facing a change you'd rather not deal with, but must?

Random Thought Thursday

2011-07-28T07:41:00.002-05:00

Today's quote is from Robert Browning. What is it with those under the chin whiskers? Henry David Thoreau sported them too. I guess it's one way of keeping your neck warm. No need for a muffler.

In reading up about him I discovered he had a connection to the Caribbean. His father's father was a wealthy plantation owner on the island of St. Kitts. Browning's father was sent to work on the plantation and was so disgusted by slavery that he became an abolitionist. Browning's parents seemed to have been quite liberal for the times. When he couldn't/wouldn't handle school he was educated at home, and had the run of his father's extensive library. Within a few years he was fluent in five languages (I'm including English.)

He grew up quite comfortably (living at home until the age of 34!) married the love of his life, traveled around Europe and appears to have had a pretty nice life.

And I like this quote... a lot.

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate.

Inotherwords, it's not the goal or end result that's important, it's the journey. Strive always to do your best and that in itself will be rewarding.

I've lived long enough now, to know this is true. For you young puppies, with your eye on the ball, that's good, that's very good. But remember as you run after it, to stop and sniff that interesting something over there, or roll in the grass and kick up your legs.

Have you ever reached a goal and then felt somehow, let down, disappointed, empty?