Animal Geek Extraordinaire

Petal

2020-07-03T03:56:02Z

It's been a week and 2 days and I am so in love with my little baby puppy. Here's a bunch of family pics, of Ashton, Petal, us with the doggies, and just us humans. A big mix of happy photos! (24 photos in all)

ellison @ 2020-05-17T23:32:00

2020-05-18T06:32:20Z

PHOTOS!! Home haircut I gave myself!!

Before (it suddenly hit 85 degrees, and I was like, NOPE, byeee hair!!):

Aaaaand After!!:

LJ Idol S11: Second Chance Week 2: Echo Chamber

2020-02-21T00:49:33Z

The wet sand between her toes soothed her soul as she walked. “I guess it soothes my soles, too,” she mused as she continued down the beach and might have laughed if she hadn’t been in such a sour mood.

She and Ethan has had another stupid fight. All couple had fights like this, though. They were still solid, right? Of course. They always were. She loved him, he loved her. He was just being a dick right now.

She couldn’t believe Ethan had pulled this again, though. She told him weeks ago that she’d be taking more courses in nursing school this semester and would need the truck more often. And then he came home one night saying he took on more gigs. “Sorry babe, I really need the truck. And right now, that’s where the money comes from so... I need it more than you right now. You know how it is.”

“What happened to saving for another car? I thought you had like eight hundred dollars, and you were looking into a down payment in another six months or something?”

“Lauren says we'll earn more money with better amps. So I bought better amps. It’s an investment though, you know?”

“Lauren? So you bought brand new amps because the singer in your band said you should?"

"Well, yeah."

"How much of that do you have left?"

"Well, nothing, I told you, we needed good amps."

"And you didn't even ask me. I thought we were budgeting together, Ethan. Why are you taking financial advice from Lauren? What about me? I’m your fiancée!”

“I know you are, and I love you, and you know that,” he said. “But I mean, it’s the band. The music’s gotta come first, you know?”

“Yeah I know,” she had said. And then they'd kissed. And she came out here to take a walk. Why didn't she feel better though? And why was she always doing that? Always agreeing with him? Always being The Cool Girlfriend? She was so cool she’d even forgiven him for sleeping with Lauren three months ago, especially when he’d pointed out he’d already said sorry. And he had. And he was right, she couldn't just punish him forever, right? So she dropped it. Then he had proposed, so how could she stay mad?

And maybe if she saved up, canceled her Netflix and maybe tried to sell her old laptop or something, with enough things like that, she could get a down payment saved up for a car. That’s how they’d gotten the couch they needed. And the bed. And the truck, too, now that she thought about it. Well, ok, so if she did it before, she could absolutely do it again, and she’d be helping them both out. “I am a pretty cool girlfriend, he’s lucky to have me,” she said. “We’re lucky to have each other.” She tried to smile, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to.

Her legs ached. She’d walked a while trying to walk off her frustration. She sat down in the sand and dug her toes in as she watched the tide.

The waves rolled in and out, over and over. The white foam rolled and changed, dancing over the sand. It was hot out, but the ocean breeze made it less stifling than it was at the apartment. Everything felt less stifling out of their apartment.

She sighed.

With the next roll of the ocean, a wave deposited a tiny shell. Oh that’s cool, she said and reached out and picked it up. She looked inside. She screamed and dropped it in the sand. Something had looked back! It wasn’t just a shell. It was a hermit crab! She laughed at herself and picked it back up. “Aw I’m sorry buddy, you startled me,” she said to it gently. Two tiny eyes moved independently as it evaluated the level of threat she posed.

“Oh shit, I’m scaring you, aren’t I? Ok I’m not going to eat you, no worries, go back to your little crab life. Don’t mind me!” She set the crab down and as she did so, it clamped itself tightly inside the shell. After she laid it down and just watched for a bit, the crab re-emerged and began walking along the wet sand. It walked a few steps, then dug a bit with its pincers. Then it walked a few more steps and did it again. A big log was not far off to the left. She looked down the beach in the opposite direction, and saw a flock of seagulls on the sand close to the water, pecking every time the waves rolled out.

“Let me help you a bit, ok buddy?” she asked the little crab.

She picked it up and took it to the log, which was quite large. There was a big shady spot right next to it, and tucked almost under it were several shells and some dried seaweed. She placed the crab gently in the shadow of the log and sat back and watched.

It waited. Then out it came, walked, felt around, walked, felt around. It approached a shell, and turned it over. The shell was a bit bigger than itself. Then it backed up away from it a couple steps. And it crawled right out of its shell!

She gasped then covered her mouth. She didn’t want to scare it! She didn’t know hermit crabs did this! She thought to herself that maybe she should’ve known... somehow? Because of course they grow, but..? She’d never thought of what they did when they grew. And now she saw... It dragged its tiny body confidently closer to the new shell it saw, backed itself into it and then... voila.

“You have a whole new look now, don’t you?!” she asked with an excited smile. “You were just carrying this?" she asked, and picked up the old shell. Empty. "And you just laid it down, huh? Because you needed a new, bigger layer. Well, congrats! It suits you much better, I'd say.” She touched her heart and sighed, so glad she got to see this.

She stood, swept her hands over her legs to wipe off the sand. And headed back to her apartment.

“Ethan,” she said when she walked in the door.

“Hey babe, what’s up?” he asked.

She reached for his hand, and he reached out to her. She placed the ring in his palm. “I don’t think this is working,” she said.

If I were a House

2020-02-02T07:03:54Z

I am a weird little multi-level house. Maybe like those houses in the Hollywood Hills. Hard to find. Around a curvy road. But the driveway is inviting, and roomy. Maybe, quite possibly, I am a house with a whole entire pretty-big lawn people could park next to, and even on. There is room for lots of friends and family. And there's an apple tree in the front yard.

The house itself has modern wood beams, loads of big wide windows, and some small decorative ones too, a few with stained glass. Some beams are metal. there are high ceilings, a tall roof, a green roof with solar panels, and next to those solar panels, a quaint patio with a small round table and two red chairs. On the table is a plant and two white candles in glass holders with rocks at the bottom of the holders.

The main door of the house is large, with a porthole sized round window at the top, but it's difficult to see inside. It is made of heavy wooden beams, with iron decorations. the key is metal, long, old-fashioned and curliqued, and it takes a series of locks to undo in order to get inside. The welcome mat has hedgehogs illustrated on it. The door only unlocks and opens when it wants to.

When you walk in the house, there is a large round mirror on the wall straight ahead, a wide staircase to an upper level that curls up and to the right, a large light-color-carpeted livingroom to the left that contains comfortable, soft couches, a few arm chairs, and a lovely dark brown piano. The kitchen is beyond the livingroom, lots of plants line the marble counter tops. Appliances are bright colors, blue, green, maybe orange or yellow. A coffee maker, a mixer, a kettle. There are hand made pottery dishes in open, door-less cabinets, and a black glass-top stove. An old clock hangs on the wall. There is a lovely countertop with some barstools that are rarely used, and just on the other side of that, a dining area with wooden floors, and a sliding glass door. The room is filled with light. On top of the dining area's wooden floors sits a deep red wooden picnic table, topped with a blue bowl filled with fresh fruit. The lamps on the wall look like old fashioned streetlamps. There's ample counter space, a big deep white sink and the walls are painted a friendly pale yellow.

There's a sitting room, too, with another comfy couch and a tv. Soft blankets and throw pillows adorn it. This room is darker. This room has a fireplace, a ship in a bottle, an old hand carved chess set, and a large tv. Bookshelves line the walls, floor to ceiling, and are filled with many interesting books, a few plants, a camera, and framed photos and art.

There's a bathroom on this floor, too, because of course there is. Who wants to walk up or downstairs for a bathroom? The bathroom has seashells, light blue walls, distressed-wood-framed photos of ocean waves and coral, and a soft white shower curtain. Or maybe no shower curtain. It's a stall, with many jets on the walls and one of those big round shower heads that pours on you like a rainforest deluge.

Next to the bathroom door is another door. This one leads to a stairwell that takes you down mildly creaky steps to a room a level below that smells musty, in a good way. Like old record albums and grandma's kindness. This room is filled with vinyl records, an old player, atop an old record stand. There are windows that let lots of light in here too, just not as much as upstairs. Knitted striped scarves hang over soft cushy green chairs. There's a music stand and flute in the corner. A large black lab will have followed you down here. Even through your socks, you can feel how soft and squishy the carpet is. There's a large antique writing desk almost in the corner, and in the actual corner is a plant stand with a leafy friend sitting, absorbing the natural light, photosynthesizing.

Go out of this room, across the short hall, which is not carpeted, into another room, and the dog will follow you here too. This is something completely different. Large walls are covered in blue background paint, with many clouds, balloons, and hot air balloons, and rainbows, all painted across them. There are framed artistic portraits, photos of me, Homer, and friends, on amusement park rides, framed printouts of excellent quotes in interesting fonts. There are at least 3 huge bean bag chairs on the carpet, and colorful cushions, and mats. The moment you walk in you want to laugh or do a somersault or both. There's a trampoline, and it's fun to bounce. There's a dressup corner with feather boas and goofy sunglasses on the wall. There's a mirror with orange swirly edges, so you can see yourself smile.

There's a door that you can't really see, you just have to know where the outline is in the blue, a bit camouflaged. If you press it, it opens, and the room you enter is dark. There are paintings of red lips and vampire teeth. You're pretty sure a vampire lives here, actually. Where's the coffin? The walls are dark lace patterns on a rich shiny amber colored background, and there are maroon curtains hanging in various places. But no windows. There's an aquarium with a tarantula. Bats hang from the ceiling. There is an arm chair, sleek, shiny leather. A few skeletons and skulls sit on floating shelves on the wall, and inside an old mahogany curio cabinet. There are bottles whose insides shimmer.

If you look closely, there's a black steel ladder against the back wall. Climb, and you may climb all the way to the roof, which has green moss growing over most of it, and a hot air balloon parked next to the chimney, as well as the aforementioned solar panels and tiny dining patio. If you climb back down, you'll come to a tower that is the shape and size and striped black-and-white coloring of a lighthouse. Inside the room (you climb in through the balcony, drift in through the wispy white curtains), you see many large circular windows, a very tall ceiling, a small wooden floor, and a quaint bed covered in white sheets, and a very soft thin blue blanket. There's a wooden green night stand next to it, a small lantern atop it, about 5 books on the shelf. Inside the small drawer is a notebook and pen.

If you tug on the rope tucked under the bed, you'll see it's attached to a trap door space next to the bed, and you can just pull that up, and start climbing down the spiraling wooden staircase. You'll be back on the ground floor in no time. Three well behaved cats and the black lab will happily curl up with you on the green velvet sofa with all your very soft blankets and books. So will a tiny chihuahua, and if you hold very still, an African Grey and flock of 3 caiques and 3 cockatiels will come on out and hang out for a bit too and will not poop on anything. Out back through the sliding glass door of the kitchen is a huge yard, green grass, a view of mountains, and a few horses and goats who love to roam and frolick when they're not in the big red barn. Farther back is a tropical forest, protected and safe, with many friendly monkeys of all kinds, and parrots too.

It's a house of peace, cozy, quiet, old fashioned, antique, cute, whimsical, fun, funny, dark, scary, amazing thoughts. A nature loving, craft and art loving, love-loving, book loving, story centric, photography focused, bizarre part of the world, with some twists and turns, and creaks, and oddities. And perhaps it is all just a little bit unexpected. Or maybe it seems exactly right.

Second Chance Idol !

2020-01-27T19:58:44Z

Hello! Yep, definitely joining Second Chance Idol! :D

months / leap day / etc

2020-01-09T04:32:13Z

Saw this on Reddit today and enjoyed the summary:

=============

u/Very-Fishy
257 points
·

Originally the roman calendar had 10 months and (supposedly) some boring winter that wasn't named (because it was insignificant with regards to agriculture):

Month of Mars (the war god)/March

(Possibly) Month of Aphrodite (the love goddess)/April

(Possibly) Month of Maia (the spring goddess)/May

Month of Juno (the supreme goddess, sisterwife of Jupiter)/June

Month of Quintilis (the 5. month)/July

Month of Sextilis (the 6. month)/August

Month of September (the 7. month)/September

Month of October (the 8. month)/October

Month of Novembris (the 9. month)/November

Month of December (the 10. month)/December

Bonus: Boring winter until the calendar fits. Rinse. Repeat.

King Numa (700 BC) is credited with reforming the system and dividing "winter" into 2 months:

Month of Janus (the god of beginnings and time)/January

Month of "dies Februatus" (=Lupercalia, a festival)/February

He also

Added a "leap month" (Mercedonius/Intercalary month) that was (supposed to be) added after February every 2-3 years, to "recalibrate" the year and

Moved the new months to the start of the year, (screwing up the numbering inherent the names).

Julius Caesar reformed the system in 46 BC, removing the "leap month" between February and March (it was being misused for political shenanigans) by making some months longer than before.

To calibrate the calendar, a single "leap day" was inserted every 4 years where the "leap month" was before, which is why February still gets the "leap day".

To celebrate, he appropriated Quintilis and renamed it "Month of Julius"/July. (Not really though: it was Marc Anthony that had Julius Caesar's birth month Quintilis renamed in his honour, after the assassination).

Augustus had to make a minor leap year reform (because the romans counted inclusively, the priests had erroneously added a leap year every three years instead of every fourth). In 8 BC a referendum renamed Sextilis to "Month of Augustus"/August to honour Augustus.

Summa summarum, our months are named:

1 Beginnings

2 Obscure festival (sometimes with vestigial leap month)

3 War

4 Love (we think)

5 Spring (we think)

6 Supreme mother

7 Julius Caesar

8 Caesar Augustus

9 Seventh

10 Eight

11 Ninth

12 Tenth

Makes sense, right?

LJ Idol S11: Week 10: Open Topic

2020-01-05T22:22:22Z

Sienna cradled the tinder in her cupped hands like a small bird. She held it near her lips and whispered: fieri. Her voice echoed inside her head in unison with 1000 other voices that whispered with her. A light breeze blew through the forest as tiny leaves trembled all around her. A small orange spark ignited in the center of the tinder, and her lips curled into a knowing smile. She laid the bundle of tinder on the ground within the circle of rocks she had laid out. She laid some kindling on top of it and blew a slow steady breath. A bright orange flame stood up and caught hold of the kindling, just as Sienna laid some logs on top. And they said it couldn’t be done. That no 12 yr old baby witchling could handle herself in the shaded wood on the road to Alimazier. But here she was, handling herself.

She would show all of them what she was made of.

The air rumbled in the distance. Vibrations rolled through the ground through the soles of her feet. She put out her hands to steady herself. The growing fire she’d just conjured went out in a flash. Black clouds swirled overhead blocking out the last of the dusk light, shifting the wooded region into pitch black night. Sienna thought she heard laughter and an icy shudder ran down her spine.

Winter's Longest Night

2019-12-21T21:21:07Z

Something I wrote today:

= = = = = = =

Can you feel it?
The heft in the soft inky ebony
that has wrapped around us this season?
A fleece of comfort to block out the noise and bustle
of life,
the stillness
the silence
so we each can sit in soft comfort with ourselves.

Deep in the womb of the earth,
seeds and mammals sleep,
slowly, slowly,
life grows on.
In the Spring as the light shines, we cheer the arrival of blossoms
and don't always think of the itty, teensy, tiny,
imperceptible
growth
that brought us here,
the growth in the dark.

In the dark, we hear our dreams.
In the dark, we know our hearts.
In the light, we will dance as pink petals fall from cherry trees,
knowing that the sweet deep molasses of winter's night
held us in her grace
and made it all possible.

LJ Idol S11: Week 9: Glass Cliff

2019-12-20T00:56:31Z

Lyla quickened her pace as she made her way to History class. She knew she shouldn't be late, especially today, the day of the pop quiz on the Great Gnome War of 1712. But something caught her attention in her periphery. Silas's hand left the board, right by a thumb tack, and she thought she heard him chuckling about something. Was that a new bulletin? She never got to see those when first posted! And she'd missed quite a few cool clubs or extracurricular classes. Like the time someone had posted about growing a pixie-attracting garden, and all the spots had been filled before she'd even gotten a chance to log online and sign up. No way was that happening again this time.

She edged her way in front of a tall boy who was probably on one of the sport teams, and squeezed through a couple of younger sprouts, also known as first-years. Sure enough, there was a new bulletin!

It read:

Attention Students, Years 7 & 8. We are announcing a special opportunity!
Dragon Internship Available
Must be earning top grades.
Prerequisite: Beginning Mythical Animal Husbandry
If interested, please see Professor Strumwidge by 13 December

Oh, that was definitely happening! She pulled out her amethyst disc and swiped it over the bulletin to save the info inside. It was so handy to have this newest magical technology. Her mom said they didn't even use discs when she was a kid! Too weird.

The halls of the school were nearly empty now. Better get to history before the bells!

* * *

"Hey Keeley," said Lyla as she approached Professor Strumwidge's room after school.

"Hey! Oh, hey, how was your Gnome quiz? I think I did ok, but I could not remember the general's name who lead his groups over to Beacon Hill."

"General Plumfoot?"

"Ahhh, that's it! Dang it. I wrote Petal... shoot. Anyway, hey are you going to ask about the Dragon Internship?"

"Absolutely!" Lyla said.

"Great, me too, ooh I hope we get to do it together!!"

"That would be the best!"

They took their seats and listened to Professor Strumwidge, a tall, lanky, handsome woman with a sharp angled nose and high cheek bones. Her hair was curled, and she looked sternly at the large group of interested students.

"I thought that bulletin board might pull in the lot of you," she said with a sigh. "Eeeeveryone wants to be with the dragons. I can't imagine why..." she said softly, as if to herself, though they could all hear her. Did she know they could hear her? Lyla wondered.

Professor Strumwidge continued. She outlined the necessary tasks, that there would be a great deal of mucking stalls, chopping fish heads and grinding them up into paste for the baby dragons. "Oh, right, did I mention? These dragons are just newly hatching this week."

Lyla and Keeley's eyes met. "Oh my god," mouthed Lyla.

"Right??" mouthed Keeley back.

"There will be two shifts. The first three months, the baby dragons mostly need socialization, some training, grooming, and wrangling. And feeding. Lots of feeding. The second three months they'll be training for the aerial competition. If you'd like the first shift, raise your hands now."

Lyla's and Keeley's hands shot up. Lyla looked around, and saw that Silas, Elliott, Ray, and Clark all had their arms crossed across their chests. Brennan was the only boy raising his hand among the group of 5 girls also with their hands up.

"Oh, that's about... half of you. That works, then. You six on the first shift, you 4 on the second shift."

She told them all when to come back and who to report to on their first day.

In the hall, Lyla and Keeley talked excitedly together, thrilled that they actually got it! As they passed by the boys, Lyla overheard them.

Silas snorted and said to Clark, "Ha! Awesome. We'll just let the girls handle all the baby stuff! Then we'll get to do the badass stuff."

"Totally," Clark said with a laugh and they bumped their fists together.

Lyla scowled. Oh, so that's how it was going to be, eh? "We'll see about that," she whispered.

This has been an entry for the writing competition, therealljidol. Prompt: Glass Cliff

LJ Idol S11: Week 7: Feckless

2019-11-25T19:07:34Z

If you're going to stay in my house, you could at LEAST make yourself useful. Here I am, taking my child to school, doing dishes, walking the dog, folding clothes, and what do you do? Sit there all day, like a lump, just smoldering on the couch? I do the laundry, you've got the tv on, I cook meals, you've got crumbs everywhere, I take the trash out, and come back to more piles of trash. I know, I know, ok? I called you here. But that was an accident! And I've kindly asked you to leave. And I've shouted at you to leave! I've bought garlic, I drew salt circles all around you, I tried the DE-summoning spell from the ancient purple spellbook. I don't know what more I can do, Demon!! I swear, you put one too many candles out, and start singing and dancing, trying to make the day a little nicer, accidentally kick over ONE bag of coffee grounds, and fine, yes, the spellbook, too, and then ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE!! Quite literally! You'd think you'd have that place more locked down, honestly. Look at this mayhem! Well, like I said, if you won't go, you can at least make yourself useful. Here, take it - a list of things that need doing. Here's a mop, here's a bucket. The bathroom needs washing. There's a plunger and scrub brush in there, too. Hop to it, then! Get on it!! That's right, get to cleaning!

Oh, NOW you're leaving???

= = =

This has been an entry for therealljidol. Prompt: Feckless.

Moon Cookies

2019-11-23T04:51:32Z

Someone posted this on one of my facebook groups, as a recipe to celebrate Woolfenoot tomorrow, 11/23. I have not tried/tested this at all, so can't attest to its quality, but here it is nonetheless in case anyone finds it helpful. :D

1 cup grated almonds (optional)
1 ¼ cups flour
¼ cup confectioner’s sugar
¼ cup butter
1 egg yolk

- Combine almond, flour, and sugar
- Work in butter and yolk
- Set in fridge to chill
- Roll out and cut into moon shapes (or use a cookie cutter)
- Bake at 320 F (160 C) for 20 minutes
- Sprinkle with sugar or honey on top once cooled

LJ Idol S11: Week 6: Solvitur Ambulando

2019-11-14T23:03:07Z

Memory is a fickle thing. It took ages today for bits and bobs to come back to me, to create a clear memory of how exactly I found out she died. I didn't even remember clearly at first, but I do now. It was Jessica's journal. She said something about it, so I messaged her, and she filled me in, let me know it was true that Sybil had passed.

A much clearer memory is of re-reading that last entry over and over. "Goodbye for now." And "See you on the flipside." She was only going into the hospital. But it somehow works as a goodbye message for life, too. She would've kept fighting forever if her body had let her. She called herself a glow ninja warrior. I loved that. More than "an internet friend" (as some people like to say, as if that means anything about the quality of the relationship), we were really good, close friends. We read each other's innermost reflections on LJ, and we talked on the phone fairly frequently, too. We sent stuff in the mail sometimes. She was my amazing, bright and glowy spiritual guru, someone I looked up to, my older and wiser friend.

She was 31 when she died. I knew that was way too young, of course, but at only 24, I'd always seen her as so wise and mature. And maybe that was more due to her personality than her age. I'll admit, though, it was weird for me when I reached my thirty-first birthday, then surpassed it. And to now be at a point in which that age seems really young to me is the strangest of all.

What I remember most clearly of all, though, is going to the ocean the day I found out. I needed it. My place. My sanctuary. The only place where anything could ever make sense.

My feet swished through the sand, one after another, as I walked the length of the beach. I also walked along the concrete walkway that spanned at least 20 miles of the coastline, so I knew, if I wanted to, I could walk for hours and not run out of walkway. Even Los Angeles gets cold sometimes, and this was one of those times. Gratitude or relief, or both, washed over me as I saw the empty sand, no people on a day like today, just waves dancing back and forth, and gulls and crows hanging around. Tiny cool droplets landed on my cheeks as I walked, the rest of me covered in the warmth and softness of my hoodie.

I didn't know what to feel. Relief that she wasn't in pain anymore? Pissed as fuck that I would never get to hear her voice again? Angry with myself for not trying harder to see her... I could've tried harder. We'd never met face to face, and she didn't want the first time to be until she was out of the hospital, no longer super sick, no longer fighting to get her own body to stop fighting itself. So I listened to her and waited, and then, when it was too late, felt like an ass for doing so. Goddamnit.

I walked, and I walked. And I stopped, and watched the ocean, and just breathed. Its constant dance, this way and that, lulled my anxiety down from fever pitch to a softer, gentler rhythm. Always there, but quieter, manageable. I remember holding first my nannying-job baby, then later, my nieces, and then my son, over the years. I hugged them close to my heart as they screamed, keeping my body and touch calm and rhythmic as I stepped left, right, left, right, and sang them the song of the ocean. "Shhhhh, shhhh, shhhh...." It was not to make them be quiet. Just to offer that song. That gift the ocean gave to me, I offer to these babies, that they may hear it and remember a calmer place within, a place where things are ok. Peaceful. Manageable. Spirits soothed.

I took home two tiny shells from the beach that day. I saw them at my feet, and bent down to inspect them. As I held them in my fingers, I noticed each was barely large enough to cover a finger tip each. They're white and purple, and have the most beautiful little imperfect lines, echoing their rounded shape over and over again.

I stood back up, admiring them in my hand. I looked up, and I laughed. You'd have thought I'd called a meeting of birds. Several gulls and crows had arranged themselves in a semi circle around me and watched me expectantly. As I chuckled, I wiped tears from my face with the sleeves of my hoodie. "I don't have anything," I said casually.

One of them argued with me. "SQUAWK!!!!"

I laughed again. I clutched the shells in my hand and looked to the bluish, gray, stormy skies and said with a voice that cracked, "Thank you." Was I talking to the Universe at large? Was I talking to Sybil? I know if she could have, she would totally send me pretty shells and birds to make me laugh. At the time, I think I felt pretty convinced she had, though I've grown even more atheist, secular, Buddhist, etc, in my beliefs since then. I'll always want to believe our friends and ancestors beyond the veil could be sitting, watching, helping, sending us things, signs, animals, guidance. Who knows? I don't really believe it. Not really. But it's a great story, so sometimes I suspend my disbelief for just a moment. Especially when I'm at the ocean. Especially when I can hear the water tell me shhhh, shhhh. Not to take away my anxiety. But to show me the path back to myself. My center. The core where things are manageable, ok, and quieter. It doesn't stay that way. Nothing is permanent, after all, as life has made quite clear.

But I like knowing that whenever I need it, I can go to the ocean,
listen to the song and wisdom of the water,
of my older, wiser friend,
feel the sand beneath my feet,
and believe, even for a moment,
that everything
is going
to
be
OK.....

= = =

~ This entry has been for therealljidol. Prompt: Solvitur Ambulando, Latin for "It is solved by walking." This entry is dedicated to my friend Sybil. Thanks for reading.

~ I just took a deep breath and summoned the courage to check. Her last entry is still there.

LJ Idol S11: Week 5 ~ Friends and Enemies

2019-11-04T22:53:49Z

“Oh, DRAT, and curses!” Ember shouted as she tripped for the eighth time that week over an old suitcase. It sat under a table, atop the bricks. A pathway of red bricks formed a circular ring around the grassy area, in the center of which sat a large cauldron, currently giving off quite the odd aroma as the brew came to a boil. This large yard, with a circle of bricks around a circle of grass was Ember's backyard patio, where she performed most of her spellwork. It seemed the best spot to set up, for the view of the moon at midnight high in the sky, centered amongst all the towering trees, was a sight to behold indeed. Of course, these circles really were more of a slightly oval shape than a nice precise circle, but Ember supposed the spirits could see it in their hearts to forgive her, as long as her intent was good. Anyway, the suitcase which held all manner of bottles and herbs sat tucked away under one of the side tables, but not tucked far enough away, clearly. She could have sworn she put it all the way back, yet here she was, tripping again. At least she hadn’t fallen this time.

As for good intentions, today had been a struggle to keep her intentions calm and clear. She was trying to brew a new batch of mugwort and agrimony, in hopes of sprinkling it around her home and workspace to dispel the negative energies that had been collecting. That must account for most of the troubles that had been going on lately.

At least, she hoped that was the reason. The only other explanation would be that the faeries were still holding a grudge.

She felt relieved to see bubbles beginning to form. This batch had had a rough start. First the wood wouldn’t light under the cauldron, then when she used a fire spell, the fire blazed so strongly, and so suddenly, it nearly singed her eyebrows straight off! She’d had to call Woodlan over to breathe onto it for her. She always tried not to bother him until after noon at least, since she knew he spent his mornings focused on breakfast. (He hunted for trout in the nearby stream every day, and he was very focused.) But what was a young witch to do when her fire incantations backfired so? Plus, she made it worth his while, because she always gave him his favorite- oh no! She’d forgotten his favorite honeycomb treats, again!

“Woodlan! Wood! Please come here, boy!” Ember shouted up into the trees. “Where has that dragon gone?” she muttered to herself. She turned and started rifling through her tote bag. Now where could that jar of honeycombs have gone, too?

A huge crash erupted behind her. Ember jumped at the noise and spun around. The green dragon about the size of a large dog had landed smack in the middle of her work table.

“Woodlan! What are you doing?? Get down from there! I called you here to give you the honeycombs from earlier, but I just don’t know if I should, if you’re going to be careening around the magical circle so carelessly!” she snapped at him.

He glared at her as only a dragon could, and slowly stepped down. He sighed with an impetuous groan. A puff of smoke and small flames briefly shot out of his nostrils.

Ember took a deep breath. “Woodlan, I’m sorry, it’s just been a day... Do you want your treat now? I’ll give it to you, of course, I’m sorry I forgot this morning.”

Woodlan tilted his head back, roared, and didn’t budge an inch.

“Oh so now you’re cross with me too? First the faeries are all in a huff over the faery ring debacle, and now my own dragon won’t even look at me?”

Woodlan hung his head and grumbled.

“Not even for... chicken livers?” she offered.

Woodlan perked his head up.

Ok, this might appease the cranky dragon, she thought. She pulled out the suitcase with all the herbs and bottles, and reached back behind it for the tiny barrel. As she pulled it into her lap, then yanked the lid open, she heard a splash behind her. The batch of potion!! Suds and foam bubbled over the side of the cast iron cauldron, splashing onto the ground and backsplashing onto the fire itself. Ember jumped up, shouting, “No, no, no!” startling Woodlan, who jumped back and flapped his wings. Tiny glass bottles fell over, some that rolled right off the table and shattered on the bricks below. She tripped on the suitcase again, stumbled into the barrel, which she kicked straight past the cauldron. Chicken livers and juice splashed wildly all over the ground. Woodlan’s eyes alighted and he jumped and landed heavily right next to her, practically inhaling all of the tasty livers at once.

Ember grabbed a jug of moon enhanced water and poured it over the few remaining flames the potion hadn't quite put out yet, and the bubbly potion soon died back down.

It was probably ruined. She'd have to start again.

Ember looked at the tote bag, and reached in. From under the feathers and pine cones, she pulled out the jar of honey comb, thought for a moment, then said out loud, "Faeries, I'm sorry. Would YOU like a treat too? Can I make it up to you?" She was sure going to try. Now where did she put those saucers, and the sheeps' milk??

= = =

This has been an entry for therealljidol. Prompt: Song quote: “My enemies are all too familiar. They're the ones who used to call me friend."

LJ Idol S11: Week 4: Impossible

2019-10-25T21:16:59Z

"Be brave," he said. And he pushed at the small of my back.

I watched myself put my tiny foot in my tiny black sneaker (tiny compared to his anyway), white laces threatening to unravel, onto the unsteady plank.

A coldness gripped my heart, an icy cold that ran down my legs and froze my foot in place.

"C’mon. You can do it, Junie. Remember what Mom always said? 'You can do anything-'"

"'You set your mind to,'" I finished the sentence with him. The warmth of my Mama's words as they passed through my lips, through time, melted the ice within.

I closed my eyes and sucked in a sharp breath of crisp Autumn air through my nose. Pushed peanutbutter-tinged breath slowly through my lips. And as though it were someone else’s, slung my other foot out in front of the first one. The wood wobbled and wavered, this makeshift narrow bridge between banks. A rushing swollen creek underneath the creaking boards. And then? I ran. I don’t remember how but my feet decided if we were doing this at all we were going now. And fast!

At the end of the plank, I jumped, and landed in the dirt with both feet. A small squish sound as the mud came up around the soles. I knelt and made bunny ears and tied them tight. As I stood up my legs shook. And a smile crept over my lips. I looked at Ethan who nodded approvingly. He came over next. His long legs reached farther, and he made it over in three steps. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Atta girl, Junie, ok, c'mere," Ethan said. He took my elbow gently in his hand and crouched a little as his eyes scanned the forest.

"My feet hurt, Ethan," I said.

"Hush, now. I know. You've been doing real good. We're almost there."

"Will it really be safe there?"

"So long as we stick together, we got this. I heard it hasn't gotten north of the river."

"People aren't sick up there?"

"Right."

"Are we gonna get sick?"

"Not if we just get North, Junie-girl. But that's why we just gotta keep pressing on..."

"I miss Mama," I said.

Ethan stopped scanning and looked me right in the eyes. "Me too." After a beat, he said, "Ok, now, c'mon," and took a few steps. The dry, golden leaves crackled under our feet. We hadn't got far, really, when Ethan stopped and put his hand on me. We ducked down low, and creeped over to the nearest tree. I looked up at him, and he put his finger on his lips to tell me to stay quiet. I nodded, as my heart pounded in my chest, like a rabbit trying to escape.

Still crouching, Ethan reached into his boot, and slid out the shiny pistol. He took the smaller gun out of his hoodie pocket, and placed it in my hand. He wrapped my fingers around it. The sound he'd heard, I could hear now too. The moaning, gurgling hum of them. They were getting closer.

"I can't.." I said softly.

"They're already gone, Junie. They aren't people anymore, not really. C'mon. You remember what else Mama said, right?" he whispered.

I listened to the raspy gurgles, and the swish-swish sounds they made as they walked that funny way through the leaves. Real, regular people sounded like swish..swish..swish.. The.. others? The sick ones... They went swish-swish, because I guess your legs don't work as good once you're dead.

"Junie?" Ethan said. "What did Mama tell us?"

"One to slow 'em down, two in the head, to stop 'em dead."

"Good girl. Ok, let's try to get out of here. Only use that if you have to," his voice was calm, mostly. I heard it shake a little, but pretended I hadn't. "C'mon let's try to get the hell outta here. We got this."

As the rasps and swish-swish sounds got louder, and we creeped silently, gripping the hard metal in the palm of my hand, I heard another sound - the whooosh of rushing water, bigger than before... I stayed right next to my brother, and we pushed on towards the river.

= = =

This has been an entry for therealljidol. Prompt: Impossible

LJ Idol S11: Week 3. Everything Looks Like a Nail

2019-10-15T17:39:38Z

James had awoken not long after his Papa. He pulled a stool over to the counter, and climbed gingerly up to the counter. He put the coffee beans in the grinder, then the grounds in the pour-over above the mug.

He inhaled the scent of the coffee as he wandered out past the barn, and blearily rubbed his eyes as the first rays lit the sky in streaks of gold. His breath and the hot coffee formed clouds in front of him as he walked. He could hear his Papa's hammering already.

"Mornin', Pop," he said as he came around the back of the barn to his Papa's workspace.

"Hey there, bud," his Papa said, and set down his tool. He held out his hand for the warm mug. "Thanks."

"Sure thing."

"Can you go milk Lulu, and collect the eggs?"

"Yep!" James said and scampered around and inside the barn. The scent of sweet hay and manure filled the air. James grabbed the bucket and tiny stool and set them up under and next to Lulu, respectively. "Hey Lu!" he said and gave her a friendly rub. She mooed. He laughed. "My hands are still warm, so no worries, ok?" he said. He sat on the stool, took the teats in each hand, and milked. The sound of sprays against metal one after the other felt so satisfying.

When he scootched the stool back, he heard a squeak. He stopped and listened.

Lulu mooed again.

"Hush, girl," he said.

More squeaks. He picked up the bucket and set it by the door, then listened intently for the source of the tiny sounds. He found them under the willow tree, a huddle of three stark white pups. James gasped in awe. "Hi doggies," he said softly. He reached out and touched them, two still, stiff, and cold. But one, the one underneath the other two, mostly hidden, was warm and wriggly and squeaking. He scooped up the warm one, and tucked it into his shirt against his chest. "I'm sorry about your brothers or sisters," he said softly, and pulled some dried grasses and branches over their bodies. "But don't worry, I got you." He ran over to the bucket of Lulu's milk and dipped a finger in, then offered it to the puppy, who suckled his finger eagerly. James laughed.

"James?" called his Papa.

"Comin'!" he called.

As he rounded the bend, his Papa saw him and set down the hammer again. "James, what are you doing? Where's the milk?"

"I milked her, I got it. I just gotta go back and get-"

"What is in your shirt?"

"Look, Papa!" he said, and untucked the puppy and showed his father. The puppy, eyes still closed, squeaked in confusion being away from the security of James's warm chest. James put her back inside his shirt.

His Papa sighed.

"What? What's wrong?" James asked.

"Those are the all-white pups," he said. "The Brenner Family? Two houses down? They let their dogs wander, one of them always gets with the Thomsons' dogs, and whenever the white pups are born, they're... well they never turn out right."

"What's wrong with 'em? This one seems fine," James said defensively.

"They're blind, usually. Or deaf. Or both? What are you gonna do with a blind or deaf dog? You can't train 'em. They could bite folks. Best just to let 'em go."

"But... I saved this one. It's the only one that made it."

"Just put him back, James, that's how it's done with these things."

"What, what do you mean?"

"It's what we always do: You scare the mom off if you see her, and bury the pups."

James jaw fell in shocked horror. He scowled, and held his hands protectively over the bulge in his shirt, the tiny body breathing tiny soft breaths against his skin. "But WHY? Why's that 'always' what we do? I saved her, I oughta get to keep her! PLEASE, Pop!"

His Papa looked at him with a sad, knowing expression. "All right," he said softly. "You can see how it goes. That dog ever bites you though, that's it. I won't have a dog bitin' up my kid."

"She's not gonna bite me! Thanks, Pop!" James said excitedly, and hurried away.

"Hey! You remember that milk, and don't forget your chores!"

"I won't! I mean, I will, and I won't! I'll get the milk!" James shouted awkwardly as he ran towards the barn door where he'd left the bucket.

* * *

James woke up to the sound of the roosters crowing, and Lulu bellowing from the barn. Those roosters had only hatched a few weeks ago, and were already used to making a ruckus each morning. James sat up and glanced out the window. The apple tree blossoms looked like they'd be growing fruit any day now. He smiled at the foot of his bed. What had been such a teensy bundle the day he found her was now taking up most of the bottom third of his twin bed. "Hey girl," he said softly, even knowing she couldn't hear him. He talked to her all the time, though some said it was useless. Sure, she was different, but he still felt like it'd be wrong not to talk to her, just as he would any animal. He blew a soft breath towards her face and said, "Wake up, now, Belle. Time to get started." She slowly blinked open her eyes, then, as always, recognition dawned and she hopped up, and spun in circles. He laughed and pet her super soft head and ears. "C'mon!" he said and waved his arm in invitation on his way to the kitchen. Belle stayed close by his side. He showed her his hand quite close to her face, and then pointed down. She sat dutifully, and he gave her a thumbs up. She continued sitting, and waited patiently as he prepared the coffee. Then when he waved to her again, she hopped up and followed right next to him as he delivered the coffee to his Pop.

Papa smiled at them both. "Morning, you two," he said.

"Morning, Pops!"

"Gonna go milk Lulu?"

"Yep, we're heading there now."

"All right, sounds good. Thanks, son," he said.

"Thanks, Pop," James said.

Belle laid down next to James and rested her chin on the top of his boot while he milked Lulu. Maybe later, they'd go for a walk along the creek. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

* * *

This has been an entry for therealljidol. Prompt: Everything Looks Like a Nail.

LJ Idol S11: Week 2. Living Rent Free In Your Head

2019-10-07T19:33:44Z

What a day. Phew. This job can really take a lot of you. Not just physically, but mentally too. It took so much concentration, and coordination... But honestly, once the day was done, you really couldn't beat the view. I reached down into the mini fridge just to the side of the left round window and grabbed a beer. I popped the cap off and put the bottle opener back, magnetized to the fridge. I put my feet up on the bottom curve of the round window and watched out of that one, and the one next to it, as the sky turned firey orange and gold, then settled into soft pinks and purples. Once I'd finished my beer, I put it in the small recycling bin, grabbed a pouch of Gruel, and downed that real quick.

Some marketing dude thought it was funny mixing "great" and "fuel" into a portmanteau, trying to poke fun at themselves for this bland crap. The stupid jingle played through my head. "It's great, it's fuel, it won't make you drool, but it gets you through your busy day. GRUEL!" So stupid... Catchy, though, somehow. MechTech, my new job I've been working for, provided tons of it. So I've always got something to get me through the day and don't really have to think about cooking or whatever.

And things can get boring in the evening, but... I mean, it's work, right? Gotta pay the bills somehow.

I pushed a button on the wall, and my bed lowered down from the ceiling. I crawled in, and looked out the windows. Well, the eyes, if we're being technical about it. I look out through my giant mech's head every day. At night, when I'm not working, I try to pretend they're just round windows, and forget about the dashboard of infinite buttons that fire all kinds of missiles and whatnot.

I rubbed my shoulder as I laid on my side, tired from maneuvering the arms of the mech all day. I looked out the mech eyes, as I did each night, and I waited for mine to close, for sleep to come. This was definitely a strange job, and even stranger to live at work. But hey, no rent, no grocery shopping. Just driving a giant robot around during the day, firing at "the bad guys", constructing new buildings, and watching gorgeous sunsets each night. Not a bad life, overall, I guess. Only two more years left in my contract, anyway, and then? Maybe I'll find another gig, another place to live. Wherever I go, I think I'll still look for a place with round windows, and an awesome view.

This has been an entry for therealljidol.

Link for Writers - Imposter Syndrome

2019-09-30T17:31:27Z

This is an incredibly good read and made me feel a lot better. I mean, if Maya Angelou can feel like a fraud when it comes to writing, then.... we self conscious, doubtful writers are in good company!!

How to Overcome Imposter Syndrome

I'm on steps 3 and 4, I guess.

2019-09-30T01:23:07Z

I submitted my novel to Pitch Wars. I could hear a request from any of the mentors to read the entire manuscript at any time. Or not. I'll know on November 3rd who was chosen to have writing mentors and go through the revision process together.

That is so long!!!

I'm currently:

a) lamenting naming my piece Fantasy Portal novel. I'm not sure it's accurate. :( I THINK I DID THE APPLICATION PART WRONG D: D: D: ;_;

b) maybe my whole novel suuuucks.....

It probably still needs so much work to be better. Or for me to feel really good about querying it to someone else. I was feeling pretty awesome about it a few days ago and today I'm like "THIS IS ALL SHIT".

It's all part of the process though right?

siiiiiiiiiiiggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh.........

writing is hard. I need to do more of it and get even better. Right now I feel like this particular novel may need to be a wash and I should just focus on writing another one. Or maybe I should focus on writing another one AND keep revising this one. That'd probably be the smartest course of action.

Anyway, just needed a moment of freakout. Thanks for listening!

LJ Idol S11: Week 1. Resolution

2019-09-26T17:53:40Z

Ok, today's the day. I'm going to do it. I am. I don't know HOW I'm going to do it yet, but I just feel the possibility in my bones. No, wait - The certainty.

How can it be so close, and yet so far? That glorious yellow orb, out in the open. I know I can get to it. I must, afterall. It just feels like some invisible barrier is blocking me. I let out a small sigh and concentrate on it. I need a plan, I think. A path. But what can I-

OH MY GOD, the forcefield! It's gone! I can, I can DO IT, aaaaah this is amazing!!! I'm doing it, I'm on my way! Only with sheer grit and determination can I reach my goals!

Almost there!

Oh my god, I have it. I really have it. In MY possession! My glowing treasure!! I've never been so happy.

Savoring this moment, I turn my gaze. There she is - my love. Watching me, standing still in the distance, a small, sweet smile on her face.

I run to her, faster, and faster, and I show her. Look, my love. Be proud of me, my sweet, for I have achieved that which I set out to do. I finally have it. I was able to traverse the terrain, and get hold of this miraculous, beautiful--

WHAT.

WHY would you throw that, Carol?? How could it just fall from your grip so easily, you have to be more careful dear!

Well. It's ok. It's OK! I can do it. I can get it again. I can make my way over this hill, through these narrow pathways, to get it once more.

Whew. All right. I am back. And now, be careful this time, my love. Hold it gently. See, like I am. You know, maybe don't hold it? Let me place it here by your feet, just look at it from there. Because it seems like every time you touch it, you just-- There it goes again.... I'll be right back.

So, ok, so, this time, just... WOW. Are you serious right now? You are REALLY BAD at holding things, Carol. This is a treasure of utmost value, beyond any imagining, and you're being so animated in your movement that, I hate to say it, but I really think you're possibly incapable of handling something so precious. It's so ridiculous, I'd almost think you were doing it on purpose... Imagine! THE AUDACITY!

Ok, well, now I have to go get it again, journey far across the yard, through the grasses and lawn gnomes, and you're.. What? What are you asking me? Carol, I told you before. I am a good boy. You have to try to remember these things, dear. Now let's focus, I'm going to have to try this again. I accept my fate. It is my destiny, after all.

I shall do it. Here goes nothing.

I am on my way, here I come, Yellow Orb of the Grass Realm! Never fear, I shall rescue you once more!

Ok, now Carol, I love you, and I am trusting you, you understand that, right? I want you to hold this, and look at its beauty, marvel over it with me, and-

JESUS CHRIST, CAROL, NOT AGAIN!!!

= = = =

This has been an entry for therealljidol competition. The prompt was "Resolution"

LJ Idol S11: Week 0. Introduction :)

2019-09-14T03:51:54Z

In an old house in South Carolina, a mother looked out the window to see her daughter, red curls alight in the sun, dressed in overalls, raising her fist to the fence. "YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME, BOY??!" the 3 yr old shouted through the fence in response to the next-door neighbor-child's taunts. The mother smirked. You tell 'im, she said softly.

* * *

In second grade, in suburban Texas, a fellow second grader asked the girl with red curls, "What church do you go to?" by way of introduction, as was the norm.

"We don't go to church," the redhead said matter of factly.

The other girl looked positively scandalized. She touched her tiny gold cross hanging around her neck and said, "Well... Have you let Jesus into your heart??" She looked hopeful.

The redhead creased her brows at the strange girl. "Pfft... How would that even WORK? Jesus is a MAN. My heart is like this big," she mimed her hands close together. "How would a grown man even FIT in there?!"

* * *

In second and in fourth grade, there was a lot of hand washing. A LOT of hand washing. A lot of worry. A lot of asking younger brother not to tell their parents or older brothers about the fear of touching certain toys that had been touched by a kid she didn't like. A lot of hidden confusion. Eventually, a diagnosis of OCD. And a lifetime of struggling to understand it, feeling both upset at being plagued by it, and guilty for feeling bad about it, because it "wasn't as bad" as what others had to deal with. Feeling afflicted and not, all at once.

Minimizing it. Learning to cope with it.

* * *

7th grade was the Year of The Hamsters. "Mom can we get this one?"

"Are you really going to take care of it?"

"YES I PROMISE!!!"

[6 days later]

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"What?!!? What's wrong?! What's wrong?!?!"

"NOTHING!!!!!! MY HAMSTER HAD BABIES!!! THERE ARE SO MANY BABIES!!! THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!!!!!!"

"Oh... jesus christ.... really? Oh no, oh my god...."

"THE BESSSSSSSST!!!"

Two of them sadly passed in the first two days. The rest did wonderfully. I kept studious notes on all their behavior on a long yellow legal pad for the six weeks I raised them. Homes were then found for 8 of the babies. We kept the remaining two. (Who lived for 4 years!)

Just like we kept the cat that followed us to our car in the bookstore parking lot. And the puppy who our friends found and gave to us to find a home for. And the dog we saw hit in the street, so my mom stopped and had the woman who'd accidentally crashed into the dog load the dog into our car so we could take her to the vet, and take good care of her.

At one point there were 6 cats, 4 dogs, 2 chinchillas, 4 hamsters and 3 guinea pigs at home.

My horse lived at a stable.

* * *

But what about the notebooks? So many notebooks. So many fiction books. Reading, writing, writing in journals, writing poetry in school binders when the teacher's drone threatened to lull us to sleep. Writing fiction. Lots and lots of fiction. Lots of procrastinating too. But an ever present love of words, that much was for sure.

* * *
dooooooooooooo, beep beep beep boop boop beep!
....weeeeeeee-errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-BEEEEEEEP-ka-BONG-ka-BONG...KKSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH..........

"Check it out!" little brother beamed proudly.

"That's... wait, is that it? Are you sure?"

"YES, that's IT! This is the internet!!"

15 yr old me stared at the screen. "But nothing's moving."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing's moving, like, aren't words supposed to be scrolling or something?"

"This isn't a CHAT ROOM, it's the WHOLE INTERNET!" he said with exasperation, waving wildly at the words "Netscape Navigator" on the screen. He was 13, and he'd just set it up completely by himself, linking us to the entire worldwide web, and we?

Well, we, Mom and I, that is, we both looked again. And Mom said, "How does it work? Are you sure this is it?"

"Oh my god, you guys," he whispered, and rubbed his hands down his face. This was going to take more time and patience than he'd predicted.

* * *

I met my husband on that internet!

And lots of friends, too, for that matter!

* * *

And along with some of those friends, I worked with lots of animals. A lemur who used to lick the inside of my nostrils and enjoy receiving armpit scratches. I've fed hippos, pet an okapi, raked the tapir exhibit while said tapirs sniffed at my shorts with their prehensile noses. Most of this work was unpaid.

At the zoo where I actually was paid, there was a day I was scrubbing out the turtle pond. The turtles were locked away safely, the pond had been drained, I was wearing gloves and safety goggles and I was scrubbing algae away with bleach water.

An older man walked by and said to the little kid with him, "See? That's why you go to COLLEGE, so you can get a better job than that."

"I have a Bachelor's in Psychology and fought like hell to get this job!" I wanted to yell, but I just yelled it inside my brain, which has become a very, very longstanding habit. Nowhere near as outspoken as I was at 3, I guess!

That same week, I was standing with the goats in the goat yard outside the barn, making sure no one did anything they weren't supposed to (like riding them, feeding them rabbit food [yes, really]), and a woman said to me, "WOW, you have the BEST job in the world!"

It has always struck me as funny that I had such different reactions from the public on the exact same job, just based on different duties of the day. Zookeepers do all sorts of different stuff, y'all.

(An aside: I rarely actually say y'all. I may have lived in Texas, but my parents are from Philadelphia; I speak more like them, and "y'all" is not generally known as a Philly coloquialism.)

* * *

When I found out I was pregnant in my late 20s, I walked over to my friend's house two blocks away. This was one of my friends who knew how many years I'd hoped, waited, longed for this. And we both burst into happy tears when we hugged.

A different friend from LJ sent me a baby blanket.

And a different friend, also from LJ, sent me books for my baby. One of them ends with the lines: "We are so glad you've come," sang the people of the world.

When he did come, I held him in my arms. "We are so glad you've come," I said to him.

I really did say that. But first, I maaaayyy have said, "HOLY CRAP, baby!! We did it!! How about that?? We really did it, and here you are! Oh I love you, I love you so much..." And then, after a few minutes of staring in awe, I remembered the line from the book and recited it to him. Because I really am just as likely to yell HOLY CRAP as I am to say something more deep and reflective. (My doula told me she'd never heard anyone say "shit" or "jesus christ" as much as I had during my birth, and I was somewhere around her 67th client!)

* * *

A few minutes ago, I told that same baby boy (who has had the audacity to grow taller than my shoulder now, I'll have you know) not to get so sassy with me, and reminded him if he wants his cold to heal quickly, he ought to really pay attention to his bed time and stick to it, so he'll be rested enough to attend one of his best pal's birthday party tomorrow. They're in third grade now. They met on the first day of kindergarten, when they saw each other on the playground, and both talked about missing their moms, and then both broke down into tears together and shared a good cry. Such close buddies ever since. I love them.

* * *

Back when my son was 2, I nearly gagged looking at a tomato, and gleefully confirmed my suspicion with a positive pregnancy test. For 12 weeks, I planned and hoped and cried happy tears again, and fretted, but not overly so, and dreamed about what life with two was going to be like. I smiled as I laid one hand on my belly, and wrapped the other hand around my toddler, still nursing, still small enough to put the bottoms of his feet on the tops of my thighs as we slept side by side. I loved falling asleep like that.

But then, there was only one heartbeat whooshing on the scanner, and it was my own. People promised rainbow babies would come my way, but six years later, there hasn't been one. I could take extra steps to make it happen, but the adults in the home would BOTH have to be on board, and that's proved difficult. Likewise with talks of adoption. It's not really possible when the hopes and longing only occur in one half of the couple.

In the months after the miscarriage, my thoughts raced faster and faster, and sometimes I couldn't slow them. Sometimes the world felt entirely not-real. It scared me. So now I take a tiny beige pill daily, and it's helped. so. much.

* * *

Sometimes, at night, when it's dark, and sleep is soon to come, my little boy and I talk about life, death, video games, pets, my childhood, his childhood, and anything and everything in between. And when we listen to music, and his breathing deepens and he's sleeping like a rock (as he does), I kiss him one more time, and sneak out of his room. Sometimes I go back in and feed the lizard, because sometimes we forget until late. My son never wakes up when I do this. I even turn on the light, and he just stays sleeping. He's amazing. I think he's made me laugh every single day since he's been born.

* * *

These days I write when he's in school. And volunteer at the school. And at the zoo. I still get to give friendly goats happy scratches and rubs. This zoo doesn't pay me. But maybe it still is the best job in the world? Or close enough.

* * *

Often, when I'm out walking my dog, I look up at the sky and marvel at the moon and stars. Sometimes I still make wishes.

Book Meme

2019-09-07T09:24:52Z

snagged this from murielle and bleodswean :

= = =

I would wager that 99.9% of us are hardcore bibliophiles so this is a fantastic meme for us! Let's play! Comment with the # (or a few numbers!) you want me to answer.

1. What is your favourite book and/or book series of all time?
2. What is the longest book you have ever read? How many pages?
3. What is the oldest book you have ever read? (Based on its written date)
4. What is a book series that everyone else loves but you do not?
5. What book or book series would you like to see turned into a film/ TV series?
6. What is your favourite stand-alone book?
7. What is a book that you feel glad for not reading?
8. What is a book that you feel guilty for not not reading?
9. What is a book you have read that is set in your country of birth?
10. What is a book that you own more than one copy of?
11. What horror book made you really scared?
12. What book do you passionately hate?
13. What is the biggest book series you have read? How many books are in it?
14. What book gives you happy memories?
15. What book made you cry?
16. What book made you laugh?
17. What is your favourite book that contains an LGBTQ+ character?
18. Have you read a book with a male protagonist? What is it?
19. Have you read a book set on another planet? What is it?
20. Have you ever been glad to not finish a series? Which?
21. Have you ever read a book series because you were pressured?
22. What famous author have you not read any books by?
23. Who is your favourite author of all time?
24. How many bookshelves do you own?
25. How many books do you own?
26. What is your favourite non-fiction book?
27. What is your favourite children’s/middle-grade book?
28. What is your next book on your TBR?
29. What book are you currently reading?
30. What book are you planning on buying next?
31. What was the cheapest book you bought?
32. What was the most expensive book you bought?
33. What is a book you read after seeing the movie/ TV series?
34. What is the newest book you have bought?
35. What three books are you most looking forward to reading this year?
36. What is a book you love that has a terrible trope? (Love triangle, etc)
37. Have you read a book in a different language? What was it?
38. What is a book you’ve read that is set in a time period before you were born?
39. What book offended you?
40. What is the weirdest book you have read?
41. What is your favourite duology?
42. What is your favourite trilogy?
43. What book did you buy because of its cover?
44. What is a book that you love, but has a terrible cover?
45. Do you own a poetry anthology? What is your favourite poem from it?
46. Do you own any colouring books based off other books?
47. Do you own any historical fiction?
48. What book made you angry?
49. What book has inspired you?
50. What book got you into reading?

LJ Idol S11: Count me in!

2019-09-06T00:54:59Z

LJ IDOL SEASON 11?!?!?! I am sooooooooooo in!!!! Here we go!

ellison @ 2019-08-28T09:43:00

2019-08-28T16:44:39Z

Heading to the doc to get this splint off my hand!!

ellison @ 2019-08-19T01:00:00

2019-08-19T08:22:27Z

ok well they said i could write post surgery so here I am trying, this feels so weird! i just thought i'd ... yeah i am typing one handed now. this is much easier. lol! so, surgery went well. i am mostly doing just fine with bouts of frustration grumpiness and self pity. i,m also very tired. i kind of cant belueve im in the thick of all this. I feel bad like maybe i could have done more to prevent this? but anyway we're in the aftermath now so no need to go there i guess. i got really tired of just sitting around today so homer took a small walk with me to go get the mail which was nice.

i think i'll stop for now and just say that surgery went well, the pain is less than i expected, but sharp and not fun when it happens!, and the splint is just about, if not more, of a pain in the ass than i was expecting. ok back to resting! bye for now!

ellison @ 2019-08-14T11:28:00

2019-08-14T18:37:19Z

I have my first carpal tunnel surgery tomorrow. First up - right hand. It's the more damaged one. Good luck, right hand! (I'm so glad I'm left handed. Not that the left hand gets out of this either - just gotta wait about 6 or so weeks for that one...)

I'm trying not to be nervous, but OMG IT'S SURGERY!! ON MY HAND!!!!!!

Sure, it'd be scarier if it were my brain or my heart. But fuck... my hand! I need that! Deep down, I really do feel that it'll go great, and my hand will be better off than it even is right now. I'm just a little freaked out. Because, that's just how it is!

Deeeeeeeeep breaths are the name of the game today. And watching Lizzo's inspirational talks before concerts and getting all teary-eyed. hehe!

Joe ordered food on Amazon Prime yesterday so we got a bunch. I'm going to go get even more today so I just don't have to think about it for like a week or so. Joe got mostly snacks. Popcorn does not a dinner make. So I'm going to get meal stuff today.

I did the dishes already. I'm going to put fresh sheets on the bed today. And I'm going to sit on the couch and watch a LOT of TV over the next 48 hours while I recuperate!

I'll see y'all sometime next week once I feel comfortable typing again. Have a wonderful week, everyone!