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Friday, June 29, 2012

Wren's Adventure


Phillip pushed himself upright, against the walls of his prison.  He'd never imagined his most trusted adviser would turn against him, yet, it had happened.  He didn't know who he could trust or turn to for help.  Then, he recalled his dream.  A dream of a little bird, called a wren, coming to his rescue.

He wasn’t sure how he knew the bird’s name.  It wasn’t one he had ever heard of before but he knew, and that gave him hope.  Climbing the stone wall up to the narrow window, he called, “Come, little wren, come – help me!”

The voice startled her.  Standing, she looked around but could see no one.  As she brushed her knees off and exchanged seed packets, she heard his voice again, “Rescue me!”

“Where are you?” she looked about.

“I’m up here – in the tower.  Come wren, you can help me.  I know you can,” the voice pleaded with her.

“I’m coming!  But I can’t see you – keep talking!”

***

“Are you up there?”  It was the voice from his dream – the voice of the wren.  “I’ve come as far as I can.  This door won’t budge!”

She sounded scared.  Lost.  “It’s never been opened in my life time.”

“Is there any way you can pull up on it?” she asked.

“There is a ring on this side of the door,” he returned, “But I have tried it many times.  It does no good.”

“Pull it away from the hinges,” she instructed.  “There is a hook down here, and it is jammed.”

Pulling steadily, the door slid towards him.  There was a bit of rattling, and an exclamation, followed by her clear voice, “It’s free!  I think you can open it now!”  As he leaned it against the wall slender hands reached through the opening and then a cobweb covered head pushed its way into his world and into his heart.

Shakily, she pulled herself on to the floor and lay there, resting.  “I hate ladders.  Thank you so much for opening that thing up!”

“Thank me?” he burst out, “Thank you for coming!  Thank you for caring!”  Sinking to the floor beside her, he engulfed her in a hug, crushing her to his chest, “Oh, I knew you would come.  I knew you would.  Let’s get out of here!”
Releasing her, Phillip practically flew down the ladder stairway.  He couldn’t believe she had come, and yet he could.  He had always known she would… his dreams always came true – eventually.  That is why he had spent years preparing for this moment, yet, it wasn’t at all the way he had imagined it would be.

Stopping in a room, “There are a few things I want out of here.” He glanced at Wren, she was even more beautiful than he had imagined she would be, flushed with excursion, covered with cobwebs and debris, waiting patiently for him, “And then we can get going.”

She nodded, turning to look out the window.  The sun was hanging low in the sky, indicating that it was near evening.  All day – she had been in the castle all day?  It had to be so.

***

“Stick close to me,” he cautioned, as he began to work his way around the pool.  He hugged the wall tightly, feeling his way along.  Wren kept right on his tail, unsure if she should be following this stranger, yet unwilling to leave him.  About two thirds of the way around, he stepped into a crack in the wall.  She glanced backwards, and then followed him.  Moments later they were pushing their way past a lilac bush, outside under the starry sky.

Thankful for the full moon, they raced down the hill to a narrow foot path that he was obviously familiar with.  Following it, they crossed the valley she had seen for the upstairs window and then climbed to the top of a small butte.  The butte stood high above the surrounding country.  From its top they could see the castle and a small town about five miles distant.  A river separated them from the town, but peer as she might, Wren could see no bridges.

As she surveyed the land, Phillip gathered sticks and dry grass, depositing them into a well used fire ring that was dug into the mouth of a small cave.  He lit the fire and then continued to gather fuel.  Figuring that was where he planned to spend the night, Wren ventured in.

Looking in, “Are you ready to go?  Let’s be gone!”  He quickly skirted the cave, running along the brim of the butte.  Soon they reached an animal trail that zigzagged to the bottom of the ravine and along the river.  They followed it in silence until they came to a foot path that was wide enough for them to walk abreast.  Looking over his shoulder at the butte he smiled, “They will be able to see that for miles!”

Running.  Escaping.  Strangers, bound by circumstance, held by love.  She rescued him, when he had no one.  He led her across country, to a new home -- a new way of life.

Trusting.  Meek.  Wren stood by him.

Cunning, brutal, ever one step ahead, Phillip adored her.

Only she could change him and restore his honor.

*---*---*---*---*---*---*

 Word Count: 880

Friday, June 22, 2012

Wren's Adventure


Phillip pushed himself upright, against the walls of his prison.  He'd never imagined his most trusted adviser would turn against him, yet, it had happened.  He didn't know who he could trust or turn to for help.  Then, he recalled his dream.  A dream of a little bird, called a wren, coming to his rescue.

He wasn’t sure how he knew the bird’s name.  It wasn’t one he had ever heard of before but he knew, and that gave him hope.  Climbing the stone wall up to the narrow window, he called, “Come, little wren, come – help me!”

The voice startled her.  Standing, she looked around but could see no one.  As she brushed her knees off and exchanged seed packets, she heard his voice again, “Rescue me!”

“Where are you?” she looked about.

“I’m up here – in the tower.  Come wren, you can help me.  I know you can,” the voice pleaded with her.

“I’m coming!  But I can’t see you – keep talking!”

***

“Are you up there?”  It was the voice from his dream – the voice of the wren.  “I’ve come as far as I can.  This door won’t budge!”

She sounded scared.  Lost.  “It’s never been opened in my life time.”

“Is there any way you can pull up on it?” she asked.

“There is a ring on this side of the door,” he returned, “But I have tried it many times.  It does no good.”

“Pull it away from the hinges,” she instructed.  “There is a hook down here, and it is jammed.”

Pulling steadily, the door slid towards him.  There was a bit of rattling, and an exclamation, followed by her clear voice, “It’s free!  I think you can open it now!”  As he leaned it against the wall slender hands reached through the opening and then a cobweb covered head pushed its way into his world and into his heart.

Shakily, she pulled herself on to the floor and lay there, resting.  “I hate ladders.  Thank you so much for opening that thing up!”

“Thank me?” he burst out, “Thank you for coming!  Thank you for caring!”  Sinking to the floor beside her, he engulfed her in a hug, crushing her to his chest, “Oh, I knew you would come.  I knew you would.  Let’s get out of here!”

Running.  Escaping.  Strangers, bound by circumstance, held by love.  She rescued him, when he had no one.  He led her across country, to a new home -- a new way of life.

Trusting.  Meek.  Wren stood by him.

Cunning, brutal, ever one step ahead, Phillip adored her.

Only she could change him and restore his honor.

*---*---*---*---*---*---*

 Word Count: 440

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Make Me Thankful

My prayer today is that I wouldn't be thankful in theory only, but also in practice.  It is easy for me to say I am thankful, and I believe I am, but then I see the ugly side of me that is prone to gripe and complain over the littlest things.  That is not what I want to be.

Yesterday, my husband had the day off work, and instead of just enjoying the time together, I got upset over the way breakfast went.  Then I was frustrated with his indecision over how to spend the day.  The boys went and mowed a couple of lawns, which was great -- they did their job without needing to be told, but hubby asked me all sorts of questions that I didn't have answers for.  Again, I was upset with him... he helps the boys start a business, then expects that I know what is going on with it.  The children came back, and I found other things to complain about...

It was at this point in time, as my husband is asking me, "Honey, what's wrong?" that I realized what a horrible person I was being.  I have so many things to be grateful for and happy about, and there I was, griping and making others miserable.

Just from the paragraphs above:
  1. Time off work, for rest and relaxation.
  2. Breakfast -- we had plenty of food.
  3. Multiple choice of what we do with our time.
  4. The boys have a business!
  5. My husband trust me.  He trusts me with the children.  He trusts me with the guidance of the home, and he trusts me to handle the boys business.
  6. No, our yard is not perfect, but hell, we have a yard!
  7. My husband loves me.
I don't want to be an ungrateful, miserable woman.  My man works hard to make life so beautiful for us.  I want to make life just as beautiful for him.  <3

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

More Flowers and Butterflies


I planted these five or six years ago, and didn't realize they were still growing.

Monday, June 18, 2012

I'm Insulted!

The other day my husband received a letter in the mail that looked somewhat interesting.  There was no return address and printed on the front, in a crooked manner were the words, "Domestic First Class."  Knowing how he is about opening anything that he doesn't absolutely have to (and figuring it to be junk mail) I opened it.

Right at the top, in one big paragraph, it says:
"Kevin, please forgive us, but we have just taken a closer look at your profile.
What profile?  The last time my husband filled out a profile was more than 10 years ago, for a place that would identify themselves if they were contacting him...
It turns out you're more special than any of us imagine!  Did you know that you possess some very rare, hidden traits?  In fact, there is a famous person (someone you would instantly recognize, he's on TV every night)
We don't watch TV...
who possesses these same special, incredibly rare traits.   ...It turns out that people who possess these same rare and often hidden traits that you do are some of the most famous and successful people on this planet!
There are people on other planets?
Kevin, you are indeed blessed!
I think he already knows that -- he brags to everyone about his family...
I know those around you don't know this yet,
Excuse me, there is a reason I married him!
but they will!  Down deep, you sense it, too.  Right?  I'm so excited for you!"
Yeah.  I bet you are!  Flipping to the back of the letter, to see who it is from, I find a single name:  John.  How original! Okay.  So I use a pen name too, and only a first name.  No big deal, except I am not claiming to know you, have had previous interactions with you or know something wonderful about you.

So, back to the front page.
This is a personal letter just to you.  Notice: this is not a mass mailing...
Is that why your signature is computer generated, John?
Picking up the envelope, I see $ 0.374 for postage.  Sure, it says first class, but that is a reduced rate... 
There has existed for many years an exclusive association, a secret society, of some of the world's most famous and powerful people.  These include renowned actors and musicians, leading scientists and intellectuals, self-made entrepreneurs and artists, millionaires, professional gamblers, Casanovas, statesmen.  Many of these people you would instantly recognize.
So, John, you are asking Kevin to join the Rockefellers?  I really doubt James Hetfield or Bon Jovi subscribed to your secret society program...  And we know more than a few 'self-made entrepreneurs, artists, and millionaires' -- should we go ask them about this?  I mean, we have the letter as proof of how wonderful he is!  Heck, he even knows a few actors and statesmen.  Who should we ask first?

At this point I quit reading and began skimming.  Seven more pages of non-information seem to follow, and then the kicker:
[    ] I, Kevin, feel that something astounding is about to happen in my life!  The association has discovered me.  I possess very special and rare traits.  Because of these traits, the association is willing to accept my membership and send me their Greatest Kept Secrets that lead to enormous wealth, love and the most phenomenal personal abilities, absolutely free...
After skimming through this amount of nonsense, all I could think was Wow John, you dare to insult my husband by insinuating he is part of an extreme group, pardon me, exclusive group that can tolerate massive amounts of bullshit and be flattered by it?  You really don't know my husband!

Oh... I missed this before, but it explains so much (I'm sorry for insulting you before, John):
Although my lawyer will not let me reveal my name, many of you have watched my late-night television talk show.  Today I live a lifestyle most people only dream about.  I drive a $200,000 Mercedes and live in a magnificent $3 million mansion.
Of course -- you can't tell us who you are, because of your lawyer! Forgive me, but I don't buy it... unless it is for the lawsuits you are trying to avoid, after sending out this letter.  And 'magnificent $3 million mansion'?  I've been in several $3 million homes.  They're not that impressive -- at least not around here.  Okay, so they are much nicer than my home, but for $3 million, they're not impressive.

The $15 - $50 million homes I've been in -- those are impressive.  What's really impressive is owning several and not living in them.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Wren's Adventure


Phillip pushed himself upright, against the walls of his prison.  He'd never imagined his most trusted adviser would turn against him, yet, it had happened.  He didn't know who he could trust or turn to for help.  Then, he recalled his dream.  A dream of a little bird, called a wren, coming to his rescue.

He wasn’t sure how he knew the bird’s name.  It wasn’t one he had ever heard of before but he knew, and that gave him hope.  Climbing the stone wall up to the narrow window, he called, “Come, little wren, come – help me!”

The voice startled her.  Standing, she looked around but could see no one.  As she brushed her knees off and exchanged seed packets, she heard his voice again, “Rescue me!”

“Where are you?” she looked about.

“I’m up here – in the tower.  Come wren, you can help me.  I know you can,” the voice pleaded with her.

“I’m coming!  But I can’t see you – keep talking!”

Running.  Escaping.  Strangers, bound by circumstance, held by love.  She rescued him, when he had no one.  He led her across country, to a new home -- a new way of life.

Trusting.  Meek.  Wren stood by him.

Cunning, brutal, ever one step ahead, Phillip adored her.

Only she could change him and restore his honor.

*---*---*---*---*---*---*

Word Count: 220



Doubling the stories length this week didn't give me half the room I thought it would to move it along.  There are so many ideas in my mind, I am finding it hard to be economical with the words.  I am also wondering how much longer I can stick with the original wording...

Phase three of Building a Short Story, by Alex Crabtree.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Seven Things I am Thankful for...

1.  My husband, who can pick me up, squeeze me and make my back feel all better (my own personal chiropractor).
2.  YouTube.
3.  Friends that I can bounce ideas and feelings off of, when things aren't making sense to me.
4.  Well behaved children.
5.  My two dogs, who encourage random people to stay out of our yard.
6.  Good food.
7.  All the little things others do for me -- little things that make life nicer.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Not Dating

Reading a friend's blog, I had to laugh.  She mentioned that she began not dating her husband when she was 14.  I laughed, because I remember when they began not dating, and because I began not dating my husband when I was 17.

That summer, when she was 14 and I was 15, the three of us went to the same camp, both as Dorm Leaders and campers. He was a couple of years and had a job that took him away from camp a couple of evenings a week.  This was important, because this is when I found out she liked him.  I'm not so sure it isn't when she found out too.  You see, being away, he wasn't missed at certain events, and had the opportunity to pull some pranks.  I was the 'victim' of one of his pranks -- Thursday night, after the bond fire, I returned to my cabin to find a single red rose on my bed. 

The girls in my dorm were thrilled!  "Someone likes you!" they cheered, and helped me find a suitable container to keep it in.  The next morning, I found out I wasn't the only girl who had found a rose upon her bed.  So much for romance!

She and I usually sat together at meals, but that day she avoided me.  That evening, as we sent the children home, I noticed she was still distant, but needing to go home myself, I didn't have a chance to resolve the issue.  A couple of weeks later, we were all at camp again.

Things seemed to be back to normal between us, except when he talked to me.  Then she stood to the side, watching and occasionally glaring.  I thought she felt slighted about not getting a rose, and asked her about it.  That's when I found out about her crush.  From then on, I made a point of including her in our conversations -- which really wasn't that necessary, because he had noticed her too...

I think the reason she didn't get a rose was because he liked her... and when you are giving flowers as pranks, you don't give them to the girl you really like. 

As for my husband and I, we began not dating with in 36 hours of meeting.  It went something like this:  We were at a teen camp (a different one from above).  He was there as a Dorm Leader for the guys in our group, I was a camper.  Some gal would notice him and approach our group, she would sidle up to me and ask with a nod in his direction, "Are you dating him?"  When I would say no, she would take the opportunity to flirt with him.  Likewise, guys would ask him, "Are you dating her?" before flirting with me.

At the time I found it funny, but then, when he and I ended up at the same college and continued not dating, I realized there was something more to it...

If you don't already know, the difference between not dating and NOT dating is this:  when you are NOT dating, everyone knows it.  When you are not dating, only the couple thinks their NOT dating.  No one else is fooled (no matter how sincere the couple is that they are NOT dating).

Every time it rains, I think of a guy friend from college that I use to go puddle jumping with.  We would run all around town on rainy days, splashing in every puddle we could find.  One dry Saturday, when we were tired of acting like hooligans outside, we went into the administration building to talk.  Instead of sitting across form me or beside me, he sat on me while we talked.  I couldn't have cared less, but it was a Bible college, with strict 'No PDA' rules.  Of course, as we are sitting in one of the chairs in the lounge, an administrator and her daughter came walking through the building.

"Shoot!  We're screwed!" he hissed, debating whether or not find another seat, but it was too late.  The admin walked right by us, without seeming to notice.  He looked at me, shrugged, and resumed the conversation.

A moment later, we heard the admin's daughter say, "Mommy -- there is a boy sitting on a girl's lap out there!"

"Really?  No way!" she retorted, storming into the room we were in.  Seeing us, she smiled, waved and told her daughter, "It's only those two kids.  They're fine."

Again, we shrugged and resumed our conversation.  The reason that day has stuck with me so, is my husband and I couldn't talk for two minutes, in public, without attracting attention.  Every time we spoke, someone was bound to ask, "Are you two dating?!?"

"Yeah, we were talking.  No, we are not dating."  We didn't date for two and a half years before we got engaged.

Oh, and the other guy?  No matter how much time we spent together or how we behaved, no one ever asked if we were dating.

...like a bunch of crazy children, running through the rain...
Photo:  Google Images... Too many copies, to know the original source.  If this photo is yours, please let me know, so I can give you credit and link to you.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Strawberries, Rhubarb and Jam

Three of my favorite things...

I remember picking strawberries with my grandma when I was little.  She warned me to never paint my nails a bright color before picking.  She claimed that one couldn't tell the difference between the strawberries and their nails.  Of course, I had to try this out for myself -- she was right!  Nail polish and picking don't mix well.

Once we had several containers of strawberries picked, she would pull a few stocks of rhubarb and we would take them to the house, where we washed them, ate what we wanted, and made the rest into jam.

Strawberries... transplanted from a friend's house.
Rhubarb... given to me by a neighbor.

How to Make Jam 

 Making jam is simple.  All one needs is fresh fruit, sugar, a pan to cook it in, a large spoon to stir it with and containers to store it in.  A scale, for weighing the fruit and sugar is very helpful, but it can also be made 'to taste'.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Jam
  • To make jam, prepare the fruit by removing the stems and blemishes, then dice it into 1/2" squares.  
  • If you have a scale, weigh the fruit, pour it into a pan and add an equal or lesser weight of sugar* -- depending on the sweetness of the fruit.**
  • Put a lid on it and heat over a low temperature, stirring occasionally, until the sugar has dissolved and there is a fair amount of liquid in the pan. 
  • Mash the fruit -- I use the back of the spoon or a potato masher.
  • Increase the heat to medium-high and boil until the liquid has reduced to the consistency you want.
  • Spoon into containers -- either freeze or seal into clean jars, using the upside-down method and store.

* 2 cups of sugar = 1 pound
If you do not have a scale, start with equal parts fruit and sugar, cook down, taste and add some more if needed.
** Some fruit is sweet enough that it can be made into jam without sugar, but to thicken it up, one will need pectin.  I prefer to use a little sugar.

The Upside-Down Method

The upside-down method of sealing jars is perfect for jams, jellies and preserves.
  • Sterilize your jars, lids and rings with boiling water.  
  • Spoon boiling contents into jar.  Screw lid on tight and turn the jar upside-down for five minutes.  
  • Flip upright and allow to cool.  
  • The jar will seal -- only once have I had it fail... we opened the jar that evening and used the contents with supper.

Friday, June 1, 2012

Wren's Adventure

Phillip pushed himself upright, against the walls of his prison.  He'd never imagined his most trusted adviser would turn against him, yet, it had happened.  He didn't know who he could trust or turn to for help.  Then, he recalled his dream.  A dream of a little bird, called a wren, coming to his rescue.

Running.  Escaping.  Strangers, bound by circumstance, held by love.  She rescued him, when he had no one.  He led her across country, to a new home -- a new way of life.

Trusting.  Meek.  Wren stood by him.

Cunning, brutal, ever one step ahead, Phillip adored her.

Only she could change him and restore his honor.

*---*---*---*---*---*---*

Word Count: 110

Phase two of Building a Short Story, by Alex Crabtree, through me for a bit of a loop.  When I wrote the original flash fiction, I had in mind to expand the whole story, without keeping the original, except as an outline.  However, after thinking things over, I decided why not retain it for now?