Writing Successes: At this point, the blog. I did blog yesterday, but it didn't post until JUST NOW. You might read both entries here, if you haven't.
Music Playing: The Best of the Moody Blues - yap. Finally got it back.
Exerpt from "And You Think You've Got It Bad" by Barbara Fairchild Gramm
Soap Recipe - Sun or cold soap is made by adding one pound of cleansed gerase, spoiled lard or butter, to each gallon lye strong enough to float an egg. Set the vessel in the sun and stir thoroughly each day until it is good. There is no romance or poetry in making soap, only patient hard work.
Here I was thinking that making soap out of spoiled butter was so romantic! That using cleansed grease and lye was poetry itself! Silly me. I don't suppose anyone suddenly found a good reason why so many folks died from the flu? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
Yesterday I left off when my sister arrived on the scene. This was, and still is kind of, a problem for me. When she was very small, I worried that dad might "get up to his tricks" someday. Then I met my stepmother and her daughter. Make no mistake, my sister is her daughter. Have I mentioned that my stepmother is a Leo? I mean, you took one look at the pair of them together and you heard a snarl and a big paw aiming for your head. *raar!* *thwack!* I realized there was nothing to worry about.
But now they're divorced, and Kelleye goes over to his house and stays the weekend or a week or whatever. Goes camping. Whatever. Well, my stepmother sat her down and had a little chat. Leaving out all the details, she basically warned her that once upon a time, my dad had behaved inappropriately, and should she notice the same she was to tell immediately. Kelleye assured her this had not occured at any time and she still visits him often.
What an interesting thing to do. It never occured to me to have this discussion with my boys, and my dad's taken them camping for several days at a time. But you know, he was never interested in boys, so I suppose it's not the same.
I told my stepmother that if Kelleye did have questions she wanted to ask, she could call anytime. I mean, she is my sister. But I really have no idea what I'd say. I haven't told my kids. Of course, they aren't sixteen either. They're still little enough to believe that their grandpa is perfect and wonderful, and I don't really need to mess with that view.
And now I've told three days worth of stories just about having called my stepmother. Know what? I still didn't talk about WHY I called in the first place. This'll probably be the most fun.
Tune in again for another installment of "Past Lives" with Deoris. LOLLOL
Writing Successes: Went to Toasted Chat. Advertised "Three Cheers & A Tiger" contest. Wrote in blog yesterday. (Yay! It's becoming a habit!)
Music Playing: Various "World Music" Mp3's I downloaded from "Egypt 700". Basically, a lot of Arabic. I realize this is kind of odd given the day and the state of the world at large. But I like it anyhow.
Exerpt from "And You Think You've Got It Bad" by Barbara Fairchild Gramm
Her Bark Is Worse Than Her Bite (section 2) Women are universally noted for fondness of children, strength of attachment for friends, for their ease, politeness, kindness, deep religious and devotional feeling, refinement, ambition, curiosity, quickness and very good taste.
On top of all this, a woman must look her best at all times and in all places, and be as lithe from head to heel as a willow wand for all the duties and functions she must perform.
Woe to the young woman with wasp-like waist, who lives on candies, hot bread, pastry and pickles, whose list-less brain and idle hands seek no profitable occupation, whose life is given to folly, remember that to this ignorance may yet be traced the downfall of a nation.
Oh man, and you thought it was Bush who screwed up the nation! No ladies, I fear it is us! Given to folly! Living on candies and pickles! But that's all right. I'm sure our devotional feelings will pull us back up. Surely those of us with a fondness for children can save those of us with list-less brains and idle hands? Of course! And do I even need to point out that women's self-image was messed up long before television? I'm not sure what a "willow wand" is, but I'm kind of glad I don't measure myself by it.
So, remember that story about my stepmother doing the dishes for 4 1/2 hours? There was a reason she revisited this story. I asked how dad revealed our past to her.
Our kitchen was U-shaped, but very long. It faced out toward the street, with a window directly above the double sink. This afforded the poor soul doing the dishes a fabulous view of the yard, the driveway, the street and the giant empty field across the way. (Man, snake flashback! That field was FULL of garter snakes.) But when you were slogging through 3 years of dirty dishes, it kind of came in handy.
Especially when someone came to call. So, my stepmother is doing the dishes and this man pulls in the driveway. By the time he's out of the car, she's dried her hands and gone around the bookcase through the dining room and to the door. (I made this house in the Sims once. It's kind of cool.) Anyhow, this fellow asks for dad. My stepmother explains that's he's really quite ill and can't see anyone unless it's very important. The fellow says, "It's important. I'm his probation officer."
Floored and amazed, she has the guy come in and goes down the hall to where my father is having a nice snooze. She wakes him and explains about the man in the living room. "There's someone here to chat with you. And then, you'll chat with me," she says ominously. (Seriously, this was hilarious to listen to her relate.) So, after his probation officer and him chat, he goes to where she's calmly waiting in the now-spruced-up dining room.
She said he was actually very forthcoming. After all, they'd only been dating two weeks. I mean, that's pretty good. He was honest, and explained how he'd been convicted of child abuse. He hadn't had to go to jail, but he'd had a lot of counseling and he'd had to be on probation for five years. Staying away from the usual things, I suppose, not leaving the country, this kind of idea. (He was never ordered to stay away from me. I had chosen to go with mother because I figured I didn't really have a lot of choice in the matter. Child brains, I guess. My mother did assure me that wasn't true, but to me, it was law, written in blood somewhere. I was very black and white back then.)
A couple of days later, dad goes and gets all his offical papers (there were papers? wow!) and gives them to my stepmother. It was the proof that he'd been having therapy and that he'd been all right, and, well, I have no idea.
I wonder now if there was a transcript. I'd kind of like to know what I said. I don't remember, of course. I recall a dark room with a long table and a lot of people around it. They were the "Grand Jury", and just the name scared me to death. Then I said stuff, but I was very focused. See, I think Mom or Dad was in the room and every word was like a nail in the coffin. I was condemning him! So, needless, I don't remember what I said.
Anyhow, that's how my stepmother learned about my dad's past, and my past. I mean, the bones of it anyhow. She, rather nicely, said that of course she doesn't need details. I remarked this was a good thing since I don't really have too many details. Anyhow....
Writing Successes: Well, I don't suppose we're counting the theft and re-creation of cheerleading cheers for BOTA, so I'll have to say this blog was the big success.
Music Playing: KINK (It's past "Lights Out")
Exerpt from "And You Think You've Got It Bad" by Barbara Fairchild Gramm
Her Bark Is Worse Than Her Bite - Most women have agitated bosoms only when they are tired. When you see a peevish, troublesome woman, it is probably that she has too much work, anxiety or responsibility to bear. Or perhaps she has stayed in the house over-much and does not take journeys, or suffers martyrdom from an ignorant husband. It has been said that men may be bad in the grain. So, all fault finding, arrogant and disagreeable men ought to be swept from the face of the earth.
This was an interesting passage, because I thought it was going to be a slam on a woman's laziness. Then they got to that last line and I was like, "Okay, do that. I can agree with that!" LOL.
War, yeah, I'm aware. I have views. I just....don't want to talk about that. Why? Mostly cause everyone is. I enjoy being different.
Made some PSP things today for SEA. Care to take a look? Yeah, that's what I figured. Speaking of links, I'd appreciate a little vote for the Fifth House if you've got a minute. Mostly cause I'm sick of being the only voter. Not a big deal. LOL
Sorry, didn't speak to my stepmother today. I did speak to my sister, but it was about something computer technical. I think it's kind of interesting she called me and our father...who's a computer dude in the actual industry. LOL. I think she just wanted to say hi. She must be feeling better. That or she just liked having me around the last couple of days there. Either way is gold with me.
Sister? Yeah, I have a real sister. She's exactly half my age. She's in high school, she's in choir, she can play the piano, she can ice skate very well, she's been to Europe, she gets a 4.0 gpa.....she's friggin' perfect. She's also had a breast reduction. The gene for that must have been on my Father's side somewhere. Anyhow, I think she's grand, even if she is only 3 years older than my kid. Hehe. You can see some pictures over on my site there. I'll be posting some updated ones like VERY soon. The only one I have there of her was taken a LONG time ago.
Speaking of 13 year old boys with a death-wish....my son's been suspended for three days for defiance. See, he was supposed to attend lunchtime detention and didn't, then he didn't show up for "Homework Club" after school, either. But...he did go, he says. I have to call the school and discover the truth, and see if they'll take back the suspension, since he showed up. It's so FUBAR. I never know who to believe anymore.
On the other hand, my 12 year old will be going to a very scaled-back Outdoor School. Basically 2 days and one night, but I guess better that than the nothing I thought it would be. When I went, you got a week of ODS. When Patrick went 2 years ago, he went for a week. This should tell you about our budget cuts. This scaled back version was paid for by a volunteer walkathon and the generous donations of lots of people, and one rather rich Dentist. Good for him! Yay on him! Thanks to all of them, my son will at least get to spend one night in an actual forest learning how to care for what's still good and precious on this earth.
Well, I'm being bugged to go look at a chakram at ebay. I'm amused by that. Feel free to comment, of course.
Writing Successes: Writing? Hmmm...Writing. I guess it counts that I relayed more cleaning stories with Sal? Sure. Why not. Blog was a success, anyhow.
Music Playing: Lights Out on KINK.
Exerpt from "And You Think You've Got It Bad" by Barbara Fairchild Gramm
A Man By Comparison - Because of the greater width of a man's head, he has greater mental powers. Women, have such a narrow brain. [...] As a man is vastly superior in authority to the wife; she should hold him in the highest and purest regard. Without a man's restraint a family is like a horse without a driver, a nation without a ruler, a day without sun. He is as neccessary as a table in a kitchen, or chairs in the parlour. [...]
I just about laughed myself sick.
I know, you're suddenly asking yourself, "What is that about?" This woman found a coverless turn-of-the-century book on housekeeping in an attic trunk. Being highly amused by the laughable "rules" inside, she began a quest to find simliar books and compiled them all into one book. That's what I'm quoting. You're going to see quite a lot of these, as I am easily amused, and this is terribly funny.
The above quote really struck me as a good banner for Women's Rights. It's so obvious a man wrote that particular passage. Of course, it is possible that, at the time, women really thought that. I mean, you can see right there they were TAUGHT it. It was the "RULES" of conduct, it was "How to Get A Man And Keep Him Happy." But it's so SAD that our gender once thought this way.
But it was this very mindset that led to Sufferage and everything that followed after. For everything there is a reason. Doesn't make it any less funny.
Called my stepmom today, and actually got a little more the "closet" story to share. My dad was sick, remember? Well, she brought over some soup and things to help him out. She wound her way through the little path in the living room to the kitchen, and I do mean a little path through the trash (and Dad had been cleaning up!). Finally, frustrated and upset at what she saw, she sent him off to bed and began to clean.
It took her 4 1/2 hours to do the dishes. Mind, dishes, not "clean the kitchen". As she spoke I had little flashes of that terrible little kitchen. Allow me to share why I new right away she didn't mean "clean the kitchen."
The stove had a vent over it that NEVER worked. Nobody ever cleaned it or repaired it. The light never came on, and the fan turned on but sucked up nothing. There was a layer of grease on, under, beside and above that stove. Inside? Don't even LOOK, man. I mean, YEARS of blackened meat drippings and spills were layered on that thing. The stovetop "cups" that catch the food under the burners? Yap, totally full and blackened.
Nobody ever once moved the fridge or cleaned inside the drawers or cupboards. We mopped the floor about once a year. We never, ever, cleaned the walls (and we did have food fights) or the ceiling. You know, I'll bet there was cleaning supplies in that house from the year I was born.
My stepmother agreed as I listed all these things. Every bit as I remembered.
Let me just pause to say its not all my mother's fault. My stepmother didn't come along until 3 years after my mom and I moved to an apartment. It's not like dad and the boys didn't have the opportunity to dig themselves out of that nightmare.
And you're probably thinking to yourself, how did Deoris live there? Was she a total pig? The answer is that I didn't have a choice, and no. My room was always the cleanest in the house. It was never SPOTLESS, but it was at least tidy. My books were alphabetical, my writing was organized by date, and I knew which pile of laundry was clean because I did it myself. I also cleaned most of the house, the hallway, the bathrooms when they were just too much to stand, and the kitchen. I also did most of the cooking.
I also wasn't really "there" there. I moved in a different world than everyone else, honestly. I still can't remember most of what anyone else does. I wasn't really around.
Well, I think that's enough for today. Tune in tomorrow for more of Deoris' Horrible Childhood! Installment three looks to be a loo loo!
Writing Successes: Went to Sunday chat, and I'll post the only prompt I managed to do. Bush came on yesterday during it and distracted me. Did a bunch of editing today, all for Amazons. Long live the spell-checker!
Music Playing: K103 "Love Songs After Dark" I believe. It's a thrill.
I was just sick of doing other peoples work today. I spent the day with my step-mother, an interesting experience I'll speak more on later, teaching her Front Page. What was funny? I didn't know how to do what she needed me to do, so I was learning while teaching. Ah, irony.
Came home and was bombed by an Amazon in need of a hand-mixer. Apparently I was an expert on them and could offer advice. I find this funny. I use mine about once every 3 months. Real expert.
Then got wrapped up in a wad of Amazon work I would have done, had I not been gone. Editing this biography, fixing that post, emailing about this issue...whatever. Good writing fun, but man, I'm tired of doing CRAP work all the time and not writing for the sake of writing. I'm scheduling some for myself.
Spent the day with my step-mother. Kou says I should continue calling her this, since my father hasn't remarried, even though he's no longer married to her. She's the mother of my sister. I have no clue. Step-mother it is! I just call her by her name and move on.
But spending the day with Leo is so totally fun. For a little background, I'm an Aries. Fun-loving, chatty, outgoing....noisy. I live with a Taurus, and my best friend is a Taurus. This is an argumentitive lot. They know the best way to do EVERYTHING. Talking to them is like talking to an inflexible wall supported by encyclopedias. It's insanity. Leo's are just going to tell you everything. It doesn't matter what, they'll tell you. Anecdotes, gossip, truths, you name it. They fear nothing! And, since Aries fear nothing, we have a helluva time. I get on a tanget, she goes on a tangent, and we try to out-tangent each other.
She's divorced my dad. He apparently became "emotionally distant" from her, because to show emotion is to show weakness and to give others the power over you. He can't lose the power. This was all stuff I knew. I lived it, man. What I didn't realize is that my wonderful father was a passive-possessor. This was new for me...and sadly, something I totally recognized about myself. What is it? Let's say you have a favorite book. Let's say you have a husband (sister, brother, wife, whatever). Of course YOUR possessions are HIS possessions. He can read that book any time he wants......as long as he asks. This is passive-possession. You have to have the final control of the thing, even though you assure everyone you don't. You make sure they understand you DO. I'm this way about the computer. Everyone has access to it, I'm so nice and allow them all to use it. Long as they ASK ME first. LOL.
Now that was fun. No? It wasn't? Sorry....how about this? My mother sucked as a housekeeper. I mean SUCKED! This is news to nobody, including my mother. Well, my father and brothers lived in the house for months after mother and I left. My father took several 1970-something-Ford-Van loads of just straight-out TRASH to the dump. This did nothing to dent the hell that was that house. One day, my father was going to meet my stepmother and didn't show. She calls and he's sick. Being a kind soul, she decides to take him soup. She was absolutely appalled at the conditions in which he and the boys were living. It was beyond gross! She began a clean-the-damn-place campaign. My brother was 12 at the time, his closet was like chest-high full of ....who knows, I don't, I'm afraid. She found out. Down at the bottom of the pile? Dirty diapers, of course. I mean, ewwwwwwwwwww. Which is what she said.
No? Not juicy enough yet? Well, too bad! I'm going to post my story and sneak off to bed now. I do want to say that she gave me a book I plan to spend time snarking at here. Called, "And You Think You've Got It Bad", its a book about turn-of-the-century life for women. There are ads and comments from books compliled from the era. Like "Miss Manners" things. Oh, man, this baby is a jewel! I asked to borrow it from her and she gave it to me. What a woman!
Here's the prompt, it's not long:
Write about a character who is sick or injured. 15 min
The gray eyes opened and a hand shot up and wrapped itself around Ronic’s throat. He gasped and gripped the hard fingers, desperate to remove them. He tried to find any way around the lanky fingers, but couldn’t find anywhere to hang on.
“Where am I?” his voice was hard. There was no panic, quite the opposite.
Ronic choked and slapped the back of the man’s hand. He dragged in the remnants of a breath.
The man looked slowly around the small room. Ronic watched him take in the cluster of beds, the other few patients, the woman steaming herbs in the back. The gray eyes turned down to him.
He dragged in another pathetic draft of air and smacked the man’s hand again. The fingers relaxed a fraction. “He . . . a . . . ler . . .” he choked out.
“Mmmm,” he said.
Ronic fell backwards as he was released, the stool rocking with the force of the push. He put a hand to his aching throat and rubbed hard, trying to remove the fingerprints he knew were now bruising his skin. He stared at his patient, the man he’d been nursing back to health for over a week.
“Nice thank you,” he commented.
“Healer, eh?” was the return.
Ronic nodded.
“How long, then?”
“You came to us about a week ago. I was searching for herbs in the forest and found you broken and bleeding in a clearing. There was dead man nearby and a bloody sword in your hand. I did what I could and brought you here.”
The gray eyes took in Ronic’s dark hair, soft brown eyes and softer body build. “Sure you did, little Healer. All on your own, no doubt,” he sneered.
“Actually, no. I sent for help and it took four of us to get you in the pony-cart.”
“Only four?” he asked. Ronic was shocked to notice a hint of humor in his voice. “Well, I’ll have to work on that.”
That's from the Tetra saga, which I rarely write anymore. But I wanted to make a concentrated effort to do something fantasy-oriented this week. And something of my very own, as well.
Which reminds me, I'm the Toasted Cheese article author this month. Want to know how I made the Amazon language? How to make your own fantasy language? Give it a look-see.
Until next time, keep your sword sharp and your wits sharper!
