Today's message from the oracle is not a happy one, but it is poignant, and it is timely. Trust me, today, you'd rather have Edna's words than my own, and the sentiment is wholly shared.

It is also the birthday of this impressive lady.
"At Vassar, she was the most notorious girl on campus, famous for both her poetry and her habit of breaking rules. Vassar's president, Henry Noble McCracken, once wrote to her, "You couldn't break any rule that would make me vote for your expulsion. I don't want a banished Shelley on my doorstep." She wrote back, "Well, on those terms I think I can continue to live in this hellhole." She started sending her poems off to magazine editors in New York City, and she always included a picture of herself with her submissions. She had red hair and green eyes and when she'd lived in Camden, Maine, people had often stopped and stared at her on the street, she was so beautiful. When she moved to Greenwich Village after college, most of the men in the literary scene fell in love with her, including the critic Edmund Wilson, who proposed to her and never got over her rejection. He wrote about her in his novel I Thought of Daisy (1929).
Millay wrote poems about bohemian parties and free love in her collection A Few Figs from Thistles (1920), and she became one of the icons of the Jazz Age. When she gave readings of her poetry, she drew huge crowds of adoring fans. She recited her poetry from memory, delivering the poems with her whole body. Many critics considered her the greatest poet of her generation. The poet Thomas Hardy famously said that America had produced only two great things: the skyscraper and the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay. She became the first woman poet to win the Pulitzer Prize in 1923.
But after her marriage, she began to suffer from debilitating stomach pains, and she became addicted to morphine. By the end of her life, her poetry had fallen out of fashion. She died in 1950, at the age of fifty-eight, after falling down the steps in the middle of the night.

Millay wrote, "My candle burns at both ends; / It will not last the night; / But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— / It gives a lovely light!"

What My Lips Have Kissed

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings so more.


from The Selected Poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay
and The Writer's Almanac

"It is not having been in the dark house, but having left it, that counts."
-Theodore Roosevelt

Well, as my dear, old* ‘Burg buddy Rob pointed out – there has yet to be a single February rant. Rob wrote to my guest book and very kindly blamed this on Chris – the BF – and I really wish I could blame it on him too, but such is not the case.
Moo.
Actually, I have been a combination of extraordinarily busy,
(we’ve had MAJOR work changes which involved several all-day-long training sessions – including some on my !@#$ days off, !@#$… as well as other massive work-related projects; ren-faire is kicking into high gear and I have magically found myself to be a MAJOR part of that whole process; I am also doing some volunteer work for a non-profit theater company in Asheville on top of all of that; I have several pending commissions art-wise; and I am trying to SERIOUSLY budget my money – which takes more time than I would have ever imagined. Oh, and I am trying to stay warm. The only breaks I get from this hectic pace come when we are snowed/iced in, and unfortunately, those have been fairly frequent… eurkX50.)
- and extraordinarily ill,
(my pain-stuff, the pain that caused me to have all those tests, has reached an unbelievable, unbearable intensity. It has gotten so bad that sometimes I can’t sit upright or walk, and sometimes when I am upright, walking and ok, it hurts so bad when I finally sit down that I nearly pass out. I have now been in pain 100% of the time for years, and it has accelerated in intensity drastically in the last 8-10 months. On the best days, it's like an all-over-body head- or tooth-ache, and on the worst days (like last Saturday), it's like having ever bone in my body broken. On top of that, I am allergic to housepaint, and they have painted the library interior, so yay – insult to injury. Needless to say, I am feeling like 500 miles of really bad (like, backwoods, Louisiana/Texas) road. My shine is off, I am exhausted ALL the time, and I feel pretty damned hopeless whenever I slow down long enough to think about it – thus the ridiculous busy-ness.)
- and so I am sorry. I miss my rant, too. : )
I could say that I was just waiting for someone to miss me. Thanks Rob. At least I know I couldn’t be dead in a ditch for more than a couple of weeks before somebody – ok, at least Rob – would wonder where I was… ;)

Hang in there, don’t give up on me – at least not until I do.

Much love,
-Sam

*old as in, ‘have known him a long time’, not as in, damn, boy, you OLD! he is younger than me…

Hello, Faithful Readers!
Didja miss me?
:)
I have some REALLLLLLY big (well, 7pounds, some ounces... :) news, and lots of little tidbits and treats, but first I need to actually RANT a little...
- just a little.
I meet a lot of wonderful, interesting and unusual people at my job, seekers of knowledge and amusement, mostly. 'S nice. But I also meet some real... knob-ends. There is one lady in particular who is one of THE most annoying, awful people I have ever met (and that's saying something)*. Her FAVORITE hobby seems to be coming to the library to sit at the front table (which is 22 feet from my desk - I measured), read the papers and sit there and moan and sigh loudly and dramatically at all the bad news. E v e r y d a y .
*sigh* (*moan*, etc...)

ok. I feel a little better.

NOW FOR THE REALLY BIG NEWS.... DRUM-ROLL, PLEASE...
(brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.................................)
SPROUT IS HERE!!!
Sprout = Ariana Caitlin (sp?) Campbell-Cook**!!! She was born on Monday - Jan. 26, during the ice storm, a little while after lunch - 1:20'ish, I do believe. Proud Papa Burt called me to give me the news. Mama Jen (my roomie from 'round this time last year) is still in the hospital, recovering from her c-section. Uncle D. called me to give me the news, too...
When Jen first found out that Sprout was on the way, she called to tell me, and very sweetly said that she wanted me to be there to be Aunt Sam and teach her all about sparkle and "whee!"... :) moo. She said "You have to be around to give her - or him - glitter, ... you know us, even if we have a boy, he's gonna need to know all about that stuff!"*** MooOoOOOOoOoooooOOOooo!
I can't WAIT to see her! Sprout, we're so veryvery happy that you are finally here with us! (ooh, yay, baby at dragon-con!) WELCOME TO THE WORLD BABY-GIRL!!!
(And Jen, I am so happy that you've gotten the "woo" and the "whee!" that you asked for - and boy, HAVE you!... you deserve it, dear.)

In other entertaining baby-news, Andi invited Stewart and I to come see a WONDERFUL film ("Love, Actually" - DO see it) with her and her friend Sonya, and Our Aeryn.
Now I personally think that people who bring their infants (or even worse, toddlers) to the theatre should be publicly caned, but I trusted Andi, and Andi trusted that her (our :) sweet, precious baby-girl would be fine. It was the last night for that film to be playing at the Skyland (which is a small screen, more informal brew-and-view that shows art films) and Andi said that she wanted her daughters' first film to be a Colin Firth (and who can blame her? UHN!)
Well I am proud to say that Miss Aeryn was a delightful patron! The only sounds she made were an occasional giggle (the loudest during Colin's Big Kiss Scene! That's our girl!). She was RIVETED by the screen and watched the whole film intently. We each got a turn holding her on our lap during the movie, and afterwards, the other film-patrons made a point to come by and tell Proud Mama how amazed they were at her good baby, how beautiful Aeryn is, how they even forgot that she was in there during the film - until they heard her giggles, which delighted them.
I know for a fact that if Aeryn had fussed, Andi would have taken her out into the lobby in a heartbeat. We all offered to take turns, too, if needed, so all contingencies were covered. Andi is a serious film and theatre aficionado, and would never take the chance at ruining someone else's good time. I am so glad for her that she could stick to that and still go and enjoy a film and share a special time with her four-month-old best friend. How nice.
Thanks for that lovely experience, ladies. I wish more moms and babies were like y'all.

Oh, and thank you, also for the lead-in to the Bohunk-O-Rama section of today's rant, inspired by Thurs. evening's Firth-fest...
I was surfing the web to find images to update my desktop (currently: aragorn tiled background; replaced the big viggo pic with a new, hot - big surprise, eh? - vin; switched jet for bruce; and switched benicio for colin... hey, i'm NOT fickle. variety IS the spice of life!) and i ran across this very poignant and, um, inspirational quote:
From Premiere Magazine (January 2003)
Question: What do you think makes you sexy?
Viggo: I don't really know how to deal with that question. I'm sure that there's just as many people who think I'm a grizzled hack.
Q: I guess Brad Pitt's the pretty boy type of hunk and your the, you know...
V: ...the grizzled hack version? Do you think we should play brothers or something?
Q: You should.
V: Or lovers?
Q: Maybe lovers. Yeah.
V: You think people would pay to see that?

uhhhh.... ummm... er.... uhn... oh, where was I?

Oh yes, beautiful boys. :)
Well, I can't mention Andi and Colin Firth in the same rant and not pay homage to his image as well... and guys, I'm sorry. You'll just have to be the gentleman that Stewart is and say what he said Thursday night: "I'm a Colin Firth fan fan." :)
(and Andi, I am mailing you a few SPECIAL treats... :)

Here are some of my lovely surf-results. Some really good
fan art: “Acta Firthia”
© 1996 by Karen G. Jollie
A nice colinophilia site (it's more than a bit bizarre how much he looks like a non-samwise- heavy Mr. sean
"Cutie-Pie" astin in that first pic, innit?), with some extra scrummy photos…
and here, too:
and this one is ESPECIALLY for you, Jams... I know how you LOVE The Cheese! ;)

and last but not least, here’s a link to a site showing a video clip of Mr. Darcy emerging from the lake… if you can figure out how to make it play, write me and tell me!!!:

Alright, Ladies and Gents, stay warm, forgive me for my intermittent blogging and slacking on the Baby Announcement. Weather and busy-ness and bad achey-badness have combined to slow me down - but not stop me.
CHUMBAWUMBA!

Much love,
-Miss Sam (Colin Firth fan, Colin Firth fan fan, Colin Firth fan fan fan!)

p.s. shurrUP, Seamus! :) xoxox

*she is worse than the !@#$ porn-star weirdo gum-smackers, but still an improvement over the crazy pee-smelly dog-lady who simultaneously insults and hits on me, just to quantify...
**spelling and proper surname to be announced as soon as i get that info.
***Jen and Burt are harcore members of The Geek Patrol, and are seriously into costuming, gaming, etc...

howdy folks (ooh, texas rubbed off on me! ;)

chris(X?) is in a play called 'The Seven Deadly Dwarves'. Last night was opening night (i didn't get to go, but i'll go tonight) and at some point during the evening - maybe pre-show rehearsal, someone handed him a couple of mini-flyers. one of them was EXTREMELY entertaining. so much so that i will share it with you.

this is a quarter of a sheet of neon paper, no picture, and the type reads as so:

It's cheesy and silly, but still, oh so... Goth...

3rd annual

Goths on Wheels
aka: The Aquarian Birthday Party

We'll be Roller Skating to Bauhaus
well past the witching hour...
So wear your vampire best
and join us for a night of the strangest
roller skating party you'll ever see.

Tarwheels Skating Rink
Friday, February 6th
11:30 pm, 2:00 am
Cover: $10 per person

Take I40 to exit 55.
If coming from the west, turn left off the exit.
If coming from the east, turn right off the exit.
Then, turn right at the stoplight.
Tarwheels will be 2 1/2 miles down on the left.

************************************
d., you KNOW i thought of you and k.k.!
you gotta love a boy who brings you things like this...
man, i wish i could go - and bring my antonia*.
if YOU get to go, PLEASE be sure to tell them that SAM'S DAY OFF sent you!

MUCH love, and don't fall on your face and break your fangs...
-sambolina (who doesn't skate and definitely doesn't do "goth")

*my camera

Well, I’m back! Texas survived us and we all survived each other! Hooray! I will have some photos for y’all SOON!

I have two major bits of news today. One is sad. Bob Keeshan – better known as Captain Kangaroo - died today. He was 76 years old.
I was just talking to Chris about him a few days ago. Chris is a big Mr. Rogers fan – we all are. But the Captain had an edge to him that Fred didn’t. I loved Mr. Rogers, but I always thought how messy I’d look in his neat, quiet little world. I would have blended in KangarooLand, though. Things were wilder there, and the Captain looked like a happenin’ kinda’ guy. He had that Beatlesy haircut, those WAY cool sideburns, that sharp red coat with the giant pockets and white trim, and the characters on the show were just LOONY (Remember Mr. Moose and the Ping Pong balls?). Not to mention the big crush I had on Mr. Green Jeans…
People made messes on the show, sometimes things got loud. He had Simon in the Land of Chalk Drawings - “Well you know my name is Simon…” and he had “The ToothBrush Family with the “brush your teeth” song, which I still sing today… Bill Cosby came on with Mortimer Marker for Picture Pages (I still know that song AND the Simon one, too…),
I loved watching Rollo the Hippo and the Dancing Bear break it down, and I always wanted to know what Mr. Green Jeans would be inventing next… Kevin dressed like my family… and the Captain sometimes hallucinated a little tiny marching band…
Yeah, definitely a place where I’d fit in.

So today, raise a glass (even – or maybe ESPECIALLY if it’s rootbeer) and have a moment of silence for the passing of this good man who loved kids and life, who dang sure made ME smile when smiles were sometimes a rare commodity...

And now for my good news – FRANK BAILEY FOUND ME! HE’S NOT LOST FOREVER IN THE WILDS OF JAPAN!!!
Huh?
Frank Bailey is a dear, strange bloke who befriended me – and my sad little waif of a best friend – between my junior and senior year of high school. That was a pretty yuck year*, I was new, I didn’t know anyone yet – except beloved Buck (he’s another story for another time) and his Cowboy Bros., so I got a job working in Merry Go Round at the mall until school started. Frank was working… somewhere in the mall – record store? I think so. And we went in there to look at music we couldn’t afford and flirt with a couple of cute guys who worked there (who was that sexy Middle Eastern guy, Frank? The great artist who’s father forced him to take BUSINESS classes**…?)

ANYWAY… Frank adopted us, or we adopted him, and he became our sort of Guardian Angel. He drove us all-the-hell over Deep-South-Central Louisiana, listened to our teen angst bullshit (poor, poor, Frank. You shoulda’ got a’ medal!), saved us from bad drunk guys, bad drunk parents, and occasionally ourselves. Ever a gentleman and a most reliable friend… I wouldn’t have made it through that year without him.
He also has the “honor” of being privy and witness to some of my most often re-told adventures. Frank was the inspiration for mine and Lisa’s favorite joke:
Sam: “Lisa, can I be frank with you?”
Lisa: “But I thought it was MY turn to be Frank!”
(Frank: “I AM Frank, and I NEVER get to be Frank!”)
Oh god, and mom's "Hey Frank, wanna' get LEI'D for your birthday?" joke. Poor, poor Frank!
He might have been there when I had my hands in Henry Rollins’ hair, but if he wasn’t I know for SURE that he heard all about it the next day…
He was there – and a key part of the evil revenge/fun on the night of my one and only blind date (with a guy named HARRY GARY. I am NOT joking. His father was Elmo*** Gary. Remind me to tell y’all THAT story sometime… sheesh.)
He was there – and drove - the night Lisa freaked out (big shocker THERE, huh, Frank) at Jason’s house and had to be physically removed, then slept with a shard of broken wineglass to her throat the whole night… He was there for the midnight fountain slamdance (though we wouldn’t let him watch); he was witness to some of the earliest and most extreme hair adventures and didn't fuss at me - too badly - for cutting myself; he picked me up at truckstops and let me play HORRIBLE music in his truck... and SO many other crazy (mis)adventures. He bravely tolerated our fledgeling attempts at voodoo – despite the fact that he was VOCIFEROUSLY opposed to it; he sat patiently for hours while we decided what to wear (or not wear – Lisa) and he listened – and sometimes came to get me – when I called crying in the middle of the night, afraid for my life and my sanity…

And he contacted me today out of the deep, Texas blue (YAY, SAM’S DAY OFF & GOOGLE!) and said**** that he thought I might not want to contact him because he reminded me of bad times…
PUH-LEASE!
He’s the very best reminder of the good times inside all that bad, and I love him dearly. He was the surrogate when I was missing Joe and Dad so badly that I wanted to die, and he made me begin to really see the miracle that I was - that I am.

I talk to my new friends about Frank and have old pictures in my photo album. Aunt Sue asks about him from time to time (she’s gonna’ FLIP!) and I think often of how much my best friend Stewart reminds me of him. Thank GOD Stewart has an easier job (and no !@#$ LISA to deal with!), though. *UBER-sheesh!*

I thought I’d lost him forever…
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto (well, ‘Mr. Google’, anyway) for bringing this good friend back into my sphere! And thank you, Frank for not thinking I was a ticket marked “Titanic” and looking me up. You lost me once, you’re stuck with me now!

Big love and happy reunions (well, at least ones with a minimum of bloodshed, JEFF*****! ;)
-Sam

*and THAT was a hell of an understatement. It was VERY BAAAAD times.
**probly’ did him a favor, actually….
***”REMEMBER THE ELMO!”
****he also said: “You're one of “those” people, the bright sparks in life that you always look for around you and seldom find… I'm glad you're still SAM, and have never lost the magic…” MOOOoOoOoOOooOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
*****my middle brother. we like to fight - apparently. :)

Well, this time Thursday, I will be with all of my brothers (and hopefully my Ellie-sis) in sunny San Antonio! YAY!!! Mandy can’t come, ‘cause’a school stuff (she is SO smart and SUCH a good student, y’all…) but she seems so happy that we are all finally talking and trying to get together. It’s been a bad deal for all of us, parent-wise, past-wise, since day one. Our parents handed us their mixed bag of bizarre personalities, chaotic events and broken dreams, and we – the kids - have all paid the taxes on it. All of our lives. But now we are all ‘officially’ adults, and I think we’ve decided that we have a new chance. I am unbelievable happy about this.
I get so ‘homesick’, well, ‘family-sick’ I guess (there’s really no “home” left anymore), but it’s always been no use. I could pine all I wanted, but everyone in my family is at least as stubborn and bloody-minded and as ridiculously independent and hermitic (and hermetic*) as I am. The past haunts us when we are together even worse than it does when we are far apart. In the past few years, though – after a lot of trials and upsets and yelling and, well, the usual – “the grandkids” (aunt Sissy’s three, uncle Bubba’s (dad) five) have made more of an effort to be just us, a family in our own right, trying to get past the past. The biggest steps of all have been made very recently, and it means the world to me. There is hope. I may have a blood-family yet.
Not to discount my “non-blood” family here, though. I will be seeing even MORE of them in the coming months, as faire season is starting, and this is a good thing, too. A very good thing.
Yesterday was the “kick off”. Our annual Improv Workshop. Lisa, Hamilton and I are the entertainment committee (at least, I think that’s what we’re called… I dunno.) We are responsible for the storyline, casting, character development, the stage combat stuff (thank GOD for Bruffy!), writing and directing the chessboard, etc. I am reallyreallyreally lucky to be on a team with Hamilton and Lisa (Hamilton was my acting partner first-year, and Lisa’s the girl I went to New Orleans with in Oct.) I like them, they seem to like me, and we work well together. In fact, thanks to them, Andi and Buffy, I didn’t completely panic over finding out that in one week, due to the sudden surprise dropout of the ONLY !@#$ trained actor on this particular team, I was going to have to come up with and present a four hour improv workshop. AUGH!!!
No fear, though, it went GREAT! We had such a good time. Lots of people (about FIFTY!) showed up, many new ones, and before the day was over, our scenes were as funny and sympathetic and tight as people who’d been at a summer-long acting camp. It was AMAZING! I was – and am – really proud of us, and I have big hopes for the faire this year. There were some folks who came who’d had YEARS of good experience, and there were folks there who’d never done anything like this before (like myself, two years ago…) and there was some really impressive talent among all of them Our Stewart among them! He was brave, and he ACTED and really made us laugh! Chris (‘X?’**, who has been acting and involved in theatre, music and film production since he was NINE) came along too, and he was such a big help and encouragement to the ‘newbies’. He’s a good comedian, too. Moo. Afterwards he told me what a very good time he had, and that’s really what’s important.
YAY, US!
Two weeks from yesterday will be the next phase – AUDITIONS!
Wish us luck. And wish that I have a good flight Thurs./Sun. ‘cause I’m telling you, I am hating it more and more every time.***
Much love, bun-buns.
Still tired, but looking forward,
-Miss Sam, Tribal Elder.


*Encarta: Hard to understand. Obscure and difficult for outsiders to understand.
**fyi, those of you who’ve been asking about why my beau remains such a mystery, sorry. ‘Not trying to be mysterious. ‘X?’ is my written nickname for him because his name is ‘Chris Riddle’ – X – as in ‘Xmas’, ? – as in ‘Riddle’. Get it? :) I gave him a beautiful flask for xmas this year with ‘x?’ engraved upon.
*** !@#$ O’!@#$ Hare! Not to mention the !@#$ JET-ACCIDENT I was in several years ago. Augh!

Oh, monkies. I am so tired.
I’ve had a cold for a few days, and I have been in a lot of pain since the first of the year. It’s constant and inescapable. The only time I’m not aware of the pain is when I am asleep. Right now, there’s an ache in my back and in my jaws that is making me sick to my stomach, but all of me hurts. Especially a bad – now constant for several days - headache (probably from the ache in my jaw muscles), my thighs hurt, my arms and shoulders, my neck. It’s horrible. That’s probably the majority of what is making me tired.
I’m trying various things I’ve read about, and taking my prescription, but it’s so hard to keep my spirits up when I feel this way. I think the doctors have basically decided that it is fibromyalgia, and there is no medical treatment or cure for that. I am reading, and trying to stay warm – someone told me that being cold is the worst thing for this condition. !@#$ great.
Sorry.
I’m sure that there are good things to say. I know there are. But my brain is so clouded by this pain and exhaustion that I’m not much good for anything.
For those of you who know how unlike me this is, how hard this is for me, thank you for continuing to see me as my old self. Bouncy, bright, fierce. It has to come back.

I’m going to go home soon and get my house warm and prepare for the workshop tomorrow and fiddle around with my herbal. Maybe watch Monsters Inc. and skwooch my dog. Spend some gentle time trying to unwind the stress factor.

Send me good thoughts, if you have them to spare. I will try my best to pay you back in belief.

Much love,
-s

Sorry folks, I had to write a small addendum to today's rant - not related to the previous post, but in answer to a message left in my guestbook.
'Yes, Andi - and all the other moms (and dads) of all our little girls (and boys, if need be) - Sam WILL kill him if he tries anything.' *
Guaranteed.
I just - not ten minutes ago - had to have a little 'word of prayer' with a local creep who will not quit macking on one of my little Saluda girls. I was immeasurably proud and pleased that she came to me to ask for help, and I managed to make the situation clear to him without crossing any lines or doing anything to risk my professionalism. This time.
(NEXT time, I'll call in Bri-Bro, and we'll hit 'em Boondock Saints stylie! hee! ;)

And I'm glad I made you laugh, too, Andi-mom!
xoxox
-s

*this is one of the very funny threads that runs through 'The Very Secret Diaries' and
'The Very Secret Journals'. see 01/03's Tolkien Rant.

with winter settling back into the world - and my own heart, head and body* - after a few blissful, t-shirt/open-window warm days, today's Writer's Almanac poem seemed almost ironic. it is also my very favorite robert frost poem. i hope i never forget it, because it reminds me of something very important. something dangerous to forget.
another important thing to remember:
the alamo. no, really. a week and a day from today, i will be with my siblings in san antonio.
*******************************************************************

Desert Places

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it--it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less--
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no _expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.


******************************
much love and hopefully patience, too.
-s

*my pain has been badbadbad for the last couple of days - since it started getting cold again...

hello, schweet schmookies. I wrote a bigfat rant full of links celebrating Tolkien's b'day (and happy birthday to Linda, too! woo!) but for some !@#$ reason, it is taking its !@#$ sweet time publishing, so... sorry. it will be there eventually - and for some reason, it is already showing up in the archives. if you want to go ahead and read it (kaysha, there's a spaschul message for you there...) please do. otherwise, sorry for the delay!
xoxox
-s

Kaysha, this one's especially for you, Love.

The Return of the King, Book VI, Chapter IV:
"And all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them, now in the Elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness."

Greetings, Denizens of Middle Earth! Today’s rant has Tolkien- AND “yellow-” fever (LOTS o’ links!)
For those of you that didn’t get my e-unbirthday card this morning, today is the one-hundred and twelfth birthday of J.R.R. Tolkien!
So, to celebrate, today’s rant is full of links and pics and quotes to delight the most hardcore (URUK-HAI, URUK HAI!) Tolkien fans.
The Tolkien Society has a great webpage, and tonight everyone is asked to toast the same thing at the same time…
So at 9pm (local) join me in raising a glass to “The Professor”!
There are LOTS of happy sites that celebrate the Professor’s great works.
This one is fatly rich with art, mmmm! (and do NOT miss the excellent flash MAPS under the ‘Artwork’ dropdown, Wetrats! Oh, and there’s a great “Beat Gollum” Riddles in the Dark quiz, too! Whee!)
There’s all sorts of fun stuff here…
and this one has a nice “Tolkien Timeline”.
Here’s a very SERIOUS (and nice) fan site, and Hamilton, you’ll love this one – songs and poems! And lots of good links, too!
On this one, I can’t read the text, but MAN, is this some lovely art!
This GREAT “Gandalf” pic is from Ian Mckellan’s own site, where he posts photos from all his sets…

Here are a couple of typical Geek-Queen miscellaneous tidbits…
Why does this pic make me think of Very Secret Diaries and Very Secret Journals? :)
(sorry. Had to make the joke, but this is BEAUTIFUL art… :)

And who EVER thought that THIS guy
could play OUR (mmmm!) Aragorn (ohhhh!) King (ahhhh!) ? Puh-lease!
oh, sorry, 'don't know how THIS got in here! :D

If you ever start feeling like you might be going too far over the edge, just check out this site, and you will realize that you’re a perfectly healthy, normal geek like the rest of us. Heh heh heh…. (despite some bad Elvish wigs* this site is pretty dang cool – for a buncha !@#$ costume freaks. :)

And finally, some quotes that I think help to sum up the whole of how we, Geek Nation, feel about the gifts that J.R.R. – and now P.J. and Crew, have given us.

The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 1: Many Meetings
“Almost it seemed that the words took shape, and visions of far lands and bright things that [Frodo – and we] had never yet imagined opened out before him; and the firelit hall became like a golden mist above the seas of foam that sighed upon the margins of the world. Then the enchantment became more and more dreamlike, until he felt that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him. Swiftly he sank under its shining”

From The Return of the King -
Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach."

Elrond
"Such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere."

Celeborn, to Boromir on the subject of old wive's tales.
"But do not despise the lore that has come down from distant years; for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know."

and the words of the bard, himself:
J.R.R. Tolkien - On Fairy-Stories
”Faërie contains many things besides elves and fays, and besides dwarfs, witches, trolls, giants, or dragons: it holds the seas, the sun, the moon, the sky; and the earth, and all things that are in it: tree and bird, water and stone, wine and bread, and ourselves, mortal men, when we are enchanted. The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beast and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords. In that realm a man may, perhaps count himself fortunate to have wandered, but its very richness and strangeness tie the tongue of a traveller who would report them. And while he is there it is a dangerous for him to ask too many questions, lest the gates should be shut and the keys be lost.”

And on the lighter side, just from the whole "Sam, UrukHai-practical" viewpoint...
I’m not sure who this girl is, someone on the film production crew, I believe, but I like the way she thinks!
Christy M.
”In matters of money, it is better to be mistaken for an Orc than an Ent.”
:)

Much love, Geek Nation!
-Magpie the Uruk-lo!


*”Uhh, thankyouverymuch. Dang, this toadstool is cold! TCB!”

Lovely day yesterday, perfect way to start the new year. Big gathering of friends at Bruffy's for games and gossip, adult beverages and a wonderful dinner. I will say it again and again (sorry if you get tired of it), I am so blessed and grateful to be a part of their family.
Tomorrow night, X comes home (!!!), Sunday night, back to Bruffy's for yet ANOTHER big gathering, THIS time to celebrate HEATHERNESS!!! Yes, that's right, the elusive red-headed spinner and High Priestess Extraordinaire has been cornered and is coming to play! ALL the boys will be there, too, so they can geek out and play Magic (or possibly ANOTHER game*... :) and carry our refreshments up and down the stairs so that we don't fall and bruise our delicate heinies. :D Also, Heather and Ken will finally get to satisfy their curiosity about my fabulous beau...
In other words, "YAY, US!!!"
Ok, I will shut up and go away now, but before I do, I will leave you with two good poems to start off your year. They are both about subjects that mean a lot to me...
Books and pragmatic love.
Enjoy!

xoxoxoxoxoxox
-Miss 'Pie

*i can't tell yet! it's a secret!

*****
Books

From the heart of this dark, evacuated campus
I can hear the library humming in the night,
a choir of authors murmuring inside their books
along the unlit, alphabetical shelves,
Giovanni Pontano next to Pope, Dumas next to his son,
each one stitched into his own private coat,
together forming a low, gigantic chord of language.

I picture a figure in the act of reading,
shoes on a desk, head tilted into the wind of a book,
a man in two worlds, holding the rope of his tie
as the suicide of lovers saturates a page,
or lighting a cigarette in the middle of a theorem.
He moves from paragraph to paragraph
as if touring a house of endless, paneled rooms.

I hear the voice of my mother reading to me
from a chair facing the bed, books about horses and dogs,
and inside her voice lie other distant sounds,
the horrors of a stable ablaze in the night,
a bark that is moving toward the brink of speech.

I watch myself building bookshelves in college,
walls within walls, as rain soaks New England,
or standing in a bookstore in a trench coat.

I see all of us reading ourselves away from ourselves,
straining in circles of light to find more light
until the line of words becomes a trail of crumbs
that we follow across a page of fresh snow;

when evening is shadowing the forest
and small birds flutter down to consume the crumbs,
we have to listen hard to hear the voices
of the boy and his sister receding into the woods.



*********************
Any prince to any princess

August is coming
and the goose, I'm afraid,
is getting fat.
There have been
no golden eggs for some months now.
Straw has fallen well below market price
despite my frantic spinning
and the sedge is,
as you rightly point out,
withered.

I can't imagine how the pea
got under your mattress. I apologize
humbly. The chambermaid has, of course,
been sacked. As has the frog footman.
I understand that, during my recent fact-finding tour of the
Golden River,
despite your nightly unavailing efforts,
he remained obstinately
froggish.

I hope that the Three Wishes granted by the General
Assembly
will go some way towards redressing
this unfortunate recent sequence of events.
The fall in output from the shoe-factory, for example:
no one could have foreseen the work-to-rule
by the National Union of Elves. Not to mention the fact
that the court has been fast asleep
for the last six and a half years.

The matter of the poisoned apple has been taken up
by the Board of Trade: I think I can assure you
the incident will not be
repeated.

I can quite understand, in the circumstances,
your reluctance to let down
your golden tresses. However
I feel I must point out
that the weather isn't getting any better
and I already have a nasty chill
from waiting at the base
of the White Tower. You must see
the absurdity of the
situation.
Some of the courtiers are beginning to talk,
not to mention the humble villagers.
It's been three weeks now, and not even
a word.

Princess,
a cold, black wind
howls through our empty palace.
Dead leaves litter the bedchamber;
the mirror on the wall hasn't said a thing
since you left. I can only ask,
bearing all this in mind,
that you think again,

let down your hair,

reconsider.



*************************************************************
Poem: "Books," by Billy Collins, from Sailing Alone Around the Room (Random House).
Adrian Henri, from The Loveless Motel (Jonathan Cape).

well, howdy folks! and happy almost new year!
i hope that everyone's christmas was duck lovely. mine was pretty great, except for christmas day, but i will not torture y'all with the sad details. suffice it to say that we're all alive and fairly fit, fat, and sassy, so that's all that matters, right?
i had a very nice xmas eve. stewart and i delivered the results of our (and mr. x's) hard labour of love to bruffy's house. unbeknownst to them* we have spent a good part of the last two months (and a GREAT part of the last two weeks before xmas) BUILDING A DOLLHOUSE!!! :D
and it is beeee-yoo-tiful! i also did a special "Stewart's Day Off" as a xmas and thank you prezzie for Wet Rats, so with that and the pics i'm getting from buff tomorrow, and the digi pics of the dollhouse and a special diary comic i did years ago, we should have a totally updated Day Off SOON! woo! and YOU will get to see the dollhouse!
we had a lot of fun building it. and it was a lot of hard work, but it was worth every minute to see buffy bawl the second she tore the wrapping! yee-hah!
i also made a lot of jewelry this year. pretty necklaces and bracelets to adorn MY jewels. and they have all been sparklin', let me tell you. i've still got one project to finish and i shall do that tonight, 'cause the Wonderful BF comes home on "S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
not that i really CARE or anything... i mean, i've hardly even noticed that he was gone... for at least a whole minute. one day. last week. when i was really really busy doing something else, or maybe when i was asleep.
*sigh*
:)
now, before y'all go and start giving me hell about liking and missing a boy this much, i want y'all all to think back real far, real hard, and try to remember when i was this happy and comfortable and content and pleased and had someone who was really worth missing and being a schmoo over, and THEN give me some lip!
he is so great. kind and thoughtful and funny and smart and nice and not boring (despite the six previous adjectives) and he likes me, and his family seems to like me, and he has a job (pretty much THREE jobs), and he's responsible and punctual, and he calls me, and he apologizes when he's wrong, and he accepts my apologies gracefully when i'm wrong-ish :) , and he stands up for himself when he needs to, and he is both a pimp AND a professor-type**, and he (at least pretends to) like(s) my cooking, and he listens to me AND remembers what i said days later, oh, and did i mention that he is DROP DEAD !#@$ gorgeous? there is that. AND he has good taste in movies and music, and although we don't agree on everything, he liked Waterworld and when we don't agree, we are learning how to fight in a fun way. and he likes my friends, and they like him, and he's a complete and utter geek, and he takes me out and brings me treats and writes me notes, and he helps around the house, and he likes to go shopping and he dresses VERY cool (in a punk-rock/professor kinda' way), and I DIDN'T MAKE HIM UP. i swear!***
so, SHUT UP! ;)
it's true. i've not liked a (different) boy this much since i was 16. and i don't mean LURVED or wanted or w.t.f.e., i mean liked. and cared for and all those other things too. he's great. in fact, the ONLY bad thing about him is that he's NOT HERE! and has been gone for almost TWO WEEKS! moo!
so, in other words - DON'T CALL ME ON SUNDAY! (or maybe monday, either! ;)

i hope this new year brings you all good things. happy babies, and baby-mamas,
good outlooks on your job-fronts (my BIGHUGEFAT*** raise kicks in next week!!! OW!) happy love, even if that means your pets and parents, a good mental-health outlook and easy (and hopefully no MORE) jail-time (you know who you are), warm houses, fit bodies, even if that means someone elses' (OW!), good weddings, easy moves, safe soldiers, lush gardens, successful shows, miracle recoveries, easy passages, happy cars, good books, patience, some 'woo' and plenty of 'WHEEEEE!!!'*****

and cross your fingers for me, too. if the 'stars align properly' (ie: mandy can come), i will get to be together with ALL of my siblings, all five of us, in mid-january in san antonio texas. that would be the first time in MANYMANY years, and it would be a true-blue dream-come-true! all stories have to start somewhere - even sequels.

bless us all!
-sam

*and most of you, too, 'cause i couldn't talk about it here in case they read it
**i tell him that he's a cross between richie and fonzie. :D
***on my father's bream bed.
****i'm talkin' Gilbert Grape's mama-sized, for me.
*****jen, looks like you might your "Whee! and Woo" wish to the right Goddess on the right day of the year, girlfriend! xoxox

It's Christmas in Heaven
(turn your sound up folks - and put down your drinks and swallow before you click the link...)
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It's truly a real honourable experience to be here this evening, a very wonderful and warm and emotional moment for all of us, and I'd like to sing a song for all... of you."
-Graham Chapman as Tony Bennett, from 'The Meaning of Life"

I hope you all have lovely holidays.
Riddles, have a safe, wonderful, adventurous trip (no breaking your leg just to have an excuse to sit around in the cabin and read, Mr. X! :) Thank you for making me feel so welcome last night. You are all VERY special people...
Allens, drive safe, stay warm, think good thoughts...
Jeff - my middle-baby bro - might get to come on the Greyhound and stay a few days (!!!), wish him a good trip and wish us no fights... :)
Unkies, may you have all that you need and at least some of what you want...
All my outlying old-school homies in Mississlippi, Texas, Cali, Oregon, Lousy-ana, Kenturkey, Florida, ATL, Tikrit, Germany, Kuwait, etc. - I truly wish I could see every one of you and sit down for a drink and some stories and your smiles. That would be the best present I could have...
And mo Seamus, in the far away misty Shire*, I am missing you most of all, strangely enough**. I hope you read this, I hope you know that you are on my mind every day.
I hope that you have stockings hung and stuffed with chew-toys and those yummy little bacon things you sent Luna last year (i left one in her tin to make the rest of her treats smell good, mmmmm... :) I will be off for TEN DAYS after today (except for 3 hours on Tuesday p.m.) EXERCISE YOUR BANANA!!! :D
Happy holidays, lovelies. I hope that those around you remember the TRUE meaning of this holiday season - GOOD FOOD, WARM*** CLOTHES, AND EXCUSES TO PARTAY WITH YOUR DEAR ONES!!!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
-Sambolina Queena' the Geeks

*slowwwwwly being taken over by the armiesof Sauron and industry... :(
**considering that we've never met and all...
***i know i've said "warm" a lot in this post, but it is VERY !@#$ cold here and i still have no propane, so needless to say, it is on my mind! :)

ok. i know i have been WAAAAAYYYYY slack on the posting here, i'm sorry. life is veryvery busy - working hard as one of santa's most cheerful and spunky little elves...
*snark*.
ok, half of that is true. i AM busy, i AM doing xmas stuff, and i AM enjoying it. it's causing me a lot of pain, but it's worth it...
the good news is, with me working so much and not having time to post, you good people are not having to read a.) mooshy sentimental maudlin holiday stuff, b.) horrible sad homesick miserable family stuff.
so, merry christmas!
i will try to get back to my usual griping self soon!
(there is MUCH to tell! :)
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
-sambolina grinchie-pie

well, i did get some new tires. two, for esmes front "feets". i got them for exactly 100.00, too. Yay, me and Esme!
In other happy news - the pianist for MAKTUB signed my guestbook! EEEEEEEE!!!!!
They are SUCH a good band. Do yourself a favor and go to this page and listen to "Just Like Murder". that's the tune that hooked me, and I promise it'll hook you, too, but i tell you, the whole album is gold, and the band members are OBVIOUSLY nice guys (thanks for writing, Daniel! who rocks? you do! :D)
well, i don't know if i told y'all, my painting sold 403$ worth of tickets. but for those of you who are sad that you didn't win it - the go-ahead has been given for making NOTECARDS and POSTERS!!! yay, me!!! on top of that, the sweet lady who won the painting* has decided to donate it back to the library for the children's area in the new building!
also, i got a nice xmas bonus (back shoes and new ball joints for esme!), and i think my raise begins in january. this is a good thing, as i still have no propane, and it is getting cooooooold.
i'm happy to have all this good news. the only bad news is that i am in an unbelievable amount of pain again, and i was not nice to my veryvery sweet boyfriend this morning, and i feel really bad about it. i have apologized a million times - even after he accepted my apology the first time, but i think it's what's at the root of it all, (maybe even the pain, or at least some of it) that's really bothering me.
All in all, besides being broke and swamped and chrismussed-to-death**, things are alright.
i like alright.
take care loves,
-miss sam


*one of our volunteers. she lent one of our patrons a dollar for a ticket, and when the patron repaid her, gigi told her that she should use the dollar to buy a ticket, so she did, and she won! then the nice lady she'd lent the $ to decided to make a quilt for the f.o.t.l. to raffle, too! :)
**this is, as nanny ogg would say, a double intender, and not always a bad thing. :)

It seems easy to find despair sometimes. The world IS a crazy place, and sometimes it’s hard to be brave when you’re a very small animal… Things are extra-especially scary right now, out in The Big World; and close to home, there is winter and money-stuff and health-stuff and every day stuff as well as The Big World to worry about. It is very true that we have to WORK to be happy. We have to sift through the junk and ashes and find the shiny good stuff. We have to really look at ourselves and our beliefs and opinions and the way we treat others and ask ourselves: “Can I be happy?” And then, we just have to BE.
But it isn’t easy, and people do a lot of bad, crazy things out of fear. So you have to persevere – and not become hard or cynical. You have to be The Fool, and take chances and trust and jump again and again and again.

Yesterday, the lovely lady who sold me Esme – my great pickup truck – came in to get my monthly payment. She brought me cookies, and we talked about various things – including a subject that means a great deal to both of us - trying hard to be a light in the darkness. We have discussed this from many angles, many times, and we never tire of it. It matters.
She told me this parable* that really struck me:

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that was going on inside himself. He said, "My son, it is between 2 wolves." "One is evil: Anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego... The other is good: Joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith..." The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?" The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one I feed."

After we talked, she thanked me for the payment and left. A minute later she came back in with the money in her hand and said, “Sam, I want you to take this back and get some new tires**. If you don’t have enough, we’ll help you.”

It is plain which wolf she feeds, and I think it must be plain which one I feed too, because I am blessed and loved and helped in many ways, by many people. I am glad that I can see that, and appreciate it, and continue to see the glimmer in the ashes. I have survived a lot of bad things, some things that even people close to me have a hard time imagining, and yet, I am chumbawumba and mystikal!*** : ) And so are the people I choose, who choose to be around me. And for that, I am most grateful.

Feed the right wolf, peeps.
Love,
-sia

*which, apparently EVERYbody in the known world has heard but me! ;)
**my tires are REALLY bald and bad, and everyone has been warning me, but I simply have not had the money.
***"I get knocked down, but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down",
"But until you seen me...trust me, You ain't seen bouncin' back…"!

SNOW! ICE! RAIN! ARGH! BLAR! YUKYUKYUKYUKYUK!!!
Um, I mean, "Oh, the weather is so lovely here now... Everything is glittery and glistening... it's especially nice WHEN YOU'RE !@#$ SLIDING ALL OVER THE !@#$ ROAD, SO THAT WHEN YOU SPIN AROUND YOU GET THIS !@#$ KALIEDOSCOPIC-SNOW-GLOBE !@#$ EFFECT... I mean, awwww.... it's so nice that there's white and icicles everywhere, in fact, I hardly even notice that I have no !@#$ HEAT or INSULATION in my house and I can't even walk to my !@#$ truck - WHICH I CAN'T EVEN DRIVE ANYWHERE - without slipping all over the !@#$ driveway...
raar.
*sigh*
Well, there are two consolations. 1: Sallie can - and will come in and open most days when I can't get here; and 2: I have the smooshiest, sweetest (not to mention HOTTEST! OW!) beau, who will snuggle till the very last minute in the mornings, go and fill the kerosene thingie in the arctic pre-dawn, make veryvery good coffee, and will drive my sad, coastal-weather drivin' @$$ to and from work when he is able. Oh, and take me out for sushi just 'cause it is Wednesday. YAY, ME!
Yay, X?, too. You reallyreallyreally are the m.m.
Moo.

Stay warm, peeps!
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
-Sambolina

Today is my mother’s birthday. I think she’s 53 – I was born a little over three months before her 18th birthday. Though by now, that may be just another one of my lies, too… Maybe she had me when she was 15, or maybe when she was 21. Or maybe never.
When I was six she told me that babies came from under a mushroom (or maybe a cabbage…). Perhaps that’s where I was found, and that could explain all the mysteries of our relationship, and my relationship with the whole family. Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that easy?
53 (give or take) years of mighty raw power in one tiny little package. She is definitely one of the most mentally and physically impressive people I’ve ever known. At a little over 5 feet, and around a hundred pounds, with piercing blue eyes and a very wicked, winning smile, she looks like a coiled spring, and has a personal presence that has to be witnessed to be believed.
She has a sharp, brilliant mind, an amazing amount of skill and talent, and a survivor ability that I am proud to have inherited. There is a lot of her in me, and with one exception – my ability to truly frighten people with a quiet word or a look* – I am very proud of all of it.
She’s also terrifying to me – the only person I’ve ever been genuinely and consistently afraid of, and she has a streak of weakness that I will probably never be able to understand. She might say, now, that she treated me the way she did so that I wouldn’t have that same streak, but more likely she would say that I don’t know what I’m talking about, as usual.
There is another woman here, a friend, who recently did something that disgusted and disappointed me deeply. I couldn’t understand my tremendous anger over a situation that no longer affects me directly (though it did at one time) but it didn’t take me very long at all to trace that connection back to home. There is something about seeing a strong, intelligent woman fall prey to her own weakness for a man – ESPECIALLY a bad man, that I cannot forgive – especially when they bring other people** down with them in their madness.
My mother and I have not had a real conversation in many years. Not since before dad and Robbie died. There are a lot of reasons for this, all of which are publicly known as my fault. And I’ll take that. I know the truth, and my brother knows the truth and that’s all that matters. That, and that my mom is happy because I’m not rocking the boat. She is a new person, with a new life, and my truths and myself just don’t fit in there. It’s the only way. I understand that, she generally seems to accept it, but the rest of the family doesn’t. Because of this, I periodically (every time I see them) have to go through the “Sam, how can you be so unforgiving? How can you keep doing this?” And I always say “I can’t explain it to you. There’s more to it than you know or want to hear.” And this is the truth. I always ask them “Why? Why would ANYone do this to their own mother if there were no reason for it? There have been a million times over the years when I’ve wanted and needed her – why would I shoot myself in the foot for no reason?” But they don’t hear me. I think two of my favorite aunts have come to understand it pretty clearly, and another of them, my dearest, understands more than she lets on, but she has to be neutral, because she loves us both so much.
It’s so hard. I have only two choices. To continue to appear to be this unforgiving, stubborn liar, or to put myself back under the horrible strain of smiling and pretending and accepting and allowing everyone to believe that I’ve admitted to the lies and suffering the fear and mind-breaking stress that I lived under, in silence, until I was brave enough to walk away.
Of course, the other, obvious option would seem to be just telling the truth. Everyone talking and getting it out and going on, with clear consciences and lighter hearts and a better understanding of each other. Then I could have a mother, and she could have a daughter, and we could make a new life together. But it has been made quite clear to me that this is impossible and will never happen. Although the one being stubborn, bullheaded and lying, she is the one who refuses to discuss or even acknowledge the past.
So, c’est la vie.
The important thing is that she is happy now, and so am I, relatively speaking. The dream is that we could be happy together, but someone very close to both of us said that they believed that this would never happen. So we just have to accept that and move on.

I will never have a chance to say to her, face to face, that I think I understand why things happened the way they did. That I can imagine what it must have been like for a woman like her – like me – a free spirit, a wild heart a great mind, a broken soul to be saddled with three small children by the time she was 21 and a husband that was just another kid, more of a hindrance than a help, and incapable of satisfying her desire for attention and passion. To see her life cut short, changed irreparably because of lack of choices. She could have been or have done anything, but instead she took what looked like the best path, and it turned out to be a very hard one. She, like me, wasn’t cut out to be a wife or a mother – at least not then. I understand her anger, her lashing out, her specific attitude toward me, her misery, and her feelings of entrapment. It is my own greatest fear, too.
I know I’m not her, that I was just a child, that I don’t know what she went through as a child, but I was never offered her insight on those things. Those things, just like my memories, apparently never happened either. But I can imagine. And I can forgive, knowing those things.
But my forgiveness is not required or requested. It only really matters to me. I have to go on and forge a relationship with my mother that is now, ironically enough, all in my head.
I do think of good times – and there were a few. I do tell people good things about her, and I remember her strengths and accomplishments with pride.

I hope and pray that she is happy now, and I mother myself and let my friends do it for me when I can. What else can I do?

It’s all in my head anyway, right?
Right.

Hug your mothers if you can.
-sia


*this is something that would be very hard for just anyone to comprehend without experiencing it. My ex-husband saw it in both of us, and a couple of my friends – one very recently – told me that I did this to them, and I felt so bad because it was so easy to remember how horrible that felt. One look or one sentence, and you are filled with a sickening dread. Ask Stewart, ask Steve or Rob. It’s awful.

**especially their children.

Hello, snow monkies. Brrrr! I tried as hard as I could to hold it off, but it looks like winter’s really going to move in ANYway. Bluh.
Alright, bad start, as I have sworn to try harder to be more cheerful about it. It helps that my dear, sweet, feathery, plastic* beau HATES the snow, too, ‘cause the last thing you want when you’re cold and snokky and having to drive bad roads is someone who is disgustingly perky and hillbilly about the whole thing.
Raar.
It snowed last night. Pretty seriously, in fact. Badly enough that Stewart didn’t want to risk driving home. And then this a.m., sure enough, Cane Creek was a sheet of ice. Poor little Neville**…
The up-side of this, however, was that it was beautiful – that part of the country, in Fairview, is lovely – and the company and food and entertainment were excellent. We were stuck at Bruffy’s big, beautiful, comfy new house, we’d been cooking all evening (I made a cranberry apple pie) and we had burritos and turkey day leftovers… and there were LOTS of the geeks there – Buffy, Brett, Ari and Skye, of course, Stewart, Chris and myself, Ursula came with Isaac and Gavin, and Andi, Brian and Aeryn made it, too. Oh, and Elia and Inky (THE best cat ever) too. It was Bruffy’s first snow AND big gathering at the new crib, so that made it extra special. The boys played Magic, and then we all watched the extended DVD of “The Aragorn Show”… sorry, I mean “The Two Towers”… :D Well, ok, I mostly slept… but that’s ok, too!
The crew got to meet Mr. Riddle for the first time, and just as I suspected, he fit right in. Yay, us!
It’s a new, very happy experience for me to be able to bring my “romantic” life and my “social” life (my beau and my family) together. I had no doubts that they would click, and I am so delighted that Chris wants to hang out with them. That means the world to me. He really is the Best Boy.
Mrowr!

Ok, here’s another poem for you lot. It’s a very meaningful one to me, for lots of very obvious reasons, but it also made me think of my good friend (and last year’s roomie) Jen. She is a survivor, too, but she told me once that she has a tendency to always be looking down. She says she often misses the BIG details for gazing so intently at the small ones. Jen is an amazing girl. I am proud of her for grabbing life by the ears and saying “NO! Do it like THIS!” :D She’s a badass, beautiful girl who can do anything she sets her mind too, and if the $#*! hits the fan, she is DEFINITELY one of the people I want in my bunker. She and Burt are bringing another little Amazon Warrior Woman into the world*** very soon, in January. Arianna Caitlin – last name still undecided****…
I think Jen – and all of you survivors – will appreciate this bit of verse.
Stay warm, stay healthy, and count your blessings.
Much love,
-Sam

Survival Skills

Here is the virtue
in not looking up:
you will be the one
who finds the overhang
out of the sun
and something for a cup.
You will rethink meat;
you will know you have
to eat and will eat.
Despair and hope you keep
remote. You will not
think much about the boat
that sank or other boats.
When you can, you sleep.
You can go on nearly forever.
If you ever are delivered
you are not delivered.
You know now, you were
always a survivor.



Poem: "Survival Skills" by Kay Ryan from Say Uncle (Grove Press).

*don't ask. we have adjective issues. :)
**Neville is Stewart’s Golf. It’s green, though. And a very good car.
***I’m tellin’ ya… we’re gonna take over!!!
****you have NO idea how very “Jen and Burt” this is… let’s just say it’s a good thing they didn’t have to make the decision on ‘boy’ or ‘girl’… *sheesh!* :D

Hello, folks! And Happy “Gorging-Yourself-On-Good-Rich-Food-With-Family-and-Sitting-Around-in-Front-of-the-Ballgame-Feeling-Like-an-Agitated-but-Soporifically-
Happy-Blowfish” Day!
I hope that none of you get in fights, that all your cooking goes well, that none of you miss your late loved ones and far-away kin too badly, and that you manage to eat just enough so that you don’t feel sick.
I am going to spend the day with my Rennie family, at Buffy’s mom and dad’s. Buff, Brett and the girls will be there, too, as well as Brian, Andi and Aeryn. Buffy’s brother Nate (who I have looked forward to meeting for a while) and his girlfriend will be there (I think.. Jill?) and I’m not sure who else. It sounds like a good time, though, and I am hoping that Stewart will be able to come by after his fam’s do, too. My job is to bring the green bean casserole and my dad’s famous ambrosia. Buffy told me yesterday that I could come or not, but that the ambrosia BETTER be there! (Dad, wherever you are, I hope you heard that. : )
Chris will spend the day with his family tomorrow (HI, RIDDLES! : ), but on Friday, he, Stewart and I will go up to Fairview in the late afternoon, to B&B’s and the boys are going to play Magic while I entertain the Brufflets. (Buffy will be off braving the outlet malls with her mama… ) The girls and I are gonna make a cranberry apple pie… Mmm!
When Buff gets in, we’ll make a grocery run and get stuff for burritos, ‘cause we KNOW everybody will be cooking/turkey tired. Ursula and her boys will be there, too! Yay!
Sounds like a good day, and Chris will finally get to meet some of MY “family”. I think it will be a good collusion. Yay, me! And yay, Chris!, too, because he will be meeting some of THE best people in the Universe.
As always, I am most thankful for my good friends/family - and that means the family I have that is not related by blood and the friends I have that are. Joe and Ellie, as much fun as I’ll be having, I wish I could spend this holiday with you. I love you and miss you, very much. Aunt Sue and the rest of the Queen Bees, too. She’s still in the hospital, and I would love to smuggle in some turkey and fixings for you like dad did for me the last time I was in Methodist with pneumonia… (Miss Kittrell came to see me that day, too.)
Charlyn and her clan, my other Asheville/Hooterville beloveds, the Outlanders off in school, James, Unky, Bryan and his girls, Rob, the Austin Peopos, my Hattiesburg/Texas Geek-homies, the NOLA freaks, Rory and Julia, Sandy up in Portland…
I wish we could ALL be together, but at least writing this list really makes me realize how very lucky and blessed I am, how much I have to be thankful for.

Oh, also to let y’all know, my painting was raffled off today – we sold 403$ worth of tickets! And the winner was one of our Columbus library Volunteers! Woohoo!!!
I also found out that they are going to be making notecards and possible prints of it for sale, which is nice and an honor. I am pretty dang proud of all of that. : )

Ok. That’s my basic news. Isn’t it nice that it’s all pretty good?
Wishing you all the same, ad THEN some!
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
-Miss Sam

Here's yet another good poem from the writer's almanac. He - Garrison Keillor - is good about printing the poems that echo what's going on in the world. Some days, I feel like he knows what I'm thinking about for sure.
Winter is coming, and you all know how I feel about that. I haven't been able to fill my propane tank for my heater yet, and so I tell everyone that the unnaturally warm winter/Indian summer that we're having is simply prolonged by the force of my will...
Well, stranger things have happened...

My good friend Mike came and had dinner and watched a movie with me last night, it was good to be with him, and to watch a flick that really meant something to him. It's always like a window into someone's soul/psyche when they share an important film or book or song with you... Mike is my oldest friend here in the Carolinas, and he is tried and true. He's doing well, too, and that makes me happy.
Chris came and crashed last night too, and we all had a good chat. I like it when nerds collide... :)
This morning Chris drove me to work, and the three of us went to Mickey-D's for breakfast. On the way there, Chris said, "I got you something." and he reached into his (phat-ass 70's professor pimp corduroy) jacket pocket and pulled out a vanilla Olivero and a packet of matches in a little cigar-sized zip-loc. Man, am I smitten.

Chris is smitten, too, but I think it's with Mike's beautiful, beautiful car*! :D

Better days, folks. God is in the details.
Here's your poem - a very good representation of my feelings about the coming winter.
Much love,
-sam

The North

The ancients knew the sorrows of exile:
If you weren't hanged, they'd pack you off
To the far ends of the Earth,
To go on grumbling, writing endless petitions
That would never reach the Emperor.

The North always the place of punishment:
Unforgiving cold, rags on your back,
And the company of a few sullen barbarians
At day's end when the wind parts the clouds
And the stars seem to be mocking.

Every few years a garbled message from home.
Memory paying a call in the wee hours:
A mother's face; the company of merry friends
At the long table in the garden;
Their wives baring their throats in the afternoon heat…

"The sages suffered, too, exiled from truth,"
That's what you tell yourself…
Not many are meant to retrace their steps
And behold the splendors of the capital
Even more seductive than when you knew them.

The North always the place of punishment.
Deep snow. Blue-veined trees and bushes
Rising against the pink-colored morning sky…
So that briefly, in that one spell,
Your heartache hushes at the beauty of it.


Poem: "The North," by Charles Simic, from The Book of Gods and Devils (Harcourt, Brace and Company).

*MIke is going to send me a link to a paper that he wrote - AND won a prize for about his "Sweet Melissa" - maybe I can talk him into sending photos, too. I am SURE he has some!

Poem: "Call and Answer," by Robert Bly.

Call and Answer

Tell me why it is we don't lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?

I say to myself: "Go on, cry. What's the sense
Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!"

We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.

Have we agreed to so many wars that we can't
Escape from silence? If we don't lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.

How come we've listened to the great criers-Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglas-and now
We're silent as sparrows in the little bushes?

Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.

it's been a RAAAR! day, and i'm not sure why (but only 'cause i haven't had time to really sit down and think about it...), especially considering that it started out so nicely with a veryvery handsome gentleman treating me to breakfast and being so sweet...
sallie thinks i'm allergic to eggplant*. i have been sick with a cold, and i think it's turning to bronchitis. lovely. bluhr. i just want to be 'baby', like when i was a kid and sick, i want to be loved and petted and brought mushroom soup with a straw** or gingerale and sherbet. but mostly love is what i need. the snuggle-up skwooch kind like where it just means "aw" and nothing else. dad was good at that, and so was steve...
stewart is doing the best he can, he's invited me over to watch the Two Towers(!!!) extended version(!!!), yay! and sallie was talking to me like we talk to our dogs. which is nice. she's a good cheerleader.

i found out from rob today that sloane's girlfriend tried to go with him. i feel for her so much, to wake up (27 hours) after trying that and finding your love that way. but she woke up, and that in itself is a miracle. i wish i could talk to her. i am sure that she is having a really hard time, but i hope she realizes that she lived for a reason. who knows why, but she was just not meant to go. i pray that she gets some help, and i pray that she learns to love herself and life, and that she can learn to be all the way alive, to live to live life to the fullest - enough for herself and the memory of sloane.
sad, sad, sweet babies. my heart goes out to her.

last night chris brought a movie that was the most amazing thing i've ever seen on film (and i've seen a lot of amazing film). it was called "Russian Ark" and it is a film about the history of the russian people that was filmed in ONE SHOT and ONE TAKE.
it was incredible! beautiful, lush, amazing, stunning, and a MIRACLE of film-making. DO see it, and be sure to go potty and get a drink before you start it because you will not want to pause it or leave it until it is done. in fact, it seems that it would be a crime to do so.
(rory, if you read this, please write me and tell me what you thought of it. i remember how impressed you were with that one long tracking shot in... was it goodfellas? i thought of you.)

i'm also delighted that i have someone who will bring me rare films like this and then curl up on the couch with me and watch them, and have good discussions afterwards.
what a treat. i am a very lucky girl.

i think i am also a fairly sick girl, so i hope i get some good rest tonight. i've forgotten what all the rest of the week has in store for me, but i hope it's good.
i hope the same for all of you.

oh, before i go. y'all send good thoughts out aunt sue's way. she is still in the hospital and about to undergo the third surgery on her hip. i finally talked to her last night and her spirits were good, but i know she's trying to be a trooper. she has a few complications, but aunt rhonda is looking out for her, so she is in good hands, and her doctors sound like they are doing a good job.
i wish i could go see her for christmas...

if wishes were horses, huh?
much love,
-sam

*ask me in person, or e me, if you reallllllly wanna know.
**gramma cut a giant pixie stick for me to use as a straw so the mushroom bits could get through. that's love. and ingenuity.

well, my fingers are starting to look less like boiled kielbasa (ewwwww!) and more like just severely heat-damaged fingers. this is a good thing. sallie was starting to get pretty grossed out by the whole effect, and they were the source of mine and my beau's first fight... raar!
so what else is news?
i auditioned for a play in asheville and got multiple very choice roles - but i turned them down for several reasons, mainly that my time and $ are so very dear these days and priority-wise, it wasn't prudent. i really want to spent any spare time i have being with my friends, helping with the faire where i can, and working on my art. i was WAY flattered to get cast so nicely, especially since i have NO experience with this kind of theatre. i do hope i get another chance someday.

my doctor has come to some sort of conclusion re: what's wrong with me, but as far as i can see, he's based this diagnosis on nothing more than a complete lack of evi-dence. all hail modern medicine. he seems to have decided on fibromyalgia, and he has prescribed me an antidepressant because fibromyalgia is an "emotional illness".
i told him that he might consider investing in a police riot shield if he felt that he was going to have to be giving that speech to a lot of women who had been in pain and feeling weak and exhausted for a long time.
i told him i'd try it though, because i told my friends and my family and myself that i would go to the doctor and that i would do what i was told. within reason. so he gave me five weeks of samples - that's the prerequisite two weeks to let it "build up in your system" and then three weeks of seeing what it's like. it's not one of the strong ones, and it's a low doseage, so we shall see. if it does what he says it's supposed to, and it doesn't numb out my feelings like the drugs i took when i was dependant on the mississippi mental health system*, then i will give it a shot.
we shall see.

there's other stuff going on, too. good and bad, happy and sad. one of my old friends from hattiesburg committed suicide this weekend. he was a very broken young man. life and his father had seen to it that all his possible defenses were removed. he subsisted by trying to exist in a state of complete drug oblivion. he would take ANY kind of drug, and when nothing else was available, he would huff glade air freshener. needless to say, those moments are my most vivid memories of him, but i have some gentler ones, too. he was a beautiful person, physically, and he had a sweet and erudite soul. in those extremely rare moments that he felt safe enough to let that show, he wrote poems and talked about words the way i love to. he came to my house fairly often, seeking warmth and safety. i am sad that his life was like it was, and as horrible as it seems to say this, i'm glad that he finally found some kind of real peace.
sleep well, sloane. i hope it's maxfield parrish land for you, wherever you are.

now i am off, to warm my house, love my dog, and let someone hold me.
wishing you all such simple pleasures,
-sam


*now THAT'S a scary thought, innit?

What a special treat I got this morning!!! I stopped this morning at the Triangle Stop (for 2-!@#$ dollahs worth of gas – times can be hard on the mean skreetsa Polk County…) and when I finished, I turned to head toward the store to pay and *BINK!* , there was this big, beautiful boy leaning against my truck – ADAM PALMER! (Baby Vin, the VP of the B.B.B.D.F.H.*) home from boot camp, looking like a million dollars - and heading out tomorrow to Iraq or Kosovo, or some other horrible place that he should ABSO-!@#$-LUTELY NOT !@#$ BE! I jumped a foot in the air, squealed like Bob Barker had just called me to “Come on down!” and threw my arms around his neck… He looked wonderful (and felt even BETTER! OW! Boot camp has been good to him, baby-fat-wise! Holy cow! His arms felt like crepe myrtle branches!) He looked different, more grown up. There was a depth to his expression that I’d never seen before, maybe due to the fact that he is shipping out to this horrible, pointless war.

Let me pause here to stop being nice and publicly state that George W. Bush is a complete idiot, and an evil, careless, unrighteous dictator. When he and his Heavy Duty Crew-style Posse single-handedly and quite completely destroyed democracy in this country by fixing our most sacred electoral process, all illusions of us being a truly free country died. He can claim a lot of things for his stint at the helm of this great nation, but I hope the world always remembers him as the man who made America, it’s Constitution, and all of it’s bold, daring claims to freedom and democracy a complete LIE. There is a great ripple of fear among my friends and loved ones that he will be re-elected, and there is a glimmer of unbelievable sweet and naïve hope for Howard Dean, but I believe there will be no election. Just like last time, they will lie and cheat and fix the books (or the chads or whatever) and we will take it just like we did before. Or maybe just forego it, call it a National Emergency, and just appoint Herr Bush Der Commissar. Our flag has been reduced to a muddy rag, our constitution to scrap paper. They might as well take a crayon and re-write it so that the Governator can step into office and be a Bush-puppet when they can’t figure out how to make the Twins co-presidents. Our claims to being the land of the brave and the home of the free are no more. We slept on the job and now we can’t go back. We took that last slap in the face, in Florida and in the entire nation back in 2000, lying down, and now we’re down and we just accept it. I am ashamed of all of us, including, maybe especially myself. We all say “but what can I really do?!?!” We believed all along that our vote counted for something, and they proved us wrong and drank champagne over it. I predicted on “election” day that The Big Idiot would have no choice but to get us embrOILed in a war so that he could be a Cowboy and a Hero and show us his Big Guns, thus proving to us that the man who can cheat in an American Presidential Election can do any damned thing he pleases, including possibly arranging a few terrorist attacks (what’s another 3,021 people when we know we’re going to be racking up tens of thousands more in the coming war? Which ok, of course, because it’s good for the economy. Pigs.) to get the ball rolling. How disgusting. How unbelievable sick and wrong...
And my Adam, beloved, beautiful, brave boy will be sent into the teeth of George Fucking Bush’s mindless money campaign tomorrow. Adam, and supposedly another 84,999 just like him. Oh, it’s supposed to be over by June… and I suppose that Der Commissar will at least try to make it look like the brakes are on in time to justify rigging another election for himself, but can these boys and girls make it until June? And even the ones whose bodies come home in one piece, what will their hearts and minds be like for the rest of their lives – and does their government, their "fearless !@#$ leader", CARE?

(If Adam is hurt, if he has hard times afterwards when he does finally come home, I will go to Washington and I will be heard if I have to stand outside the Whitehouse and holler. I wish every injured person and family member would do that. I wish we – I – had done that when our Democratic process was sodomized back in 2000.)

But these soldiers, going, knowing what is really behind the whole thing anyway, doing what they believe is right, bless them. Love them, support them, pray for them, and pray for George Bush to never, as long as he lives, have another good nights’ rest for what he has done. He is no better than Hussein, who also has no conscience about what he does to his people and his country. Perhaps we should have just sent in Black Ops volunteers to do what really needed to be done, and perhaps they should have done the same.

Tonight, I will sit with Private Palmer, and look at his face and hear his laugh and his stories, and I will pray hard that he comes home safe to his terrified mama and his little brother. They are all that each other have. If something happened, would George Bush – or even his administration – take care of Gail and Isaac and Adam? No. They will leave that to us “free” people.

Pray for miracles, think (as) positively (as possible. physics proves that our positive and negative thought energy actively affects the world around us), support Howard Dean, support these soldiers, and don’t forget that it is really easy to kick and bite and scratch when you are lying down. In fact, it’s the one of the three places (besides in a corner and up against a wall) where you don’t have to watch your back, and it has the added advantage of leaving all of your limbs free for fighting...
…and most importantly, hold fast.

-sam



*Badass Biker Baby Ducks From Heck - guess who's Prez?

Y’know what?
I am overdue for a real rant.
I cannot be terribly specific about the subject of the following rant, because of legal issues, nor can I use certain language, because I want to be sure that EVERYbody can read this, so I will do my best to be non-specific as well as pc.
CERTAIN people in CERTAIN job and life positions have a certain habit of confusing their private lives with their “professional” lives and taking it out on those of us who couldn’t give a RODENT’S HEINEY! These certain people also have a tendency to confuse their maternal figures with EVERY OTHER BLOODY WOMAN ON THE BLOODY PLANET and lording their erstwhile “power” over anyone who can’t escape for fear of screwing up their ends*.
We all run into these little power mad bureaucrats every day, at the bank, managing our favorite stores and eateries, selling us leather and metal goods, making sure our garbage is picked up on time… and honestly, we ought to just be able to kick them. Or just slap them, openhanded, across their cheesy little facial hair/bald spot/smug face. We ought to get, like… one freebie a week. That should be how they justify the fact that they are so grossly overpaid for the heiney smooching that they do every bloody day in, day out. We should be able to TELL them how awful they are, how pointless their behavior is, how silly their suits are, and that should go at least a little way toward justifying the fact that we are ultimately the ones paying for their hair implants and trips to the Bahamas to drink Blo… um, Fruity Drinks On The Beach with oily enriques waiting on them hand and foot and …
What was my point here?
Oh yeah, SMACK ‘EM! Small price to pay, eh? For their perks and bonuses and kowtowing. Of course if every person they dealt with could smack them once a week, if they so felt the need, then things might get a little hairy for them, but then maybe they’d catch on, and the smackings would decrease exponentially with the increase in their improved outlook, open-mindedness and more decent treatment of their customers and employees.
It would certainly go a ways toward balancing out what we as shoppers, employees, etc. have to deal with not only from them but from the people on the OTHER side of us, too.
To heck with middle management! Poopie on them! May they all go all moldy in purgatory! May their rogaine be switched with Nair and their mustache trimmers go on the blink! May they be cursed with dandruff and laryngitis (and tourettes!) at the worst of times! May their cappuccino makers never work! May their hostessing always flop and may they spend eternity in hot coals up to their squid marks! Amen!

-Sam the Mad Magpie

*This is NOT an intentional Freudian slip, o’ those of you who know me, this is an ebonic reference, ‘ends meaning ‘cash flow’.

‘only time for a lunch-break quickie, but take it where you can get it, I always say… well, not always, but you get my drift…
The workshops are going very well. We have been a hit. We have been complimented and congratulated, and other than being dead-shagged-out at the end of each day, we have also had a good time(and some damned good food) AND learned a lot*. (I’ve also sold close to 250 raffle tickets! Woohoo!!!)
I am just bleeping in to share a tall tale with you. I’ve entered a little contest wherein you are s’posed to submit one of your family’s best tall tales (and hooboy do we have ‘em) and I thought I’d share my entry with y’all. Wish me luck – the first prize is pretty awesome, but even more than that is the whole tradition of stories like this that my Papaw EB instilled in me. This little tale is one that I first told to Papaw and his friends when I was a teenager, and it was my first one to ever tell to them, so it was like a rite of passage. I passed. Papaw was delighted. I could see it in his grin, and his buddies were fit to be tied…
This story is a conglomeration. Papaw actually told me this tale about King, I just added the story of Tippy myself to flesh out the contest entry, and the story of old Red is the one I told to Papaw and his friends that day, once upon a time…

“My grandfather, E.B., was a woodsman and a river rat, and he always had good stories. He always had good dogs, too. One dog, King, was so smart that when ‘Papaw’ drove out West to work for a summer, King hopped trains to follow him out there. Another dog, Tippy, would take the mail to the Post Office, and Papaw said that Tippy knew the local mail slot from the ‘Out of Town’… But it was old Red that was the smartest. Red was so smart, in fact, that Papaw could put a stretching board – a board with one rounded end used for stretching an animal, usually a raccoon hide to use for fur – out on the porch, and Red would go out and find a raccoon to fit the board. Sad to say, Papaw’s heart was nearly broken when he lost that dog. You see, one day Mamaw propped up her ironing board out on the porch while she was mopping the kitchen, and we’ve never seen that dog since. For all we know, old Red is STILL out in the Mississippi swamp, looking for a raccoon to fit that board.”

: )
love,
-Sambolina Lou River Rat Lovelace

* I can make a web page now!

I know that many of you have seen this photo gallery on my webpage (and in my home) and heard the stories of my cousin Robbie, and of our family’s terrible loss. I don’t want to be one of those people who seemingly harps on something grim, or who seems to never recover, but until you’ve been there, you simply can’t understand how important it is to never forget the person, or the terrible way they were taken.
A friend recently sent an e-mail warning women not to go outside without light, protection, etc. if they hear a baby crying outside their home in the dark. Apparently this is a way for bad people to draw women out of their homes. The e-mail said that these criminals will play recorded baby’s cries and then attack the women when they come to investigate.
Yes, this all sounds like a bunch of hooey. Urban legend material if you ever heard it. But the fact of the matter is that there are sick, brutal, clever people out there who just might try or do something like this. This particular story may be bunkum*, but the fact of the matter is that these things happen, every day unfortunately. Very unfortunately. And also very unfortunately, the reality of this doesn’t hit home – it’s all “Hannibal Lecter” and cool scary books – until it happens to someone that you know and love.
Not harping, folks, just remembering. On All Soul’s Day (Nov. 1) I – along with a lot of other folks, pagans and papists alike – I spent the day thinking about Robbie and Dad, and other loved ones that have gone on. They all hurt a little, I miss them all, but the circumstances of Robbie’s murder is a big scar on my heart and mind, one that will never go away, one that will never even soften with time.
You can’t hide under the bed for the rest of your life, or live in a glass box, for fear of these sorts of things. But yet you have to be aware of the possibilities. Awake, aware, and living life wisely AND to the fullest. Whether this baby-cry story is a hoax or not, it’s a reminder that we cannot afford to be careless. It is possible to live a live of joy as well as vigilance. In fact, that is what all true survivors – and all their following successful generations do.
Sleeping well, but always keeping my sword and shield close by,
-Miss Sam


*sorry, librarian geek word-nerd fact, the word ‘bunkum’ came from ‘Buncombe County’
(Asheville NC is in Buncombe county). I find this EXTREMELY amusing, especially as I use the derivative “bunk!” a lot… here’s a nice link explaining the tale… and by the way, this is NOT bunkum, many dictionaries reference this as the origin of the word.