I MADE IT! YAY!

There it is, kids.  I got my fifty-thou' in just now and am going to promptly dunk my hands into a bucket of bengay.  This is, for those of you keeping track, my third go at this.

The first was The Victorian
Followed by my story about ARBUX
and now this is a collection of short stories and contents of my brain.

I feel good.  I'm glad I made it.  I did NOT think I was going to be able to cut it this year, but there we are.  I'll do the lessons learned episode later on, when I can feel my fingers again.

Owwwww.

also.  YAYYY!

This Just In: It's Happening Again!

Got a super slow start - have prepared NOTHING - but after last night (and being unable to sleep for the thoughts and stories clawing at the backs of my eyeballs)  I have decided to go for it again.  This time?  Short stories.  A marathon of sprints.  I can forsee MANY new hurdles as well as some powerful hand-cramps. 

Let's see what happens this year.  If I hit my goal - I may go through my lists in here and tuck in a few of my good little stories from bloggings past. 

We shall see.

Nanowrimo.org  For More Information

Newsflash: I did not chicken out.

Book Lovers Bazaar (you know that thing you're sick to death of reading about in here?)  it happened, it's over, and it was great.

I sold some books.  I made some friends.  I went home and slept for three hours.  Huzzah!

Publicity Stunt: Change of Venue

As you may have noticed on my page for The Victorian, I'll be participating in a little book-y love in public this year!

You can find me here on September 20th.  They're still working out some of the finer details but good golly it's so on!  I'll be at a table of my very own, signing copies (and yes, fear not, I have loads) as well as moderating a panel discussion about self publishing.  Huzzah!

Ooph.  I'm terrified.  That must mean I'm doing it right!

See you there, eh?

http://bookloversbazaar.com/

A Podcast? Seriously?

Oh yes, noble readers.  I was a guest on a podcast.

I dare not spoil it for you.  If you have a chance, do check out The Nerd Burger Show.

I am episode 70.

It is a vortex of all things nerdy, silly, and wonderful.  I'd like to thank my hosts for being so charming, so funny, and for instantly putting shy and delicate little me (PAH!) at ease for the duration of our chat.

Keep it up, guys.

GOING OUT IN PUBLIC!

Book signing day!

Huzzzah!

So the good news is that I finished writing my second novel.  We're down to a few quick plot checks and some spelling/punctuation reviews.  Once I have my illustrator (love you mom) turn in the few sketches we need for the insides, we'll be ready to pull the trigger on that bad boy.

Then we can ALLL LOVE ARBUX together!

In the mean time, stalkers and minions alike, won't you come see me in a few months at the Lorton VA  Book Lover's Bazaar?   I'll be there selling/signing books and I'd love to see you.

I'm ALIIIIIVE!

for now.  ;)

Photobook

Fear not, noble stalkers.  While I've been off the radar I can assure you that things have been going very well indeed.  Here's a little photobook I made for our most recent vacation over the Memorial Day holiday - remembering the sacrifice by celebrating the soil the sacrifice was made for.  

Click here to view this photo book larger

You'll love award-winning Shutterfly photo books. Start your own today.

Celebrate

Happy Holidays.
However you may celebrate at this time of year, I encourage you to do so with your whole heart and soul.

Keep the Christ in Christmas with a happy heart as you wrap lights around that gorgeous christmas tree and decorate it with things like pickles and mushrooms and perchance a sheaf of wheat or three.

Love your family.  It's the one you're stuck with.
Love your friends.  They're the ones who stick with you.

Tell stories.  Laugh.
Eat.
Drink.
Do all that "being merry" business.

One god or tenthousand, this time of year has room for everyone.  Your love of your traditions in no way tramples my love of mine.  We can still sit together at the office white elephant party and secretly rejoice in the fact that we did NOT, in fact, open that present with the peppermint body oils in it.

Donate to a charity.  People and pets and wild lands alike all need an extra boost this time of year, especially those who have been abandoned and forsaken.  Unforsaking comes, this year, at the cost of pennies.

Join me, this year, in making the season what it was meant to be.  Work hard to rise above the madness and the futility and the finger pointing and even the inevitable political saber rattling.

Because at the end of the day, I need you as much as you need me.

And that suits me just fine.

So Happy.  You guys.

Happiest.

Holidays?  Yes please.  Happy ones.

Mandela.

Were it not for Johnny Clegg in my teen ears, I'd have known precious little about Mandela.

Or at least, what I learned in High School would not have stuck.

So now, I share with you what I know.

Asimbonanga--------------------(we have not seen him)

Asimbonang' umandela thina-----(we have not seen mandela)

Laph'ekhona--------------------(in the place where he is)

Laph'ehleli khona-------------(in the place where he is kept)

And may the music and dancing lighten your heart.
And may the light in our hearts guide all of our great ones to the next place.
And may we all be lucky enough to achieve a life of triumph over darkness, kindness over wickedness, and sweetness over hatred.
And if it takes us ten years or ninety five years, may we find our own goodness before the waters are crossed.

A holiday story

Well, we all know that I am not a Christian and that I hold to the Pagan faith of my ancestors.

So about this time of year, I get a lot of questions about what it means to live "without a moral compass" and "what do you celebrate at Christmas" and stuff.  I reply kindly, that I DO have a moral compass and that I DO celebrate Christmas as a holiday of inspiration, peace, forgiveness and human warmth.

And then the conversation usually drifts uncomfortably into other topics.  I have, however, recently found myself surrounded by like-minded people who follow the same or similar traditions to what I hold dear.  And as we are all learning and growing together and trying to develop a modern tradition that still upholds the traditions of our ancestors...  we all come together to learn from each other and tell stories and so on.  We do this a lot.  It is Awesome.

Recently I was asked to share a "holiday appropriate" story from my tradition (which is called Asatru but it's not the racist, bigotted version that gets all the press)  and I had to apologize because I don't have a tradition based on fluffy bunnies who save the day and then drink apple juice before bed time.

No, I'm afraid my tradition is built out of hard winters and bad soil and really REALLY hard decisions.

And still, the request persisted.  So I shared the story which I have now posted below.  It's a brief introduction to what a holiday festival might have been like, and meant to the community.  It is also an introduction to the injustice of older ways; a reminder that while traditions are important, some things (like slavery) from the old days are better left buried in the ground forever.

So here's a story of a spirit called "Nisse", which you'll likely think of as a little bearded gentleman in a red pointy cap and a smart blue coat.  That is as close an image to the real thing as Mickey Mouse is to real mice.  Hallmarks are there, but still, you know?  Anyway, I'll tell you the story now:

• So, once upon a time, in a farm you may have heard of just a few valleys over, there was a very prosperous farmer. He had horses and sheep and a great many Baandemen who worked his land for him. His was the farm at the center of a thriving, though small, community and everyone who knew him spoke of his bravery and kindness and fairness in all matters.  

  On this farm lived a young serving girl. It was her duty to keep the fires from dying and rekindle them quickly if they went dark. She was old enough for tasks like milking and spinning, too. Now it came to pass that it was a hard, dark winter. It was much colder than any had remembered and everyone had to work together to keep the livestock fed and safe.

  Everyone knew that their only salvation was their own work, aided, of course, by the nisse of the farmstead who were laboring tirelessly with the animals when the people were away. In the depth of this dark, harsh winter, came the festival of Jul. And during this time everyone gathered at the farmers large home to share in the warmth and revelry of his generously laid tables. His generosity did not stop with the people, either. He made sure to offer, during this period of celebration, extra food and as much spare bedding as he could afford to his livestock. And, as always, he poured a rich, frothy bowl of cream and fatty porridge as a gift for the nisse of his keep.

  When the slave girl saw this decadent bowl sitting on the floor of the barn in the dwindling candle light, her stomach churned with hunger. Her turn at the table wouldn't be for hours, yet, and her ice cold fingers longed to wrap around the steaming cream and butter to feel the warmth. Against her better judgement, she took a step closer to the holy offering made to the hidden folk who sacrificed so much to keep the farm healthy.

  She smelled the melted butter and her mouth simply ached for the smallest bite. She could resist no longer. She dipped her fingers into the porridge and scooped up a cautious mouthful and let it linger on her tongue. As she licked her lips clean, she felt a guilty shadow cover her and she immediately looked about her to see if her crime had been witnessed.

  Seeing no-one, she returned to her chores.

  It wasn't long, however, before she heard the gentle footsteps of unfamiliar boots. Her muscles froze and her candle blew out in an icy gust of wind.

  A tiny voice reached her ears:

  
  

  "Who has eaten my porridge?" the voice said.

  And the girl's skin crawled with fear. "Who has eaten my porridge?" the voice repeated, filling with jealous fury. And the girl closed her eyes, and turned around and whispered "I did, brother nisse." And she opened her eyes and saw that all of the candles in the room were burning brightly and the porridge bowl was upturned and the nisse stood upon it making a fearsome growl. "Then you shall be my prize this winter night, for you have eaten my only right, and from now until the dawn's first light you'll dance with me and you will not fight."

  And the girl's body began do move of its own accord, very much against her will, and the barn was ablaze with candle lights and laughter from a hundred throats she could not see. And she was embraced by the nisse and forced to dance with him, relentlessly, for hours and hours until dawn's first light finally broke over them.

  The next morning, a drunken stable-man found the girl's half-naked body in a heap just outside the barn. Her skirts were ripped as if they had been flown in the wind for a hundred years and her hair was pulled and tangled with filth from the barn. Her feet were bloody and a great deal of the flesh of her legs was missing.

  And everyone on the farm knew exactly what had happened.

  
  

  The End!  

  Sleep Tight Kids!  

Brain. Melted.

I'm telling you, the autumness of the east coast is just mind blowing!  The weather out here?  Fuggetaboutit.
The sunlight and sweatery-snuggled breezes?  Fuh-gettaboutit.
The food?  Holy shit you guys, the food....

Yup.  My brain is a fall colored puddle of happy.

Allow me to share:

Gosh Durnit, where'd she go again?

I promise I'm working hard on getting this second book out!

As an idea, and YES I want your feedback (trolls can suck it):

I'm thinking of doing promotional totebags to sell alongside my new book.  If I were to do such a thing, which design would you like better?

The name of the new book, work in progress mind you, is "Arbux"  which is the name of the giant that must be returned to Norway from 1938-ish Wisconsin.  The subtitle then, would be "Grand dad's Giant Journey" because it's being told by our narrator as a story told to him by his Gramps.

My hope is that we love Grand dad's advice as much as we love Arbux.

But maybe that's too lofty a goal?  Hmm.

SO tell me... what do you think?  Graphic A  or Graphic B?

A:  here we see a simple I Heart Arbux design, with the red square at the top to be replaced with one of those You Scan It QR codes to take our fellow Arbux-lovers to a website promoting (and explaining) the book.

 B:  Here we have a pen and ink-ish picture of Arbux walking probably toward us?  He has red pants on, see, so that's what that's about.  The quote is from Grand dad and the gray square there is the QR code for the advertisermenting.

And now, my great, beloved (and alarmingly patient) public:

WHAT SAY YOU?

Blue Meanies

My brother, bless him, just posted something on facebook and I'd like to spread it around some.

We all know that we shouldn't text and drive.  Right?
I mean, maybe some of us think we "can" because we haven't killed anyone yet or even so much as had a fender-bender while text-fully engaged.  Sure, I bet a lot of us actually feel like it's no big deal to take a few seconds on a long and boring drive to LOL this or thumbsup that.  You know?

I get it.  I do.

But do you get it?  Do you get how much you are relying on every single other person on the road with you to do nothing surprising?  Do you get how much you are banking on every other human to behave exactly the way you are expecting them to?  Maybe it's not about you.  I bet you CAN drive and text no worries.  But does everyone else know that?  And what about the single person having a bad day in front of you who knows you can drive while texting but doesn't know how good you are at avoiding an accident while texting?

How good are we at tire blowouts while texting?
Surprise pedestrians while texting?
Unexpected brake lights while texting?
Handling any, and every, possible emergency situation while texting?

I mean, we all have erasers on pencils right?  And we all wear seatbelts.
Why do we wear seatbelts?

And with that in mind, why would we take even a picosecond to read a text or check a website or open an email when we are in a situation that we think it's SAFE to wear a seatbelt in?

Accidents happen, right?

Wouldn't it be smart to have our text messages, emails and status updates happen in an environment where we're not encased in steel and glass and seven thousand other safety devices designed to keep us alive if something unexpected happens?

Motocyclists wear helmets for a reason. Not because they're bad at motorcycling or because they CAN motorcycle just fine without them.
We wear seatbelts for a reason.  Not because we're bad at driving or because we CAN drive just fine with out them.
There are seatbelts and roll cages and airbags and airhorns and little painted stripes on the roads...

...   all for a reason.

Won't you take a pledge with me against texting while driving?
Distracted driving, while usually fine, is always dangerous.  Like drunk driving.  Like putting on makeup while driving. Like having sex while driving.

Join me, won't you?

Promise never to text while driving.  And then to make it stick, pick a thumbnail and paint it blue.  It's solidarity with me, it's a reminder to you.

It tells everyone else who sees you (once you've explained yourself, if they ask) that you give a crap about if they make it home alive today.

Happy Monday

Lunch Date

What would you say, he said, if I told you I was a vampire?

I was eating my lunch at an outside table for the first time all summer.  It was the first warm day that wasn’t too hot or too humid and I was finally in the right mood for some people watching.  Against my better judgment I caught the eye of a middle aged man, clearly stuck on hard times, who had been canvassing passers-by for change and small talk. 

I smiled at him.  He was likely a homeless man and my instincts were aflutter with fear and derision and, in all honesty, not one wit of compassion.  His head nicked to one side sometimes and he made a fist at random moments as he paced back and forth on the sidewalk.  He was agitated.  He was stressed out.

I finished my sandwich and refilled my soda with lots of ice and mostly sprite. 

I regained my seat at the sidewalk.  I was in the shade as was the other chair at my table. 

The man glanced in my direction again. 

Against my better judgement, I nodded to him and gestured that he join me in my other shady seat.  I offered him my soda, which he accepted gratefully.

I said nothing.  I leaned back in my chair with my arms folded and smiled nervously at the happy day and the busy city bustling around me.  The man at my table sputtered and sighed heavily.

He said “thank you.”

He then asked me a question.  “What would you say” He said “If I told you I was a vampire?”

I responded cooly, and with neither a flinch nor a pause to betray my startled amusement.  “I’d say that you must be on hard times indeed.”

He nodded.  “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

I scowled.  “Should I be?”

He winced and kicked his chair nervously.  “No.  I’m not that kind of vampire I guess.”

I nodded.  “No.  You aren’t.  You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

He nodded again.  “Yeah.  Why’s it have to be so hard?”

I sighed and said, with genuine sadness “I don’t know.  But I’d be sad to know you didn’t go get help.”

He cringed and kicked his chair again.  “But you should run and hide.  I might find you and drink your blood!”

I shook my head slowly.  “But you don’t know who I am.”  I pulled my necklace out at that moment, my shining Mjollnir, my Thor’s Hammer.  His eyes grew wide.  I said calmly “You see, you have no power over me.  I’m not a Christian so I can’t be of any use to you.”

This frustrated him.  “You’re a witch!”

And I chuckled and said “Do I look like a witch?  No.  I’m no witch.”

He shook his head again and agreed with me.  He stuttered.  “You have magic though.”

And, noticing that we pretty much had the entirety of the sidewalk café to ourselves now, I said “Yes.  I do.” 

He bit his lip and coughed awkwardly as he bit the straw and looked around us.  “You do.  Can you fix me?”

My heart sunk.  I frowned.  “No.  I don’t think I can.  You need stronger magic than what I have.”

I could tell that his heart was weakening too.  He was less frantic now, and our conversation seemed to be the most coherent thing that had happened to him for weeks, so I allowed it to continue just a little longer.

I said “Give me your hand.”

Which he did.  He reached across the table and his muscles jittered and fluttered against his will.  I wrapped his fingers in my two hands and I stared at his eyes until they stilled.  I said “Seek help, find your strength, stay safe, and your miracle will come to you.”

His whole body slowed.  He bent his neck and touched his forehead to my kuckles.  When he raised his face again it was wet with tears.  I offered him a napkin and smiled warmly at him. 

I looked over my right shoulder.  Counting signs and looking for the awning. 

I pointed behind me and faced my lunch date.  I told him “Take heart, young soldier.  Your salvation is at hand.  Cross the street alongside strangers, so that you blend in.  When you see the red awning, go inside.  You will find mercy there.”

He bounced out of his seat like a golden retriever and shook my hand fiercely.  “Thank you, miss” he said “You saved my life.”

“I did no such thing.” I reprimanded.  “Tell no-one of your affliction.  Instead pretend your hardest to be a human, as I do, and all shall be well again.”

He nervously patted his head and carefully picked his way toward the street corner.  As people gathered, his confidence built.  He crossed with them and made it safely to the red awning.  A church.  They were about five minutes away from their next mass. 

I wished him well.

The store manager popped his head out to see if I was allright.  I was.  I thanked him for his kindness and he thanked me for mine.  And then we all went back to work as if nothing unusual had just taken place.

Because nothing had.

Ghosts Ride The Train Too

She was magnificent.

She was tall in a way that most people aren't.  She had that long-boned grace that you get from wearing breezy linen dresses in the sun and eating figs and strong tea on a beach at sunrise.  She had very short hair, cropped close to her scalp.  She had huge, captivating eyes and a smile that said "you're beautiful".

She asked with a nod if she could sit next to me.  She smelled like vanilla and coffee and fresh baked bread.
She carried nothing, no purse or bag.  She had a single pocket on her billowing white shirt in which she stowed her well-used metro pass.

Her knuckles clicked with delicate gold rings and there were multiple golden hoops dangling languidly down the curves of her ears.

She was ageless and she was all of time put together in a a breath.

Her hair was a silvery bronze and the lines in her face betrayed more experience than withering age.  She might have told me that she was a thousand years old, and I'd have accepted it as the truth without a second thought.

We sat together on the train, wordlessly full of our own thoughts.  She spoke to nobody.  Nobody tried to speak to her.

When her stop was nigh (the one right before mine), she caught my eyes with hers and grinned excitedly.  She patted my hands, which were resting on my lap.

Her touch was warm and gentle and kitten-y soft.  Thrills of peace shot straight up my arm.  She was going someplace special.  She shared that with me.  She stood, moved effortlessly out of the train, and then strode confidently onto the platform on her way to something perfectly amazing.

Pure sunlight filled me and made my cheeks hurt and my eyes ache and I'd have sobbed like an infant with heartache if I hadn't been surrounded by so many other people.

Had anyone else noticed her?

Had anyone else even seen her?

Where I have been

Heh, where haven't I been?

The answer to Where I have Been is largely the same as you'd expect.  Here.  I've been here.  Mostly.  It would appear that I sort of had to fall off the planet there for about a month but as you can see I'm now clawing my way back.

In the last month, it would appear, I did something marvelous.  By all accounts and standards, and according to several government agencies, I turned 37 years old.  How 'bout 'dem apples, eh?  I don't dye my hair and I love that the new texture of my "grownup" silvers is a little thicker than my babysoft whispy foof hair that I've been used to for so long now.  I'm healthy, so far as I can rightly prove anyway.  I don't really work out but the exercise I do get is keeping me at the same weight I've been hovering around for about ten years.  My BMI is in the healthy range but I'd like to take it one or two steps down toward REALLY healthy.    I'm happy with my strength, my shape, my ability to see and hear and reach and laugh and largely I am, as most people would probably tell you, a happy person.

So that's great.

You might expect a big fat POOR ME episode around birthday season but the truth is that my absence had nothing to do with that.  I got older, so YAY!  My beloved husband and I went to a super nice Tappas dinner downtown and I wore a dress and everything.

Other stuff happened over the month too.  I got a lot of tidying up done on my next book.  I got a lot of actual work done at a place of employment which is happy to compensate me with actual legal tender for my efforts.

I went places, did things, saw stuff and was generally quite peacefully boring for the entire month.

So you know.... YAY!

I do feel like I'm missing something, however, and I think today is a big part of what's been missing.  The new book, my Giant story, is kindof hanging over my head recently and I'm having a hard time focusing on it.  I'm reading oodles of other books, too, and I'm horrified at the thought that my own writing might be plagiarist-ically  informed by the magnificence of others.  You know?  So I'm trying to really slow myself down and focus - which as we all know is something that my little bowl of noodles does not want to do at all.

And that's when I start thinking about solutions.  I have so many great ideas, you know?  But I never share them.  I can't tell you how many little blog posts I DIDN'T write over the last month because I was either in the midst of something else, about to be in the midst of something else, or in the throes of 'Zero Inertia' to the degree that getting anything actually productive done became Moot.

My point is that I missed writing.  I missed emptying the contents of my head.  My head missed being emptied.  I have happy thoughts, angry thoughts, miserable thoughts and utterly nonsensical thoughts.  And they're all fighting for sunlight and I think that this blog has really become a way for me to sort of beat most of those little voices back into submission.  It helps me be more normal.

Well, normal enough.

So I'm going to try, real hard.  You know.... AGAIN....  to get back in here regularly and tell you more about the cat fur, the bugs, the timelords, the gods, the nail polish and the cherry pits.

I remember posting every day for a month not long ago and HOLY CRAP that took a lot out of me.  Perhaps I'll find a happy medium in here someplace.  Is a few times a week to much to ask of myself?  I don't know.  Let's find out, shall we?

Turtle NOM

Forgive the shaky quality.
This is a badass turtle, the size of a watermelon.  He's chomping away in 90 degree Virginia wetlands heat - which of course includes impossible humidity.

Happy Monday

Should not be a surprise, but there we are

Ah, ladies and gentlemen, I have FINALLY put on my big girl pants and started to re-read my second manuscript.

It is full of holes, lo, big ones at that.

BUT it is also, I'm proud to say, pretty neat!  I'm reading it through here and marking it up and I'm thinking "dang, this ain't half bad!"  The surprise of that thought almost offends me, but I'm too interested in the story I wrote so quickly last winter to pay any attention to that.  A lot of it I don't remember writing, so that helps with the edits.  Here we go then, EDITING FOR REALZ!

So that's fun, right?  Since it's what I'm supposed to be doing anyway.  Anyway, had to share that YES I'm still working on shining up the output from my most recent NaNoWriMo adventure and YES I'm still going to get it published (self published) properly someday.  Best I can say, though, is "soon".

Not like next month... but not ten years from now either.  Somewhere in the middle.

In the mean time, howzabout a teaser?
Hmmm?

Now I give you an excerpt from my new book about Arbux the giant.  

Caveat:  it's REALLY primitive right now and in very raw form.  

so if you must critique, be gentle.  :)

“Initially it was hard enough to sort out just how he got ‘em.  And initially it didn’t really matter.  There he was though, a big ol'd giant real as could be, standing in a lake and makin’ that strange noise and wearing bright red pants.  My poor head couldn’t really think what to make of the situation so I just ended up laughing at the sight before me!

“Oh I laughed.  Hard.  How could I not?  Maybe it was my youth, maybe it was my incorrigible nature, maybe it was all of that and then some.  My world got a lot bigger that day, I can still remember how I felt then, just like it was happening right now, and I think it was just a rare and confused kind of joy that took me over and shook me to my boots with laughter, laughter, laughter.

“Well, he heard me allright.  He heard me laughing and it took him all but two booming stomps to come back to the tower to see what it was that was making all this noise.  Big ol’ ears like that?  You bet he heard me.  Moreover it was clear that he had been laughed at plenty in his day and he wasn’t taking to kindly to bein’ laughed at again.

“And didn’t I just feel like the biggest jerk in the world right then!  He was still pretty mad, see, though he was struggling to remember what it was he was up to feelin’ mad about.  Flickers of what I guessed were memories darted across his face as he stared me down.  All of his previous interactions with people had likely been at ground level, too, as he kept glancing nervously to his feet and the foundations of my little tower.  He was dead set on snuffling around the legs and the base of my tower and slowly worked out that I might possibly be somewhere in the top portion of it. 

“My laughing fits sure had subsided by then, being so close to him and seeing him working out my location as furiously as he was.  I started to feel pretty bad for him.  He was just lost, was all.  Maybe the ol’ Gods sent this big oaf to my doorstep as a last-ditch effort to get him found.  Maybe it was up to me to find a way to get this Giant found.  It was a strange thought to be thinking at that point, I know it.  But you can’t always help what comes into your own head at times like this and I am no exception.

“When it comes to dealing with folks that are bigger than you, you gotta’ be real calm and speak in a loud, deep, even tone.  Real calm.  Like I said, fear burns through these guys like fire in dry grass, so if you betray one blink of fear – well that’s it.  You get your bones scrambled up and he just goes on being big and mean some more.

“So I said ‘HEY’.  Real long and loud just like that.

He tensed up right away and snuffled his big face up to the tower window openings where I was.  Our eyes met and so I said ‘HEY” again, suddenly feeling quite foolish and wondering if Giants had known language ever like we people do.   Like that gorilla with the kitten, you know?  You can talk to ‘em, but it’s rare that you ever get put in a place to talk with ‘em. 

He began to thrum a low, deep growl.  I put my hands up real big and said ‘No! Safe!’.  What else was I going to say?  How do you tell the tiger that you don’t want to be eaten?  How do you convince an earthquake to take it easy?

I was hoping like hell he wasn’t going to smash me to smithereens.

Right then, the most amazing thing happened.  Well, I suppose by now it’s not the most amazing thing, but I didn’t know what I was dealing with back then and, back then, by the Gods, it was a pretty damnedably amazing thing that happened. 

He scratched his ear.  He licked his finger.   He bumped the tower with one of his tremendous knuckles, like this – see?  Like a monkey trying to, I don’t know, see if his sister is awake. 

And then he said his first word to me. 

He said real slow and with breath that could eat through rust, “BEHM”.

Now I don’t have to tell you what a thrill that was! My whole world had, just minutes ago, gotten so much bigger and now it was getting bigger again.  My worldview just kindof snapped into place right then.  He had said ‘behm’. 

Of course that big ol’ brute could talk.  How did I suppose he had got out there to begin with?  By flying?

No, at this close proximity a great many things began to come clear to me.  He had the most beautiful skin, like oiled oak. And he had numerous scars, too, that shone like white birch bark on a moonlit night.  Many of the scars and scuffs were particularly benign looking but he had one helluva thick white ring going around his neck and bunching up around his collarbone.  There were big, even, square scars too.  Like someone had gotten up and took out a big chunk of him for study.  And his knobby ol’ wrists showed me the final clue.  One was marked up just like his neck and collarbone, and one was half scars and half iron shackle…  which appeared to be about eight sizes too small for him but which also appeared to be growing right into him as if he were a wounded tree.  The fibrous, leathery flesh of his wrist was growing right over the shackle. 

This Giant had been held captive.  Likely for study.  Likely by some shady government agency that studies these kinds of things.  And he had either been released, or,  perhaps he was the instrument of his own escape.  And ever since, he had been living by himself in the woods of the north and just trying to survive.  That’s where he learned to speak, I figured.  I bet they got their chains on him and were trying just as hard as they could to figure him out and turn him into something that the Gods had never wanted.  People do that all the time, with plants, with poisons, with stuff from the bottoms of the oceans, why wouldn’t they do it to something so grand and mysterious as this big fellow?  Well they would.  And they did.  And I can guess it didn’t go well for them if he got out and they didn’t catch him.  There likely wasn’t much left of the ‘them’ to come after him, once he got his steam up.  

Probably that’s where he got his trousers too.  Leave it to the military to go and degrade something so pure and majestic as this; and then teach it to wear pants be ashamed of itself. 

Well there we were, just lookin’ at eachother and he had just said his first word to me.  And it was a question.  And I suddenly realized what the question was.  He was talking allright, but he wasn’t that good at it, what with being as big as he was and having what I guessed was a completely different set of muscles to work with.  It was a question in, of all things, Norwegian.  And he was lucky my folks raised me with their language steeped thick into my skull.  I heard the word ‘behm’  and I quickly realized that he had said ‘hvem’, which as you kids know means “who”.

He had asked me who I was.  

Being Healthy

When was the last time you really relished your health?  Let me guess, it was shortly after you lost it when you caught that nasty cold last spring?  Or something similar I bet.

We all have our ways of being mindful of our blessings, and I know I always resent it when people assume I forget to do so myself.  So instead of a message that goes "aren't you glad I reminded you" I'm going to give you a message that says "let me join you".

Let me join you tomorrow in a day of really relishing health.  

Your health.

Relish it.  Not because of what MIGHT happen, or even what WILL happen.  Not from fear.  Relish your health because you have it.  Simply because it's there... in whatever form it's there.

Start when you get out of bed in the morning and you feel your feet beneath you and your legs.  Your strong feet and your sturdy legs, right there where you left them and doing just as you bid them.  Then take a shower and really LOOK at your skin.  Feel your skin and just get all soapy and smooth and really enjoy how strong this envelope is that keeps all of your insides in.  Look at all the bits that maybe you hate, or that maybe are the wrong color or the wrong shape and think of how glad you are that at least all those hateful bits aren't trying to kill you with cancer.  Or heinous bacterial infections.

Dry off after your shower and wallow in the strength of your muscles.  Maybe they're not what they were, but I guarantee they're loads better than they will be.  Feel your pulse in your neck, in your chest, in your thumb, in the soles of your feet.  Flex your shoulders and stretch your back and feel how much it FEELS when you feel it.

Sing to yourself as the coffee/tea/babyformula gets made.  Hear your voice, cracky and cranky though it may be.  Hear the notes that only you can make: in the whole history of the entire universe your voice is yours alone.  What will you say in that moment?  If you're like me, it'll be a swear because you probably just stubbed your toe on something or dropped an egg on the floor.  But regardless of WHAT you say, relish the idea that you CAN say it.  

And you can understand it when you hear it.

Listen to the bus, or the metro, or the car as it trundles along and carries you to work.  Feel your hands grip your smartphone.  Smell the smells of your neighborhood going to work in the morning.  Let your bleary eyes droop closed at your desk as you log in to your workstation tomorrow morning, just for a moment, and savor that satisfying relaxation that your eyelids give you as they say "oh thank GAWD YES!"

Breathe deeply tomorrow.  With your mouth and your nose.  Feel your scalp and your hair and your knees and your fingernails and your moles and freckles and those scabs you can't seem to shake off from that bike accident a month ago.  

Wallow in the you-ness of tomorrow.  Savor your health tomorrow.  Join me.  As I will join you.  And together we'll add a little bit of happy to an otherwise dastardly and boring and frustrating day.  

Let me know how it goes.