Road Trip Food! (And other things. ;)

Road food. Beef Jerky, ingredients for Engine Chili Pie*, Capri Sun^, and bottled water.

Atlas…the bigger the better. The one that shows all the Wal -marts is a fave of mine. Thumb drive with all my music. Tissue paper! A bit of cash and change, in case of credit fail. Duck tape. Cell phone. Laptop. Camera.

*tin foil, disposable aluminum pan, fritos, chili, cheese. Combine, cover with foil, and place on hot engine (with car off) until cheese melts. Yum!

^for the portability, and easily stashed trash…also, not too un-edible if warm.

My awards for awarding the awardable and unawardable alike

How many times have you said “I’ll do it when I get around to it!”  Well, here you are.  Your very own Round Tuit. And the only thing you have to do to claim it is answer a few questions, either here in the comments or somewhere else and link to it.

5 things you said you’d do when you got a roundtuit
5 things from your bucket list
5 true but little known facts about yourself
5 favorites, of your interpretation

Have fun!

And yet another award…this one is for awarding those “special” people.  You know…the ones you want to slap, but you’re above all that.

The Story Of The Hertz Donut

A snotty rich man came to a car dealership, picking and arguing and generally dismissing every car the harried salesman could show him.  Finally, having had enough, the salesman sighed, theatrically, and shook his head.  ”I don’t know…only thing I can think of is the new Hertz Donut…but you wouldn’t be interested in that. Here, let’s go look at this one.”

The rich man was intrigued, and as he walked behind the salesman, he stated “Enough!  I want to see the Hertz Donut!”  The salesman stopped, and looked back with a surprised look.  ”You do?  It’s pretty expensive…”  ”I can afford it…I can afford anything I want!” sniffed the rich man.  ”Now show me, or I’ll buy this miserable place just so I can fire you.”

The salesman turned away so that the man couldn’t see the gleam in his eyes, and nodded.  ”Alright then…I guess I’ll have to show you.  We keep it around back…”  He began walking around the building, the rich man close on his heels.  They approached a small locked shed, which the salesman unlocked and gestured the rich man to come forward, to look.

As he moved forward, the salesman moved back, making sure he was out of sight of the security camera’s…and as the rich man was peering into the dark shed, the salesman reared back and delivered a strong kick right at the rich mans richly trousered rear end.  He tumbled forward, scrambled up with an outraged look on his face.  ”What in the hell was that for?”

The salesman just grinned, standing there, hands in his pocket, as he said… “Hurts, don’t it?”

So, yeah.  To claim this award there are a few questions to answer.  You can either answer them here in the comments or somewhere else and link to it.

5 attitudes you hate/dislike
5 pet peeves
5 annoying quirks
5 people/types of people you’d like to Gibbs-slap*
( *pop on the back of the head with an open hand )

 

Have fun, and happy awarding!

 

KC

Feeling accomplished and frustrated at the same time.

Well, I’ve finally made the first dent in the process of getting “Bones of Ash, Heart of Glass” turned into an e-book…I found quite a few sites that offer free software to make/publish your own e-book.  And since I’ve decided that it should be free, in order to reach more people, and thus do more toward our ultimate goal of  raising awareness of/for abuse victims of all ages and sexes, using a free service to publish it makes sense to me.

I believe I’ll be ready within the week to start collecting submissions by email, after I write up submission guidelines and rules.  I need to make a cover image…unfortunately, I can’t draw, paint or otherwise create visually.  I can describe perfectly what I want it to look like…but that’s not helpful.  ;)

 

Also, I visited/read around 400 posts today, as things had built up from my having to skip several days because of my hands cramping.  Still not sure what that was about, but since it seems to be over for now, not worrying about it.

 

And got another 1,000 words done on Blue and Grey…that makes 4,500 and some, now.  Officially the most I’ve written on any one project, ever.  *laughs* I’m considering, if it looks like I can get it done under 7,000, making it a short story instead.  It all depends on where the story goes from here.

 

The frustration comes from the overly emotional way I’ve been reacting to people’s posts/creations on the subject of abuse.  I suppose it’s mostly due to my not even knowing that this was National Abuse Awareness Month or whatever.  When I started working on “Bones”, it was a singular project, one I could feel good about imagining into life…and now it’s turned into just another attempt to cash in on the month (and bring awareness, as well, mind you) like so many others.  It’s not, really…none of them are…but my frustration at having my personal idea taken away once again…*grumbles*

It’s a perpetual problem for me.  It feels like I must be some sort of unconscious predictor of trends…every time I get a look or style or hobby or music or book series or obscure-but-awesome movie…it suddenly, usually within weeks, bursts into a “phenomenon” and everyone just assumes I’m following the trend.  Meh and Bleah.

A for-instance…my pink-and-black look.  I started it because I wanted something to go with/match my ears, and the colors looked good together, and on me.  A week or so later, when I went to the Mall, it’d become the new “fad” with the younger/teen set.  *sighs*  Oh, well, at least it makes it easy to shop for!  ;)

 

Heh…yay ego.  I’ll get over it.  Just wanted to say, as that’s most likely what’s been causing all the delay on working on the book.

 

Thanks for listening, and if you have any advice or questions, don’t hesitate to comment!

 

KC

Baboons can learn reading skills

Reblogged from Xenophilia (True Strange Stuff):

Dan the baboon sits in front of a computer screen. The letters BRRU pop up. With a quick and almost dismissive tap, the monkey signals it's not a word. Correct. Next comes, ITCS. Again, not a word. Finally KITE comes up.

He pauses and hits a green oval to show it's a word. In the space of just a few seconds, Dan has demonstrated a mastery of what some experts say is a form of pre-reading and walks away rewarded with a treat of dried wheat.

Read more… 424 more words

Neat! I used to follow KoKo, the gorilla who knew sign language...and this is just as neat! I'll have to find the one about the Orangutans at the Smithsonian and their "school"... ;)

Blue and Grey 3

The Mall was bustling, now that noon was almost here…runners tramped back and forth between stores, their overflowing backpacks and hip-nets glinting with hidden possibilities. Sifters perched before their mountains of plunder, quick hands flying as they sorted out the trash from the treasure…handing the trash to the crafters, for a final sorting and possible rebuilding, and the treasure to the sales crew, setting up their spaces down the center court. Smells and sounds drifted like smoke above the tiled floor, and Blue hurried down toward her spot trying not to pay too much attention to either.

Passing banks of collected aroma, she wove her way between them with only a quick glance to scout out possibilities…the Gap crew seemed to’ve picked up some coffee somewhere, or at least something with a passable imitation of its smell…the Hotties had their usual day olds, and what looked like a pile of excrement but was most likely whatever topping they’d concocted today. Blue’s sensitive nose twitched, and caught the scents of cinnamon, brown sugar, and some other spice, as she hurried past.

Hey, Blue…the voice was soft and hoarse at the same time, and the small sifter that stepped out of the shadow of a column and into her path was a study in contradictions as well. His face was slow and expressionless, but his hands and eyes twitched rapidly, almost in unison, enough to make the light of the tiny hand-rolled he sucked on look like a laser-toy. Hey…just wanted t’say…better not let Big Rob catch y’all letting that cat in here, y’know? I mean, far as I’m concerned, cats gotta have shelter just like the rest of us…but you know how he is.

She carefully controlled her voice as she tilted her head at him, a fake confused expression on her face. Cat? Billy-G, what -are- you talking about? We ain’t got no cat. You think Jamie and Spike’d let a dirty ol’animal get inta their precious stuff? I -don’t- think. She chuckled, dismissingly…

Uh-huh. Whatever…just wanted t’say. He turned away, the tiny point of light inscribing whorls and spins of light in the shadowy areas between the columns. Just sayin…geez. His voice trailed off as he slipped back to his pile…and Blue carefully didn’t let the shaking start until she was safely out of his sight and headed down toward her own pile.

Sev looked up with a hassled look on his face as she approached, nodding to the little runner at his side. Ok, ok, I got it…tell Spike we’re gonna be on time, no matter what -some- people think… He bit his lip in a habitual gesture as the kid took off past Blue, and hollered after him. And -grab- something on the way back…you think we live on charity? Then he turned his scowling eyes on Blue, and shook his head. And you…you ready to do some sales this time, or you gonna pass out like last time? I haveta take over for you -one- more time…

Blue shook her head, confidently. I’m on it, Sev…really. What’ve we got today? Anything good? She moved forward toward the right hand pile, going gracefully to her knees to hover her hand over the contents…not -quite- daring to touch until the sifter’d given permission. But even from back here she could see that her group had done their usual good job…the glint of shiny plastics and sturdy metals could be seen through the grime, and even the bundled cloth looked like it held surprises of the positive kind.

Overwhelmed and underworked, part two (the first week)

The week is not quite over, but with payday and dr. appointments looming, the next two days are likely to see me missing, so here’s how it’s gone so far.

I decided to make my morning hours from eight to noon, which is proving…interesting, as it’s been years since I had a schedule at all, let alone such an early one!  But I’m sticking to it, which is making me go to sleep earlier, thus giving me better “sleep hygiene” as my respiratory therapist says.  Stopping strictly at noon is hard, the tendency to check email that one last time, or put out one last post…yeah.   I’m working on it.  So far I haven’t gone more than a half hour over, and I always remind myself that I can get back to it in 5 hours.

My night schedule is five to nine thirty, the half hour being a dinner break.  So far I’m managing to keep away till then, using the hours between to write in my books or do a page or two of the lyrics workbooks.  Yes, it’s still on the computer, but I’m keeping a strict “no email, no way, no how” policy in effect.

That’s basically it for Mon. Wed. and Fri.  Tuesday and Thursday are -supposed- to be no computer at all days.  :(  Not so much so far…Wednesday being the one example.  I tried to contain myself to surfing things connected with my other chores/work…craft sites, learning how to write lyrics sites, etc.  But that kept leading me around to blogs I wanted to follow, and then to how-to-blog sites, then…yeah, you get the picture.  I’m going to try harder next week!  I’d say I’ll go sit in the library and write…but they have free, good wi-fi!  *rolls eyes*

Wish me luck, y’all.  So far, so…mediocre!

Blue and Grey #2

The rest was almost laughable in its anticlimax…at least, someday she’d laugh about it. For now, she simply relished the relative ease of making the careful stretch and scrabble to the next few rungs, then slipping sinously up onto the roof to look down on the milling, furious pack below. Sighing softly, she called down toward the street, couching her voice in as casual and concise a way as she could, considering her condition. Here, boys…it’s over. Just go home now, like nice doggies…and maybe next time we’ll find time to play. This had the expected effect of stirring them to frenzies of scrabbling and leaping after her, and she simply shook her head and turned to head home over the rooftops. The path was clear from here, and with the pack occupied below, as safe as any she’d find on street level.

 

It was a very tired and dirty Blue that slipped in through the gate at the back of The Mall that morning…not that anyone there would’ve recognized her in her current condition.  She padded slowly down the cool floor with its tile pattern of blue and green waves, hearing the soft stirrings of morning in the stores as she passed.  Head hanging low, she slipped under the curtain and into her current home, tossing a soft smile up at the ever-smiling head of the stores mascot/angel, above.  Careful to find her way to the spot that she’d prepped, where she hoped that she wouldn’t be spotted, behind a pile of boxes in the back storeroom, she almost immediately collapsed on the cool cement floor, and fell asleep licking her wounds…

The sound of The Mall opening for business woke her several hours later, and she stretched, wincing as her elbows hit the sharp edges of the boxes, and her knee came unstuck from the floor, reluctantly. Sighing, she reached for the handful of clothes she’d left here before heading out the night before, and slipped them on, taking the time to examine herself from head to toe as she did. Apart from the long scrape on her side, and the cut on her knee, and the usual wicked headache, she seemed to have once more slipped through without taking any serious injury. How long this state of grace would last was unknown and unknowable, but for now she’d settle for being grateful it existed, instead of whining about it.

Tying her hair back in a loose knot, she made her way down the hall and out into the main store, carefully not meeting the accusing eyes of her “boss”, and the resigned pair belonging to her best friend. They curled up with each other in the soft corner, and she felt the eyes follow her out the door. Jamie felt that she was hiding something from her, and when Jamie was upset, Spike felt it as well, even though he had no real clue what. Blue sighed, already seeing the loss of yet another “family” and home in her near future.

 

 

 

Overwhelmed and underworked

“I am a drinker with writing problems.”

-Brendan Behan

 

That made me laugh out loud.  It showed up in the random quotes about writing that WordPress loves to shove at me…but this time, it stuck.  Not so much the drinker part, but the part about writing  being the stronger addiction.  I’ve been “a writer” for about ten years now.  In my own mind writing poems wasn’t true writing…writing is books, and books are stories.  So I’ve got 4(?) books barely written, less than short story length still, and as much as I love them, I’m not sure I’ll finish them.  It’s not that I don’t want to…see the addiction comment above…it’s just that I don’t know -how- to write.  So far I’ve cobbled together scraps and bits of dialogue that slip into my head, chapters of rambling ridiculousness,  and bits and pieces that’d make a better comic than book.  If I could draw at all.  *laughs*

 

And now, putting my poems out there, and receiving the advice and commentary on them, I have a reason to neglect my poor books even more.  I mean, I don’t have -time- to write.  I have all this blogging to do.  Right?

 

Wrong.  I know what I need to do, it’s just pulling together the discipline it takes to do it.  I have 4 areas of “work” right now, and at least 12 hours a day to do them in.  First and foremost is the poems that keep sleeting through my brain, and getting the old ones collected and put out.  Second is learning to write lyrics, a possibly lucrative-ish outlet for my poetic talents.  Third is my writing, and/or learning -how- to write and then applying those lessons.  Fourth is crafting/jewelry making/clay work etc.  For the last few weeks, it’s been nothing but poems and occasionally a bit of prose, and answering, reading, following and liking…which is threatening to become more addictive than anything else I do.  ;)

 

So my goal for this coming week is to sort out 8 hours every other day for writing…poems, blogs, books, whatever…and concentrate on my learning exercises and craft making the other days.  Hardest part for me is remembering to -only- do 8 hours.  I know I can do it, I just have to start.  And now that I’ve put this out here for everyone to see…hopefully it’ll help me keep to it!  ;)

Free write Friday post #3

A short story by aidan and joey gates. ( ages 5 and 6 )

The cow said “Howdy, grandma!” “Oh, my goodness!” said grandma. Grandma called the cowboys. “Why is there a cow in my room?” The cowboys took their cowboy guns, and their hats, and they took the cow home. The cow said “Oh, alright. I just wanted to ask her if she wanted any milk.”

The End

(My two nephews wanted to “help” me tell a cow story, so I decided to encourage this. My version is below.)

“My land, it’s hot today! Don’t you think so, girl?” I looked over at the man walking at my side, and rolled my eyes. “Like you’d care if I did.” “What? Who said that? C’mon, show yerselves, you cowards! You think just because I’m old, you can play tricks on me?”

I blinked, and shook my head. Had he actually heard me? I decided to try an experiment. Keeping my head down, pretending to eat a tasty bit of grass, I said “You -are- old. If I wasn’t here, you’d just sit on the porch all day.”

Well, you should’ve seen it! He jumped so high, I thought he was going to break a leg and I’d have to carry him home, again. But, how had this happened? I glanced at him as he stood, staring at me, then around at the woods, then back at me. “Welp, it finally happened. Must be senile. Hearing things…”

I rolled my eyes again, and shook my head. “You ain’t senile, you old coot. I don’t know how you can hear me now, when you never did before, but face it. I’m talking. To you. And yeah, it’s hot out here…can we please head on home?”

The look on his face was priceless. He stared so hard I truly thought his eyeballs were gonna fall out. He stammered a bit, shook himself all over like a dog, then looked at me again. “Is that…really you, girl? I’m not hearing things?”

“Well, you -are- hearing things…technically, I am a thing…but yeah, it’s me. Can we go home now? I want a drink and a shady patch…” Mostly what I wanted was to be alone to work out this whole talking thing, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

He nodded, almost reflexively, still staring wide-eyed at me. Then a slow grin stole over his face. “A talking cow. Well, I’ll be hornswoggled and horsewhipped. What’ya know…I’m gonna be rich!”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all, but I decided to let it go for now. “And while you can hear me, let me just say that the quality of your hay recently has sunk to new levels. It’s smells musty and damp, and it tastes like sour wood. And you could stand to clean out the trough sometimes, too.”

He just blinked, that silly grin still on his face, dreams in his eyes. He turned, waited till I turned, and we started to head toward home.

“And another thing…”

The End

 

Blue and Grey #1

I think I’m ready to start working on my book again, got my confidence up and my discipline as well..I hope.  ;p

Either way, I’m going to start posting at least page or possible chapter twice a week, and I welcome all comments, positive or negative.  :)

Blue curled her lip as one paw splashed through an unidentified liquid spilling out of a drain, but kept running. The sound of the pack was all too close behind, their mingled yips and yaps echoing off the alleyway bricks, and bouncing around in her already sore head like barbed wire ping-pong balls.

She took the next turn a bit too close, shaving time and a bit of fur off as she did. Almost there, she thought. Just a bit more, and I can put my head down, even if I have to do it on the floor. The thought of the cold concrete floor of the back room was soothing to her cold, wet, cut and scraped up paws, and she managed to pull a burst of energy from somewhere, and double her speed for a few moments.

It wore off quickly though,and she was back to the limping scamper that she’d kept up for blocks now, and the pack…wait…why did they sound like they were coming from in front? She listened carefully, slowing her steps, hoping against all hope that it was only an effect of the echo that made the yipping cries come from -both- directions at once.

The supposition failed, however, when she reached the corner of the main street leading to The Mall…and heard them more clearly. Damn, they must’ve circled around. -Now- what? I can’t get home without getting caught between! Half-panicked, half-exhausted, she looked around frantically, and grinned tiredly as she noticed the ladder half a floor above her head. Yes! Saved!

Her first leap was fruitless, only managing to scrape her fur against the brick, leaving a smear of what she -hoped- was mud, but was more likely blood. Too tired to feel the pain, she positioned herself a bit more carefully, and took another leap…this time, managing to grasp the bottom rung of the ladder with the claws of one sore paw. Scrambling frantically, she pulled herself up onto the rusted metal, and lay there for a moment, prostrate with relief.

Ok, now for the fun part…carefully she stood, stretching her lean body up toward the next rung, ignoring the calls of the pack as they raced closer from both sides. Just a bit…more…there! Got it. She made the pull and rest maneuver one more time, before the first of the packs outrunners, a scruffy little terrier, ran into the alley. Here, here, here!! The cat, it’s here! She sighed, and watched it as it scrabbled frantically at the brick below the ladder, mad little eyes sparkling in its filthy face and spittle spraying everywhere. Dogs…so the dignity