Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Monday, October 24, 2011

Dear Daydream,

Dear Daydream,

They are hiring for a photographer and photo editor at a baby and mom business called Zulily - which I just love, based in Seattle. So, today I quit my job and hopped on a plane and flew to Seattle. Zulily hired me on the spot at twice the salary I was making before. I found a wonderful little apartment facing the bay, just a block from Pikes public market where I can go every day to buy an armload of fresh flowers, Starbucks coffee from the original Starbucks while seeing the street musicians outside and enjoy lunch at that little Irish pub that's tucked in the alley or that cozy seafood restaurant hidden in the market that looks over the water.  I can visit all the fun shops in the area and zip around on the train, go to practice for Wyld Stallyns, play outdoor chess and stand atop the highest needle in the world.
My new coworkers are amazing people who inspire me and are incredible to be around. My photography has never been better and things are simple and good. Having the ocean at my doorstep and the mountains right behind me in my back pocket does wonders for my soul...

....love, the Serendipitous Daydreamer



Thursday, April 22, 2010

Avistrum- Fall from Grace - Bloodthorne's Trial


How the trial ended...

Monday, April 12, 2010

From Hogwarts to America: Welcome To Avistrum

It seems that almost everyone knows this young man and his friends...




The story of Harry Potter enthralled readers around the world. Then, the movies came out and the fascination with his world and story knew no bounds!

What a great escape! Wouldn't it be incredible to go to school HERE:
















Wouldn't it be amazing to be able to step into the story and be able to be part of it?












Unfortunately, we can't all live close enough to Hogwarts Academy to attend.


Fortunately... there were some witches and wizards who created a sister academy to Hogwarts, right here in America.




Avistrum began humbly (as all things do); it started as a fan table at a convention in Denver.


It has since grown to epic proportions.



What Avistrum really is:

Avistrum is a very dedicated non-profit interactive theatre group that has created a way for people of almost every age to use their imagination and step into the world of Harry Potter to play for a bit. It begins with the Avistrum website. This is a forum where the school exists online and where one can create a student and interact with professors and other students within the school, online, and follow various storylines.


...but then the magic happens!


What Avistrum becomes at showtime!:

Twice a year, the school materializes for real and the whole thing comes to life. There are 4 houses; replicated after Hogwarts in the same colors you knew from those stories. Parador (Gryffindor), Enigmus (Ravenclaw), Lobostro (Hufflepuff) and Colubrae (Slytherin). Each of the 4 houses has a House Ghost and a Head of House. There are several Professors, a nurse, a groundskeeper & keeper of keys, a Quidditch Coach for the 4 house Quidditch teams, a librarian, 4 house prefects, 2 Head Boys, there is a Deputy Headmistress, and of course, the Headmaster of Avistrum Academy.

The spring show at Starfest in April, is a small sampling of what is to come in the fall. There are classes to attend, crafts to make, all the staff is on hand, faces can be painted and photo ops are taken on the Quidditch pitch with real Quidditch equipment. This is also where the Tri-Wizard Tournament is held every year for claim to the coveted cup!
It is a glimpse into the real deal that comes 6 months later...

The school semester is held at MileHiCon (lasting one weekend in October) and Opening Ceremony begins on Friday night with a sorting ceremony, and all the new students are sorted. There are always many returning students who flock to the opening ceremonies as there is always a new part of the actively running storyline that happens in real time in real life for the students to be part of... and it unfolds!

All weekend there are classes, some of which have been: Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Charms, Divination, History of Magic, Muggle Studies, Defense Against the Dark Arts and in the last couple of semesters; Dueling (which is enormously popular). During the weekend and during the classes, the students learn valuable lessons - while simultaneously the Villain(s) are skulking around the school causing trouble and making mayhem of all sorts... but the students are wary!

Moments of (scripted) drama that are played out by the faculty and staff, keep the students participating in the ongoing and unknown story - until (after the final Quidditch match on Sunday) the Villain tries to do their dastardly deed and is foiled and defeated by the students! Everything they've learned all weekend is something that enables them to win the battle!

The current storyline has actually been put into video with quiet a bit of excitement coming this weekend at Starfest when some unprecedented secrets will be uncovered and chaos will ensue!
Headmaster Dowling is defending Professor Kraven Bloodthorne in a trial before the Wizengamot (wizard judges) who are charging him with several crimes that he does not remember committing. Students will be able to watch this trial live on the Wizarding News Network (TV) in between classes this weekend. Their classes will focus on proving Professor Bloodthorne innocent.
In this video, we see Professor Kraven Bloodthorne, who has been locked up in Alcatraz Wizards Prison, being interrogated by Wizarding Senator Oswald Kensington; who is no stranger to the halls of Avistrum Academy. Kensington has caused all kinds of trouble at the school. Headmaster Dowling comes to rescue Professor Bloodthorne just in time... the trial this weekend will definitely be something to watch!




It is an incredibly fun way for children (and their adults) to pretend and use their imaginations. It is an opportunity for new friends to be made, for old friends to play together, for some to escape into a world they would rather be in and for others to expand their skills at acting.

In a few days, Viaggiatore and I will give you a photo sampling of the staff, students, classes and some of the exciting drama that has unfolded over the last few years. It's been quite an adventure, and the truly exciting depths of the Tales of Avistrum are yet to unfold!

Monday, January 5, 2009

2008 ~ A Year In Review

This is unforgivably long... I know.

But, it is *HYSTERICALLY FUNNY* and I had no choice but to post it. I cannot withhold laughter like this from others.

Technical Warning!!
Do NOT eat or drink anything while reading this!
FTSOIAR is not responsible for any injury to self, others, or any equipment, which may occur as a result of reading this post!

Enjoy!
Get tissue... you'll be laughing that much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dave Barry Year in Review: Bailing out of 2008
BY DAVE BARRY


How weird a year was it?
Here's how weird:

• O.J. actually got convicted of something.

• Gasoline hit $4 a gallon -- and those were the good times.

• On several occasions, Saturday Night Live was funny.

• There were a few days there in October when you could not completely rule out the possibility that the next Treasury Secretary would be Joe the Plumber.

• Finally, and most weirdly, for the first time in history, the voters elected a president who -- despite the skeptics who said such a thing would never happen in the United States -- was neither a Bush NOR a Clinton.

Of course not all the events of 2008 were weird. Some were depressing. The only U.S. industries that had a good year were campaign consultants and foreclosure lawyers. Everybody else got financially whacked. Millions of people started out the year with enough money in their 401(k)'s to think about retiring on, and ended up with maybe enough for a medium Slurpee.

So we can be grateful that 2008 is almost over. But before we leave it behind, let's take a few minutes to look back and see if we can find some small nuggets of amusement. Why not? We paid for it, starting with . . .

JANUARY

. . . which begins, as it does every four years, with presidential contenders swarming into Iowa and expressing sincerely feigned interest in corn. The Iowa caucuses produce two surprises:

• On the Republican side, the winner is Mike Huckabee, folksy former governor of Arkansas or possibly Oklahoma, who vows to remain in the race until he gets a commentator gig with Fox. His win deals a severe blow to Mitt Romney and his bid to become the first president of the android persuasion. Not competing in Iowa are Rudy Giuliani, whose strategy is to stay out of the race until he is mathematically eliminated, and John McCain, who entered the caucus date incorrectly into his 1996 Palm Pilot.

• On the Democratic side, the surprise winner is Barack Obama, who is running for president on a long and impressive record of running for president. A mesmerizing speaker, Obama electrifies voters with his exciting new ideas for change, although people have trouble remembering exactly what these ideas were because they were so darned mesmerized. Some people become so excited that they actually pass out. These are members of the press corps.

Obama's victory comes at the expense of former front-runner Hillary Clinton, who fails to ignite voter passion despite a rip-snorter of a stump speech in which she recites, without notes, all 17 points of her plan to streamline tuition-loan applications.

The instant the caucuses are over the contenders drop Iowa like a rancid frankfurter and jet to other states to express concern about whatever people there care about.

Meanwhile George W. Bush, who is still technically the president, visits the Middle East and finds things over there just as confusing as ever.

In sports, LSU wins the national college football championship, easily defeating the Miami Dolphins.

Finally, in what some economists see as a troubling sign, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac invest $12.7 billion in Powerball tickets.

The worsening economy takes center stage in . . .

FEBRUARY

. . . when, amid much fanfare, Congress passes, and President Bush signs, an ''economic stimulus package'' under which the federal government will give taxpayers back several hundred dollars apiece of their own money, the idea being that they will use this money to revive the U.S. economy by buying TV sets that were made in China. This will seem much more comical in the fall.

The battle between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton heats up as the two engage in a series of increasingly hostile debates, including one in which Secret Service agents have to tackle a large, angry, red-faced man who bursts from the audience shouting incoherently. This turns out to be Bill Clinton, who is swiftly dispatched by his wife's campaign to work his magic on voters in the crucial Guam caucuses.

On the Republican side, John McCain emerges as the front-runner when Mitt Romney drops out of the race, citing ``motherboard issues.''

Abroad, Fidel Castro steps down after 49 years as president of Cuba, explaining that he wants to spend more time decomposing. In selecting his successor, the Cuban National Assembly, after conducting an exhaustive nationwide search, selects Fidel's brother, Raúl, who narrowly edges out Dennis Kucinich.

In sports, the undefeated New England Patriots lose the Super Bowl to the New York Giants in a stunning upset that confounds the experts, not to mention Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, which had $38 billion on the Pats to win.

Speaking of losers, in . . .

MARCH

. . . New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer becomes embroiled in an embarrassing scandal when a criminal investigation reveals that he looks like a large suit-wearing rodent. Also he has been seeing a high-class prostitute known as ''Kristen'' in a Washington, D.C., hotel. Spitzer resigns in disgrace; ''Kristen,'' hounded by the press and no longer able to pursue her profession, receives a $23 billion bailout from the federal government.

In politics, Barack Obama addresses the issue of why, in his 20 years of membership in Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, he failed to notice that the pastor, Jeremiah Wright, is a racist lunatic. In a major televised address widely hailed for its brilliance, Obama explains that . . . OK, nobody really remembers what the actual explanation was. But everybody agrees it was mesmerizing.

Obama's opponent, Hillary Clinton, gets into a controversy of her own when she claims that, as first lady, she landed in Bosnia ''under sniper fire.'' News outlets quickly locate archive video showing that she was in fact greeted with a welcoming ceremony featuring an 8-year-old girl reading a poem. Clinton's campaign releases a statement pointing out that it was ``a pretty long poem.''

On the Republican side, John McCain wraps up the nomination and embarks on a series of strategic naps.

On Wall Street, J.P. Morgan buys Bear Stearns; nobody really understands what this means, but it is clearly bad. Abroad, the dollar declines to the point where currency traders are using it solely for wiping up spills. Both Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac apply to be contestants on Deal Or No Deal.

In environmental news, Earth Hour is observed on March 29, when cities around the world display their commitment to conserving energy by turning out their lights for one hour. When the lights come back on, Detroit is missing.

In sports, the troubled Olympic torch becomes embroiled in a protest riot in Athens; witnesses claim the torch ''reeked of alcohol.'' In football, beloved Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre retires and embarks on a series of emotional farewell events, several of which are still going on when he signs to play for the Jets.

Speaking of emotional, in . . .

APRIL

. . . tensions run high in the Pennsylvania Democratic primary, which all the experts agree is extremely crucial. Barack Obama gets into trouble with rural voters for saying that rural Americans are ''bitter'' and ''cling to guns or religion.'' Responding to charges that this statement is elitist, Obama responds: ``You are getting sleepy. Very sleepy.''

Seeking to capitalize on Obama's gaffe, Hillary Clinton starts channeling Annie Oakley, tossing down shots of whiskey and talking about her love of guns and hunting. After one particularly long day on the trail, she grabs a Secret Service agent's pistol and attempts to shoot a deer; instead she wounds a reporter, thereby sealing her victory in the Pennsylvania primary, which turns out to not actually be all that crucial because the Democratic race keeps right on going with no sign of ending in the current decade.

On the Republican side, John McCain gets wind of something called the ''Internet'' and orders his staff to give him a summary of it on index cards.

In economic news, the price of gasoline tops $4 a gallon, meaning the cost of filling up an average car is now $50, or, for Hummer owners, $17,500. Congress, responding to the financial pain of the American people, goes into partisan gridlock faster than ever before, with Republicans demanding that the oil companies immediately start drilling everywhere, including cemeteries, and Democrats calling for a massive effort to develop alternative energy sources such as wind, the sun, tides, comets, Al Gore and dragon breath, using technology expected to be perfected sometime this millennium. It soon becomes clear that Congress will not actually do anything, so Americans start buying less gasoline.

The economic news is also gloomy for the U.S. automotive industry, where General Motors, in a legally questionable move aimed at boosting its sagging car sales, comes out with a new model called ``The Chevrolet Toyota.''

In sports, the troubled Olympic torch punches a photographer while entering a San Francisco hotel at 3 a.m. with Lindsay Lohan.

Speaking of trouble, in . . .

MAY

. . . the International Atomic Energy Agency releases a report stating that Iran is actively developing nuclear warheads. In response, Iran issues a statement asserting that (1) it absolutely is not developing nuclear warheads, and (2) these are peaceful warheads. The United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, France, Russia and China convene an emergency meeting, during which they manage, in heated negotiations, to talk France out of surrendering.

Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac invest $17 billion in an Herbalife franchise.

In presidential politics, the increasingly bitter fight for the Democratic nomination intensifies when Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton hold a televised debate, moderated by PBS anchor Jim Lehrer, that consists entirely of spitting.

On the Republican side, John McCain, preparing for the fall campaign, purchases a new necktie.

The big spring Hollywood hit is the film version of Sex and the City, which draws millions of movie-goers, including an estimated three men, two of whom thought they were in the theater for the fourth Indiana Jones movie, Indiana Jones Experiences Frequent Nighttime Urination. The riveting plot of Sex and the City, which runs for nearly two-and-a-half hours, involves the efforts of Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte to plan Carrie's wedding -- Finally! -- to ''Mr. Big,'' only to have things go awry when mutant vampire moles bore up through the church floor and suck the blood out of the wedding party through their feet.

In sports, both the Kentucky Derby and the Indianapolis 500 are won by Usain Bolt.

Speaking of victory, in . . .

JUNE

. . . Barack Obama finally claims the bitterly contested Democratic nomination when Hillary Clinton, behind on delegates and in debt to the tune of $25 million, including $9 million for hairspray alone, suspends her campaign and declares that she has ''no hard feelings'' and will do ''whatever it takes'' to help Obama get elected ''even though he is scum.'' Bill Clinton, at his wife's side, nods vigorously, but is unable to speak because of the restraining device. A gracious John McCain tells the press that he ''looks forward to a spirited debate with Sen. Mondale.'' Before he can take questions he is informed by his aides that he has an important meeting.

In other campaign-related news, Chicago developer Tony Rezko, a former Obama associate and fundraiser, is convicted on corruption charges, but the press realizes that this is not an issue after Obama explains that it is not an issue.

President George W. Bush takes one last official trip to Europe to meet with European leaders. Unfortunately they are not home.

In economic news, Chrysler announces a plan to lay off workers who have not been born yet. The lone economic bright spot is the iPhone, which is selling like crazy thanks to the release of a new model enhanced with the capability of sucking pieces of your brain out through your ear until all you want to do is play with your iPhone.

Speaking of vegetables, the big scare in June comes from the Food and Drug Administration, which announces that tomatoes are killing people. A wave of fear grips the nation as supermarket shoppers stampede from the produce section, causing several fatal shopping-cart mishaps. At the height of the panic, with the tomato industry reeling, the FDA declares that, oops, the killer might NOT be tomatoes, but some other vegetable, possibly jalapeño peppers, but nobody knows for sure. Eventually everyone calms down, but not before a bank in Cleveland is held up by a man wielding only a stalk of asparagus.

The scientific community is elated by NASA's announcement that the Phoenix lander has detected ice on Mars. The elation turns to concern when, several hours later, the lander detects a Zamboni machine.

Tiger Woods, in an epic performance, wins the U.S. Open playing on an injured and very painful knee, thereby proving, beyond all doubt, that golf is not a real sport.

Speaking of epic performances, in . . .

JULY

. . . Barack Obama, having secured North and South America, flies to Germany without using an airplane and gives a major speech -- speaking English and German simultaneously -- to 200,000 mesmerized Germans, who immediately elect him chancellor, prompting France to surrender.

Meanwhile John McCain, at a strategy session at a golf resort, tells his top aides to prepare a list of potential running mates, stressing that he wants somebody ''who is completely, brutally honest.'' Unfortunately, because of noise from a lawn mower, the aides think McCain said he wants somebody ''who has competed in a beauty contest.'' This will lead to trouble down the road.

Speaking of trouble, the economic news continues to worsen with the discovery that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac have sent $87 billion to a Nigerian businessman with a compelling e-mail story.

Also troubling is the news from Iran, which test-fires some long-range missiles, although Iranian President Wackjob Lunatic insists that Iran intends to use these missiles ``for stump removal.''

In sports, the government of China, in an effort to improve air quality for the Beijing Olympics, bans flatulence.

Speaking of Olympian, in . . .

AUGUST

. . . Barack Obama, continuing to shake up the establishment, selects as his running mate Joe Biden, a tireless fighter for change since he was first elected to the U.S. Senate in 1849. The Democratic Party gathers in Denver to formally nominate Obama, who descends from his Fortress of Solitude to mesmerize the adoring crowd with an acceptance speech objectively described by The New York Times as ``comparable to the Gettysburg Address, only way better.''

Meanwhile John McCain, still searching for the perfect running mate, tells his top aides in a conference call that he wants ''someone who is capable of filling my shoes.'' Unfortunately, he is speaking into the wrong end of his cellular phone, and his aides think he said ''someone who is capable of killing a moose.'' Shortly thereafter McCain stuns the world, and possibly himself, by selecting Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, a no-nonsense hockey mom with roughly 114 children named after random nouns such as ``Hamper.''

In yet another troubling economic indicator, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac rob a liquor store.

Internationally, the big story is the Olympic games, which begin under a cloud of controversy when journalists in Beijing, who were promised unfettered Internet access by the Chinese government, discover that no matter what address they enter into their browsers, they wind up on Chairman Mao's Facebook page (he has 1.3 billion friends). But even the critics are blown away by the spectacular opening ceremony, which features the entire population of Asia performing the Electric Slide.

The games themselves are dominated by swimmer Michael Phelps, who wins eight gold medals, thus putting himself on a sounder financial footing than the U.S. Treasury. China wins the gold-medal count, although critics charge that some of China's 11-year-old female gymnasts are under the minimum age of 16. Chinese officials refute this charge by noting, correctly, that they have tanks.

Elsewhere abroad, war breaks out between Russia and Georgia over South Ossetia and Abkhazia, serving as a stark reminder that, in an increasingly uncertain world, we, as Americans, have no idea where these places are.

Speaking of uncertainty, in . . .

SEPTEMBER

. . . the Republican convention gets off to a tentative start in St. Paul when President Bush and Vice President Cheney are unable to attend, partly because of Hurricane Gustav, and partly because the organizers told them that the convention was in Atlanta. The mood improves when Sarah Palin dazzles the delegates with her winning smile, detailed knowledge of what is on the teleprompter, and spot-on imitation of Tina Fey. The next night, John McCain, formally accepting the nomination, pledges to run ''a totally incoherent campaign.'' None of this is reported in the media because the entire press corps is in Wasilla, Alaska, investigating rumors that Palin once dated a yeti.

But the presidential campaign is soon overshadowed by the troubled economy. The federal government is finally forced to take over Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac after they are caught selling crack at a middle school. But that is not enough, as major financial institutions, having lost hundreds of billions of dollars thanks to years of engaging in practices ranging from questionable to moronic, begin failing, which gives the federal government an idea: Why not give these institutions MORE hundreds of billions of dollars, generously provided by taxpayers?

This plan is discussed and debated in urgent meetings in Washington attended by the president, the cabinet, congressional leaders, Sen. Obama, Sen. McCain and all other concerned parties except the actual taxpayers, who are not invited because they are, with all due respect, way too stupid to understand high finance. The taxpayers are repeatedly assured, however, that unless they fork over $700 billion, the economy will go right down the toilet. And so it comes to pass that in . . .

OCTOBER

. . . Congress passes, and Technically Still President Bush signs, the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act of 2008, and everyone heaves a sigh of relief as the economy stabilizes for approximately 2.7 seconds, after which it resumes going down the toilet. As world financial markets collapse like fraternity pledges at a keg party and banks fail around the world, the International Monetary Fund implements an emergency program under which anybody who opens a checking account anywhere on earth gets a free developing nation. But it is not enough; the financial system is in utter chaos. At one point a teenage girl in Worcester, Mass., attempts to withdraw $25 from an ATM and winds up acquiring Wells Fargo.

As the crisis worsens, an angry Congress, determined to get some answers, holds hearings and determines that whoever is responsible for this mess, it is definitely not Congress. Meanwhile all the cable-TV financial experts agree that since they totally failed to predict this disaster, they will stop pretending they have a clue what the markets are going to do and henceforth confine themselves to topics they can discuss knowledgeably, such as what time it is.

Just kidding! They'd get that wrong, too.

The economy dominates the presidential campaign, with the focal point being ''Joe the Plumber,'' an Ohio resident who asks Barack Obama a mildly confrontational question about tax policy and within hours is more famous than the Dalai Lama. He draws intense scrutiny from the news media, which, using investigative reporters borrowed from the Palin-yeti beat, determine that ''Joe the Plumber'' is in fact (1) not named Joe, (2) not a plumber, (3) a citizen of Belgium, and (4) biologically, a woman.

In the presidential debates, John McCain, looking and sounding increasingly like the late Walter Brennan, cites Joe the Plumber a record 847 times while charging that Obama's tax policies amount to socialism. Obama, ahead of McCain by double digits in the polls and several hundred million dollars in money, skips the debates so he can work on his inaugural address. The New York Times declares his performance ``masterful.''

In non-economic news, a Las Vegas jury convicts O.J. Simpson on 12 counts of being an unbelievable idiot. He faces more than 60 years in jail, which could end his relentless quest to find the killer of the people he stabbed to death in 1994.

In sports, the entire nation rejoices as the World Series is won, yet again, by a team other than the New York Yankees.

Speaking of winning, in . . .

NOVEMBER

. . . Barack Obama, in a historic triumph, becomes the nation's first black president since the second season of 24, setting off an ecstatically joyful and boisterous all-night celebration that at times threatens to spill out of The New York Times newsroom. Obama, following through on his promise to bring change to Washington, quickly begins assembling an administration consisting of a diverse group of renegade outsiders, ranging all the way from lawyers who attended Ivy League schools and then worked in the Clinton administration to lawyers who attended entirely different Ivy league schools and then worked in the Clinton administration.

But the hopeful mood is dampened by grim economic news. The stock market plummets farther as investors realize that the only thing that had been keeping the economy afloat was the millions of dollars spent daily on TV commercials for presidential candidates explaining how they would fix the economy. As it becomes increasingly clear that the federal government's plan of giving hundreds of billions of dollars to dysfunctional companies has not fixed the problem, the government comes up with a bold new plan: give more hundreds of billions of dollars to dysfunctional companies. Soon the government is in a bailout frenzy, handing out money left and right, at one point accidentally giving $14 billion to a man delivering a Domino's pizza to the Treasury building.

More and more companies seek federal help, among them the troubled ''big three'' auto makers, whose chief executives fly to Washington in three separate corporate jets to ask Congress for $25 billion, explaining that if they don't get the money, they will be unable to continue making cars that Americans are not buying.

In space, NASA's woes continue when an astronaut attempting to repair the troubled multibillion-dollar international space station accidentally lets go of a special $100,000 space tool bag, which drifts away, taking with it the special $17,000 space washer needed to fix the station's special, but troubled, space toilet. NASA announces that it will now have to send up a special space plumber, who charges $38 million an hour.

In sports, New York Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress shoots himself in the thigh in a New York City nightclub, using a gun he carried to protect himself from bad things that might happen to him, such as getting shot.

Speaking of bad things, in . . .

DECEMBER

. . . the National Bureau of Declaring Things That Make You Go ''Duh'' declares that the nation has been in a recession since December of 2007. The bureau also points out that, according to its statistical analysis, ``for some time now, bears apparently have been going to the bathroom in the woods.''

The CEOs of the Increasingly Small Three auto makers return to Washington to resume pleading for a bailout, this time telling Congress that if they can reach an agreement that day, they will throw in the undercoating, the satellite-radio package AND a set of floor mats. ''We're actually LOSING MONEY on this deal!'' they assure Congress. Finally they reach a $13.4 billion agreement under which the car companies will continue to provide jobs, medical insurance and pension benefits, but will cease producing actual cars. The agreement will be overseen by the federal government, using its legendary ability to keep things on budget.

President-elect Obama, continuing to bring change in the form of fresh-faced Washington outsiders, announces that his secretary of state will be Hillary Clinton. The position of secretary of defense, currently held by Bush appointee Robert Gates, will be filled by Bush appointee Robert Gates. Responding to rumors that he also plans to retain Dick Cheney, Obama insists that he has tried to ask the vice president to leave, ``but nobody knows where he is.''

In other political news, federal authorities arrest Democratic Illinois Gov. Rod ''Rod'' Blagojevich after wiretaps reveal that he was . . . OK, that he was being the governor of Illinois. Everybody is very, very shocked. Meanwhile the recount in the extremely tight Minnesota Senate race between Norm Coleman and Al Franken is thrown into disarray with the discovery that more than 13,000 of the ballots were cast by residents of Palm Beach County, Fla.

But the economy remains the dominant issue, with retailers reporting weak holiday sales as many shoppers pass up pricier gifts such as jewelry and big-screen TVs in favor of toilet paper and jerky. As the year draws to a close, the president's Council of Economic Advisers warns that the current recession ''could spiral downward into a full-blown depression,'' leaving the U.S. with ``no viable economic option but to declare war on Japan.''

In another troubling note, U.S. intelligence sources report that Iran is developing ``a gigantic rocket-powered shoe.''

Adding to the year-end gloom is a congressionally appointed bipartisan commission on terrorism, which releases a troubling report asserting that there is an 80 percent chance that within the next two years, a major U.S. city will be struck, with devastating consequences, by ``an 18,000 mile-per-hour tool bag from space.''

The point is, if you have any money left, you should spend it soon.

And Happy New Year.



Thursday, October 2, 2008

There's An Explanation For Almost Everything

Research has led to the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science. The new element, Governmentium (Gv), has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert; however, it can be detected, because it impedes every action with which it comes into contact.

The last paragraph explains the entire theorem.

A minute amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that would normally take less than a second to occur, to take from four days to four years to complete. Governmentium has a normal half-life of 2-6 years; it does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places.

In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass. When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium, an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.


~Author unknown

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Submarine Races

One of the lesser known but extremely popular sporting events here in Denver are the annual submarine races.
It's a very special time, as the lakes that are big enough for the submarines to race in are only thawed for a few weeks at the end of July, and here we are at that time again!

It's quite a thrill to experience it, and I am so glad that I could share it with you.

I was very lucky to capture this impossible shot, just at the moment that the Nautilus eclipsed the nose of the Seawolf and won the day. Go Captain Nemo!!





....what?
It's a submarine race, what were you expecting to see?

Friday, February 22, 2008

My Love

Mi Amore,

It's been such a long day, it seems like such a long time since I've seen you. Every eternal moment passes almost without moving, with no cadence or rhythm, it just drifts through me, past me... and it feels as though time does not carry me with it, to you. The ache weighs so heavily in my body that it reaches into my soul. How much I miss you.

But somehow I will arrive tonight, when at last I lay my head down and close my eyes. Then the darkness will open up and I'll walk through the door of our home there by the sea, and you will be waiting for me, just as you are every night, with your laughing, dancing eyes and your open arms. When those strong arms close around me, everything else that has worried my mind and heart will slip away into the highland mist that hovers over the green hills and moors beyond the house.

You always have a fire ready in the fireplace for us, and tea to share as we snuggle up together under our quilt in front of the fire. I love to watch its light in your eyes and that dimple in your cheek as you smile while you tell me stories. The softness of your voice fills the air around me like the deep quiet notes of a cello playing a melody that I alone can hear. It ripples through my body and soul and its sound synchronizes everything within me to my core.

The tips of your fingers, gently tracing my cheek and lips are the only tether that keeps me from floating away into the deep sea blues and greens in your eyes. How far do those eyes reach? Eternity? In all the times I've lost and found myself in them, I've only ever seen a beautiful sanctuary where we exist as one, without beginning and without end.

I tangle my fingers in your dark curly hair, and laugh at your endearing ways. I only pout playfully when you tease me a little, but then you pull me so close and kiss it away as though it were a shadow hiding from the sun. There isn't anything in the world that comforts me so much as your strong arms around me, nothing could penetrate that bond. I rest close to your neck and you lean your head on mine. The scents of you; faint sea, wood, wild heather and the highland mist... are intermingled on your skin and breathing it in deeply while I'm in your arms fills me completely with a blend of heady desire and warm serenity.

How the nearness of you takes me away to places I never imagined could exist, and you are in all of them, and I am with you, part of you ~ always. That look of hunger and need that haunts your face when you see me coming to our bed always undoes me; it's as though you are caged in desperation until the touch of your fingers on my skin releases you in that instant, and you are suddenly able to breath again. It mirrors my own desire for you.

Strong and gentle, your touch, your lips and arms, every part of our bodies, your need and mine, until we are one; shivering in the power of passion and ensconced in the fullness of love. Blanketed in the stillness of the night, wrapped so closely around each other, we sleep until the soft light of dawn touches the edge of the tall windows.

I rise to your beautiful smile as you hand me steaming coffee and kiss my face as delicately as a feather touch, my cheeks, my forehead, and at last my lips. We tease and laugh and play as we ready for the day and you walk me to the door. I know what's waiting beyond it and I want nothing more than to bury my face in your chest and stay, but we know I must go.

"We'll go to Paris tonight when you come home, and stay for the weekend, alright my love?" you tell me in the soft quiet voice that is meant only for me. I nod my head. Your finger reaches under my chin, and tenderly lifts my face to meet yours and I look into your serious eyes. "The time will fly, and I'll be with you, in your heart, every moment..." you tell me in a whisper.

And I slowly pull myself, unwillingly, from your arms while you stand as still as a statue and watch me so intensely, your face solemn, making yourself let me go. It is only our hands that touch now, and as I step through the door, our intertwined fingers slide slowly apart.

The door closes and I force myself back here, to my own bed where I am laying alone without you. I only open my eyes when I know I must, and I stare silently out the window at the day that has begun. The long day that I will find my way through, somehow, until the night brings me to you again. It is a half life, my half without you, and it is something, but it will never be everything until you are with me, once again.

You are the breath of my soul, my love, a timeless constant... the other part of me that I only barely exist without, and I will find you again. Somehow, somewhere along this journey that I wander through, I will find you again, and when at last your arms are around me, we will never let go.

Until then, I will wait to see you in my dreams, wait until my head is deep in my pillow and I close my eyes and the darkness opens up and I see the door of our home, where you wait for me.

I love you.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Phoctober 9th.... Pheet and Phunny Phaces

Moon Topples photo game "Phoctober" has turned up some wonderful pictures all around, it's been very entertaining! Thanks for coming up with this, MT.

The life of the party! Custard filled cupcakes...

Self watering mushroom... verrrry fun...


And a poem about feet, inspired by a particular pair of feet that were dressed nicely in sparkly sandals and caught my attention the other day; I think we take our feet for granted too often.

Feet~

To walk upon

and carry me

where my will

and way may take me

from the rise

to the fall

for each beat

of the heart which keeps

me alive

I step yet again

towards the moment

that I'll die

and I slip

them into cool water

and run

across hot sand

and revel in the cool blades

of the grass that cuts

the heat

that burns my feet

the toes

which balance

and point

and spread

and the heel

that steadies

and rocks

and holds

the body it carries

the heart and soul

thankless work

for foundation

for base

no gratitude found

in time or place

but on we go

with carefree thought

and shorn of woe

we trudge

and dance

and skip

and trip along

until the music ends

and so

the song slows

to a single note

then silenced

and resting there

in statuesque repose

are weary worn

the heels

and toes

that a lifetime

of miles have known

and finally have found

a stillness

when the body has

flown.

Monday, October 1, 2007

By the Book

Absolute Vanilla tagged me with another meme. I almost got away, but she's a quick one!

1. Total number of books owned - Several in every room of my home, and it's never going to end... kind of like my Christmas decorations... hee hee...

2. Last book bought - HAH! A few hundred dollars worth of textbooks that I've yet to crack. Still getting A's though. Luckily they can be sold back, pity though at only a fraction of the price I paid, but I always buy used books when I can. God bless http://www.half.com/

3. Last book read - Well, I multi-task/read; usually reading 3 or 4 at once. I've just finished all the HP books while reading 1000 days in Tuscany (I'm savoring this one, enjoying a bit of it at a time), and 'What a Girl Wants' (my sisters recommendation).

4. Five books which mean a lot to you -
~Do I get to use the Bible on this one? Yes, yes I do. It always stays on my nightstand along with...
~A treasury of Kahlil Gibran's works which was gifted to me by my Shannstress; these two are fundamental.

Also on the list are:

~To Kill a Mockingbird
~Rudyard Kiplings 'Just So Stories'
~Anne of Green Gables.

I think it's interesting that the lists of 'books which mean a lot' to some of the bloggers who've done this meme are oftentimes books from childhood. Books that helped shape our minds and hearts. Isn't that something? We hold fast to our cores.

I highly recommend Gibran for perspective, if you haven't had the pleasure already, and Just So Stories for smiles and wonder.


Ok then, to the tagging. Barbara @ Barbara's Bleeuugh, Roberta @ Turn the Page, Christina @ Single City Chick, Pearl @ Humanyms, and Jeni @ The Passionate Palate.
Have fun ladies!

Saturday, September 29, 2007

A Shameless Lions Story

Have you heard about the exciting writing project happening over at The Shameless Lions Writing Circle?

A ring of words... Shameless Words began a story with this photo and then passed it on to Kay at As It Happens who gifted me with it. Each of the members of The Shameless Lions Writing Circle will take a turn writing part of the story, and after each piece is written, that member will choose the next writer. When it is complete, we will decide on a name for it. How many twists and turns will this lady named Grace take as she makes her way through the lions circle? Let's find out... I'll post the new chapters as they become available.

See here for the basic rules.

And... the story so far:

_______________________________________
The new watch that Grace's husband had given her the week before slipped inside the sleeve of her coat as her arm went up in the air. She felt she had no control over the movement, as though it were completely natural for her to be hailing a cab in the middle of New York. She felt as if she were being directed by remote control. 4:42pm, October 7. She made a mental note of the time, thinking it might be something she'd always want to remember.

"I just want you to drive," she said as she got in, avoiding the driver's eyes.

"Drive? Drive where, sweetheart?" He sounded like he might be Middle Eastern, although the writing on photos and cards above his head looked like it could be Greek. She also noticed African music coming from the radio.

"I'll let you know. For now just drive anywhere. Wherever your instinct takes you."

"That is strange."

"Yes, it's strange. Please just drive. Anywhere."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." During the few minutes it took for the cab to rejoin the flow of angry traffic, she stared at the entrance to the subway that she'd been using to get home every night for the past 12 years. Ample time to change her mind. She turned off her mobile as the cab swung into Third Avenue. Happy trumpets played as a grainy picture of Sebastian and the two little ones faded into black. (1)

Grace sat back and tried to relax. All her muscles were tense. She moved her head a little from side to side to try and release some of the tension in her neck. She made an effort to relax her face muscles that she was sure were drawn up into a tight mask. As the cab swooped along with the stream of homeward-bound traffic, a sudden gust of wind swirled fallen orange and red leaves into a mad dance. She found their dance mesmerising. It reflected her mood of being drawn into a wild dance, almost out of control. Where the dance would lead, she had no idea.

Ok sweetheart?” the cab driver sounded uncomfortable with his role of just driving anywhere.

She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. She wished he would stop calling her sweetheart. She didn’t feel like anybody’s sweetheart. She looked down at her tan boots and noticed one of the toes was scuffed. She fingered the money purse inside the large red shoulder-bag sitting beside her like an obedient pet. She would have to watch the fare. After all, she only had so much money to go on. She made herself stop biting her fingernails as she tried to figure out just where she wanted the taxi cab to drop her. (2)

------------------------------------------------

Grace closed her eyes and thought of the gaping entrance to the subway that she'd just abandoned. It was a turning point; she'd finally turned away from him, but to what? Never back to the barren arctic mausoleum; that prison home that the train had returned her to for so many nights, so many years, devoid of warmth, of love, of anything she really needed. She refused to lose another precious moment of her life to it, she knew if she went back again, there would be no more life.

Her thoughts were a blizzard through which she could only take a step at a time; slowly, carefully, blinded by the unknown... but feeling for it desperately, going anywhere as long as it was away. She had to escape. The storm of his loathing and anger raged around her in her mind and her heart began to pound, her pulse started to race and she knew this was it.

Reality seemed to fade into a dream and she fled the monster at her heels in uncertainty... could she make it? Could she really leave and be free? At last? The thought of it beckoned to her like a distant star in her dark night and the shadow of an image began to take form and make it's way to the forefront of her mind. Jack. It was her only chance.

The possibility of it was slim... but, perhaps. She had to try. Leaning forward, she instructed the cab driver with urgent directions and he was relieved that she'd finally determined a destination.

For the first time in ages, she stood at the base of the stairs that led up to his door and willed herself to move. How many years had it been... a hundred at least? What if he wasn't home? What if he didn't care about their friendship anymore? She'd let the winds of time carry it away in small fragments... like the leaves swirling about her feet, that skittered on the air and vanished. Grace carried the weight of the world and the bulk of the past with her up the steps and hesitated before pressing the button by the large door of the brownstone.

Time never passed so slowly. Her heart pounded in her chest and blood rushed in her ears. She drew a shaky breath. He might be gone. Maybe he had company. He probably wouldn't even want to speak to her. What if he didn't recognize her? How could she even come here at all? What was she thinking? Certainly he must be angry that she'd let their friendship go. All those years... best friends since they were children, and she'd let it go. How could she have done that for the monster she'd married? She began to breath shallow and quick. He had seemed so hurt the last time they'd talked.

She gasped and jerked her head up.
He'd opened the door, shock and disbelief registering on his face.
She froze.

"Grace?" he whispered her name like a prayer from the heart. There was more emotion in that one word than she'd felt from her husband in a year.

"Jack... I..." she stammered, unsure that she should have come at all.

In a single movement he came through the doorway and pulled her into his arms tightly. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he only let her go long enough to cup her face in his hands and peer into it closely, searching for any sign of pain, as a parent might do to his long lost child. He saw it there and pulled her back into his whole embrace. Anxiety and hope filled her clenched lungs as she allowed herself to breathe deeply.

"Come. Come in and we'll take care of it." he said quietly, as he brought her into his home.

He sat with her on the couch and watched her, listening intently as she spoke.

"I'm so sorry to just show up like this... I..." she clasped her hands tightly in her lap and stared straight through them.

"Grace, please don't apologize, there's no need at all. We're best friends, and you know time can't touch that. It doesn't matter what brought you here, you are welcome to stay as long as you need to and you know that you are safe. No one can touch you here. I'll make sure of that."

She stared at his unwavering countenance. Into his bottomless, dark eyes. Time ceased to exist then, time that had passed and time that would have come after this moment. It was as if they'd never been apart even a day. She launched herself into his arms again.

"I've missed you so much, thank you."

"You are one of the strongest women I've ever met. You are unstoppable, vibrant and passionate, and you are so full of secrets right now! This is not the Grace that I know," he said skeptically as he raised one eyebrow and with his hand on her chin, turned her face from side to side, "where's that wonder woman that could take on the world? Why have you hidden yourself away behind this mask?" He paused and whispered, "What happened to you mon ami?"

Grace looked around for an answer to his question, as though the welcoming walls in the room might offer her the words that she could not find. She opened her mouth to tell him, but somehow the brave front that she had shielded herself with crumbled in this sanctuary where she knew she could finally fall on her knees and find solace. Tears carried the pain away as they streamed down her pale cheeks like a long overdue rain on parched land. Saying nothing, Jack drew her to his chest, held her close and stroked her hair until she cried herself to sleep. He laid her head on a deep pillow and covered her with a thick quilt. Grace drifted off into a deeper slumber than she'd had in months, and Jack watched her for a long time.

It was late when he reached for his phone and dialed the number. He spoke softly, his eyes never leaving her as she slept. "Sebastian, you won't believe this. Grace is here... she finally came; she left him. Now she can begin." (3)



That was so much fun. Thanks Seamus, Kay and Viaggiatore!
I shall pass this along to Minx now, and she'll open the next page for Grace.

1) Seamus @ Shameless Words
2) Kay @ As it happens
3) Scarlett @ From the shores of introspect and retrospect

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

III. Viaggiatore ~ Sahara sand and the Mediterranean Sea

"It's so hot today." I whispered with a quiet sigh.

Viaggiatore turned and looked at me with those bottomless eyes. "It is warm, but it's not hot."

"You're in a fur coat and you don't think this is hot?" I gave him the 'single-raised eyebrow' of doubt.

"When I escaped from the evil chief of the Kilmuseri tribe at Mt. Elgon on the Kenyan and Ugandan borders, I headed north into the Sahara desert. It was 125 degrees. That was hot."

Both eyebrows shot up that time. "Wow... that is hot. How long were you in the desert?"




He swung his tail and shook his mane out and the scent of it's blossoms filled the air around us. "It took several weeks getting through that desert. It's about three thousand miles from Lake Victoria to Tunis, Tunisia. I ran as much as I could at night, I stopped at each little oasis that I could find. I met some friends along the way that were good to me, but it was a difficult journey. The good thoughts and deeds that followed in my wake were like rain in the desert to the people that I touched; it strengthens me when the idea of helping others is manifested in the lives of those that I meet."

I watched him quietly. I didn't want him to stop speaking.

"By the time I got to the Mediterranean Sea, I was feeling much better. I rested for a few days in Tunis, and then swam to Marseille, France. I stopped at a few random islands on the way but swimming in the sea was easier and faster than getting through the Sahara."



"You swam across the Mediterranean?" I was surprised to hear this latest twist in his tale.

"I am not a typical lion." he winked at me and smiled.

Viaggiatore stretched his legs out a little and wiggled his toes. "When I got to Marseille it was only a short distance to Lyon, France. I wanted to get to Shameless' place so that I could get into the writing circle. I have had such an incredible life, and it's only getting more interesting; the writing circle is just the place for me to share that, and it's good to have writing partners."

"You are definitely one of a kind, and I am so glad that you are with me now. Adopting you was one of the best things I've ever done." I said as I reached over and scratched his chin.

"We are a great team, you and I, and we are lucky to be in The Shameless Lions Writing Circle with so many other talented and wonderful writers. This part of our journey will be something wonderful."


Scarlett & Viaggiatore

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Walk Not This Way, Wanderer

"Walk not this way, wanderer."

"But this is the way I want to wander!"

"This way is a long and difficult journey. Once begun, there is no other way to go, no turning back. You could go back now and save yourself the effort."

I peered into the distance, to try to determine the length and nature of the journey.
"I cannot see the way very clearly, it is shrouded!"

"It is shrouded. It is enveloped in possibility and opportunity, but do not let that fool you, for the road is long, difficult and unpredictable."

"I can deal with difficulty and the unpredictable. I want to go. What will it be like?"

"There will be pain and tears intertwined with laughter and joy, and all of it will be bound with love. There will be hate and anger, sadness, desperation, hope, exhiliration, passion and fear, and that also will be rooted by love."

"What else will there be?"

"You will be uncertain, but you must make your own path. You can make it any way that you choose, when you are faced with a decision, you will be able to choose the roads that take you from it, but remember, while it is important to know from whence you came, it is also important to have a destination in mind, although the likelihood of you reaching your desired destination is improbable, you may get close to it. Every single step of your journey will be one of choice, and your final destination will be the result of all the paths you chose to take."

"What if I choose poorly?"

"You will choose poorly sometimes. You will make good choices as well when you learn how to do that."

"Will I be able to make it to the end?"

"You will have no choice, once you begin, you must go until you reach the end.

"Will I have to travel this road alone?"

"No, you will have the company of others along the way, but they will each come to you and each will leave, none will be with you from the beginning of the journey to the end, save me."

"You will be there?"

"I am everywhere, always."

"Will you help me?"

"I always help any who ask."

I looked as far into the mist as I could. The path disappeared into it.
"What is the name of this journey?" I asked quietly.

"It is called life."

"I want to go, this is the way I want to wander."

"Wanderer, will you not walk this way...?"

...and I took the first step of the journey of life.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Baby, Bye Bye

Minx is having a little writing contest for three Jack Vettriano paintings. My image on blogger is one of his works titled, "In thoughts of you". Minx called it my avatar... and it is, really, an incarnation of some of the inside of me. Some of his work truly stirs my soul and I connect with it on a deep level. That being said, I could not pass up the opportunity to write a poem about one of the paintings and enter the contest. Read through this, but then do pop over to The Inner Minx and see the other paintings and entries. Very good reading for wonderful art. This is my entry. The poem is titled after the painting. Thanx Minx!!



Baby, Bye Bye
Jack Vettriano



Baby, Bye Bye

As I find ways out of the night
Darkness fades into dim light
And so do you, my lover gone
Distance takes you far and long

Did you come and reach for me
In secret and in dire need
Urgent fire burned in haste
Blinded passion here misplaced

I held you close to make you feel
Like you were young and it was real
To taste hot lust and satisfy hunger
Prove prowess as when you were younger

Heated desire within your touch
Fast it pales and cools so much
Washed away your selfish torment
Passing with each empty moment

A tempest night you won’t regret
And miles that you’ll soon forget
You’ll justify the wrong to right
Black sin washed in dawn’s new light

In thoughts of her as you disappear
Of all the love and all the years
And all your life and promises,
For her, cold hands and lying kisses

And slowly though I turn at day
A trace of you will always stay
And I’ll go on, a new life found
And chance for me may still abound

Memories linger and shadows drift
But over time the ache will lift
And I will wonder if it was real
If we only touched or did we feel

Nothing really stays or lasts
So I’ll be strong and time will pass
Our roads will reach so far away
And never will there come a day

When your hand reaches out to mine
And suddenly we wake to find
That this was not a reverie;
Heart for her, and hands for me

One long last look, then turn and try
To let you go my Baby, Bye Bye

~ Wanderlust Scarlett

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Viaggiatore ~ Lion hide and jungle flight

Viaggiatore and I were sitting on the beach today, watching the tides roll in and listening to the sounds of the crashing surf. I was rubbing his ears and running my fingernails over his back... he loves that, it makes him purr very loudly. I have been aching to ask him to reveal his story to me, and this was the ideal time to open that door.

"Tell me how you came to be in Lyon, France." I said.

His gaze drifted from the glint of sunlight on the waves to meet my quiet countenance.
Looking into his eyes is like staring into the deepest blue part of the sky, and trying to see the place where the light fades into dark space... knowing that beyond what you can see lies a vast place, boundless and completely incomprehensible... filled with beauty and wonder.

His voice was soft and solemn. "I was in Nyeri, Kenya. I was visiting the children at Tumaini, most of them are orphans whose families have perished from AIDS. Some of the most beautiful blossoms in my mane are from these children. One night, after we had run and laughed and played all day, rest had finally overtaken us... tired and happy. As the stars passed over head, sparkling in silence, something else passed. The shadow of an elusive hunter caught only by the moonlight. I don't know how he captured me, I only know that when I awoke I was laying in a small cage in the dark and enclosed back of a truck... headed west... away from the horizon of Nyeri.

I tried to move, to stand in the cage, but it was so small that I could not get up; there was only enough room for me to lay on my side. I assume this was so I could not crouch to pounce, it put me at quite a disadvantage. I could see the sky out of the back of the truck, but that was all. I watched that patch of sky for what seemed like hours, trying to determine my direction and probable distance. Africa can be a dangerous place, knowing where I was would help me in escaping.

As it turned out, when the truck stopped, I knew immediately where I was by the smell of the air. A tarp was thrown over the cage to block light and view, but the scent of the air by Victoria Lake is unmistakable. I was about 160 miles west of Nyeri. I heard voices speaking in hushed tones... there was an exchange of some valuable item, and the hunter gave me over to the chief of the Kilmuseri tribe. As soon as the cage was opened, both my left front and left rear legs were clapped in irons and I was chained to a huge tree. The members of the tribe would not come near me... they stared with wide eyes from behind surrounding trees.

I asked for water... my thirst was terrible, but my voice and speaking ability terrified the tribal members and they ran. The saying goes, 'ask and ye shall receive'... and this time was no exception. The end of the rainy season there closed with a thunderous downpour of torrential rain for three days straight. I had no shelter, save the tree that I was chained to, but it's canopy gave some relief. On the third day, late in the afternoon, the chief of the tribe came to see me.

"Why am I here?" I asked. He sneered at me. "You are here because you have something I want." I watched him carefully, his cold greedy eyes moved over my body. "What do you want?" I wasn't sure I really wanted to know. He leaned in almost close enough for me to reach... and said in a low voice, "I want your skin... as a robe, and your head as my headdress."
Fury ran through me like a bolt of lightening, "You will never have it!" I roared with such force that he careened to the ground, landing on his back. Trapped though I was, I went for him with all that was in me.



I was filled with such rage when I ran for the chief that the powerful force of my leap snapped the chains that bound me. As I was about to reach him, the tribal warriors surrounded me, yelling and shoving spears into my face and lancing my body with the biting steel tips of their weapons. The chief jumped to his feet and ordered them to stop... and they pulled back only enough for me to circle and growl fiercely at them. "I will kill him tonight when the moon rises!" he called out to all of them. I knew I had to leave at that moment, before they locked my chains again. I looked for the smallest warrior and leaped straight for his head. He panicked and ducked, but as I arced over his body, the man next to him drove his spear into my left front leg."


Viaggiatore looked down at the wound on his leg. I've dressed it and wrapped it since he's been here, and my cousin, Dr. T. Lyon in Pittsburgh, gave us some helpful tips in making it heal quickly. I continued scratching his back, and he continued his story.


"The pain was excruciating, but I kept running until I could not hear them very well. I was able to pull the spear head out with my teeth, but my leg was bleeding and I knew I wouldn't be able to travel very far without resting. I decided to head to Mt. Elgon, just north of Victoria Lake. I thought I could hide in Budadiri forest, at the base of the Ugandan side of the mountain, and rest for the night. I had just reached the edge of the trees there, when I heard a noise and saw the tribal chief only 30 meters behind me. I ran into the forest and he chased... I knew he'd have a hard time hunting me there.
I made it to Sipi Falls, and thought he couldn't have followed me that far, and if he had, he wouldn't be able to hear me because the crash of the falls is so loud. He didn't see me, but I saw him and thought I'd be better off leaving than hiding. My leg was swollen by this time, and my fur was caked with blood. The pain had reached my shoulder, and I knew I couldn't go far, so I went a short way up the mountain to Kitum cave and finally found my saving grace there, under the most unusual circumstance.

It is the habit of the elephants and other animals that live on and around Mt. Elgon, to go into the caves there at night to lick the salt from the walls. As a matter of consequence, they have literally dug their way into the mountain some 200 meters with their tongues. On that night, a large herd of elephants had gathered and when I came into the cave, they welcomed me and offered a restful quiet place in the back of the cave, and safety in their midst. I was so exhausted that sleep found me immediately. The chief also found me, I learned, when a bird came to report that he was making his way through the lush vegetation toward us. The herd of elephants grew furious and what started as a blockade at the mouth of the cave turned into a full blown stampede down the side of the mountain... right on the heels of the chief... all the way to Budadiri forest.


I slept soundly through the dark hours and in the morning a small rabbit asked if she could take me to the top of the mountain, which is actually a dead volcano. In the crater at the top are hot springs which she said would help heal my wound. We were able to go slowly and I spent a day in the healing waters of those hot springs. When the afternoon sun started sinking into the wavering heat of the African landscape, I made my way down the Kenyan side of Mt. Elgon, and when I reached the bottom I ran north, wounded and slow, into the night."
That is as far as we got, because some friends came to visit. We've had many visitors over the last few days, and it's been nice to see them. Viaggiatore has had the opportunity to see some of his brothers, and he enjoyed it very much. I will ask him about the rest of the story in the next day or two, when he looks as if he's feeling up to talking about it.
Thank you for visiting, we look forward to seeing you again.
Scarlett & Viaggiatore

Monday, June 11, 2007

Viaggiatore ~ The Lion of Lyon Tail

I've adopted a Shameless Lion from Lyon, France. Everyone, please meet Viaggiatore. His name means 'traveler' in Italian. He comes from a rather large pride (he has 44 brothers and 3 sisters), all of which have been adopted into the excellent homes of the members of The Shameless Lions Writing Circle... of which I am also a member, and hence had the opportunity to bring Viaggiatore home. Here's his picture as it was on the morning I brought him here:

He wasn't here even a moment before he left his little pedestal in the photo and began to wander about the page. When last I saw him, he said he wanted to go watch the sun set on the ocean (we have a lovely view of the beach just outside the front window there....) and that is just where he headed off. I'm not surprised, really... after all, he is a traveler, and quite an interesting lion.

I will invite you to visit with us a bit, and find out more about him, as he has had quite an amazing journey getting here; the peace of this place is exactly what he needed.

Viaggiatore was once a single thought... just one idea. Long ago, a good Samaritan selflessly saved the life of another human, with no thought for his own safety. The Lord was so pleased at this act of love, that he offered the Samaritan a wish... anything he wanted. The Samaritan said he wished only to continue to do good, everywhere he went, without ever knowing it. The Lord granted this wish, and then decided that it was such a good idea, it ought to be everywhere, for everyone.

He created Viaggiatore as a thought... it is him, in those moments of kindness when we do not know the good we do for others, he is a passing idea... a traveling thought that steps gently within us, and then moves on. As Viaggiatore passed throughout the world touching others, he walked away with remnants of each step touching him, and these remnants created a tangible body for him. The beauty of a world in unity incarnate in the skin of a lion. If you click on his picture (the original) you can see an enlarged version of him.

His feet are covered with the flowers of fields and meadows that he has traversed, his legs and body are colored with the tides of every sea. On close inspection, you will discover images of shipwrecks and sea creatures emblazoned on his sides. The words of the world have covered his legs, and the likeness of continents he has passed through are evident on his hide. Viaggiatore's tail is adorned with miniature works of art that he loves, the most famous being Leonardo Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa"... and just a little way further down his tail, he keeps a watch (so that we do not run on Scarlett time... he says to me with a sly smile). On his back, he proudly wears a small rug, gifted to him by the Maharishi in honor of the goodness and peace that Viaggiatore spreads. His mane is a wild abundance of flowers and blossoms, given to him by all the children of the world, in every country, it is fragrant and light, and when the wind dances in it, the scent fills the air with the sweetest fragrance ever known.

He wears two earrings in his left ear, one for unity, the other for peace. On his left rear paw, he wears a chain... put there by the evil chief of a jungle tribe (more on that later). When I offered to take if off, he declined... "oh no," he told me... "I am made of the places that I have passed through, like any of us, it is the good and the bad that make me who I am and I cannot discard those things in my life that weren't good, any more than you can. It gives me character anyway, don't you think?" So it remains. At his feet rests a book that he is never without. "Knowledge gives us the capacity to understand our world, and better it." he said. I haven't had a chance to look at the book yet, perhaps someday he will let me. The scarf he wears was a gift from me, I picked it up in Paris last April, and he liked it immediately, so I gave it to him.

His front left leg was injured in his escape from the evil chief of the jungle tribe, and I have bandaged it and called my cousin in Pittsburgh, Dr. T. Lyon, to ask her to mend it up for him. He will spend some time here, healing, and we will divulge the tail (excuse me... tale) of his great escape to you as the days pass. When he is quite himself again, Viaggiatore and I will be off to explore the world and go on many great adventures together. Each will be chronicled here, to share with you. Postcards home to our friends and family.

Thank you for being here, we look forward to visiting with you again soon.

Scarlett & Viaggiatore

Saturday, June 9, 2007

Killing me ever so softly

I am an old soul, and a wanderer. In my mind, in reality, in my heart, in my soul... in every fiber of my being that trembles with anticipation... curiosity... and yearning to move with the winds and touch every place I can find. It is the quintessence of my existence.
I sometimes wander to wondrous places, and sometimes, I miss the scent that somehow should have warned me away from others. Recently I found myself in a place, by chance, that is not a bad place for me to be, on the surface.
But my 'satiable curtiosity' (reference Rudyard Kipling's Elephants Child on this term and spelling), got the better of me, and I waded in deep. As deep as one can go.
There was a curtain shrouding the depths. As I inched in, the breeze of invitation and familiarity danced in the curtains, and I was slowly seduced into going further and further. With every step, it seemed that I was walking in a dream... some place I'd been before but had forgotten, and only vaguely recognized. So I continued, until I came upon a shock, quite unexpectedly. It took my breath away... but I stayed... and then there were more... here and there, around every bend. The shroud would move, gently, and each time I'd find myself looking into a mirror, but the face looking back at me was not mine. The strange face in the mirror would vanish and hide again for brief moments, and then reappear again, suddenly, clearly, and much closer than I could bear. Truth staring back at me with no grace.
I would close my eyes, and step away... no, this cannot be. This person, in this mirror, this stranger cannot know me so intimately, so deeply. I have walls up, I have a fortress around my heart and soul that no one can penetrate. The unfamiliar face, in the familiar place, could not possibly exist. I dreamed this person up... a figment of my fancies. A mirage. But there those eyes were... staring back into mine. Mocking me... "I know you... know you of old... you can hide nothing from me." There were words... so many words put together so carefully... crafted to shatter my walls with their quiet force, albeit unknowingly.
The words, the meanings, the truths hidden within were so clear to me, with a light as bright as the sun shining relentlessly on all the secret rooms and caverns of my heart... exposing everything I have so carefully tucked away... buried. I fell to my knees and begged, with tears streaming... anguished in such deep and terrible pain... no, please, no... say no more. Hide these truths from me that I have ignored into oblivion.
But they seared their way into my mind... and would not be forgotten.
In a feeble attempt to recover, I smiled through the tears and ache... I am fine, I lied. It's all a coincidence. These mirrored truths that flash mercilessly at me from a strangers eyes... they are all just mere irony... nothing real. Nothing...
But I could not turn away.
I have wandered too far... and when I realized the distance I'd gone, I knew I could not go back. I have neither the strength nor the willpower to move.
I can only lay in this bed of thorns until time eases the wounds and I am able to escape. Like a wounded dove, I will fly away... so far away, as soon as the possibility becomes reality.
In the meantime, I shall learn to dance on hot coals, and the bittersweet familiarity will not overcome me.
It may be killing me... ever so softly, but I have been near death before, and I do not fear it.
I will fly fast, and sure... and find other shores to wander on that will only know the footprints I've left behind.


Scarlett