My Childhood House

Picture Prompt Day 33 - A picture of the house you grew up in

     From left to right, me waving 'Hi' to the camera, my sister running around, and my mom seven and a half months pregnant with my brother.  The little (currently) unborn stink is the reason we had to move, leaving the only house I had ever lived in, the only school I had gone to my entire life, and almost all of my friends.  I wasn't bitter at all.  Nope.  Not at all.

     Funny fact, after we painted our house yellow with green trim (no, we're not sports/Ducks fans, it looked nice) the same color scheme popped up all over the neighborhood and spread all over the city.  I felt so ahead of the curve.

Me and the Siblings

Picture Prompt Day 27 - A picture of yourself and a family member

      On the left, myself and my sister when we were younger.  I wish it still snowed like it used to.  Those are whole apples as eyes, a carrot for the nose, and pistachios for the mouth.  On the right is myself and my brother, when he was still smaller than I was.  Now he's a behemoth with several inches on me.

Don't Die Sis!

Picture Prompt Day 14 - A picture of someone you could never imagine your life without

     This blog is turning into a love letter to my sister, lol! 
     We had friends over for a turkey dinner on Saturday, the AMAZING annual meeting on Sunday, and Monday kinda got away from me so I'm catching up today (Tuesday).

We're Messed Up Man

Picture Prompt Day 10 - The person you do the most messed up things with

     This should be self explanatory.  They have plastic cake decoration foliage in their mouths.  They are goofs and I love them and they make me laugh so hard I have to use my inhaler.  Two live an hour away now, thankfully the other lives a flight of stairs away.

Who I've Been Close to the Longest

Picture Prompt Day 2

     I'm at a point in my life where I have drifted apart from my childhood friends (which hurts more than one might imagine) and have slowly begun drawing close to those I was distant with before.  Such as my younger sister, who you see here 'sailing' with Brown Bear.  He must not be a very good sailor, from the look she's giving us, or he's said something colorful, which would be surprising because I've always found him to be very polite.
     When I think of being close to someone, I think of someone in whom you can confide your thoughts and feelings, even the ones you're afraid others might look at you askance for, someone you turn to when in distress, that you know you can rely on.  While my parents naturally come to mind, especially my father, honestly the first two 'people' think of in these terms are Brown Bear (the teddy you see above) and Taffy, our half German Shepherd/half Airedale Terrier.

    She was about a year older than I was and for as long as I can remember, I viewed her as my older sister.  My parents did a very good job of immediately establishing to Taffy that I was above her on the pecking order and she accepted it with grace.  We have several pictures of infant me on the floor with my toys and in the corner you can see a black, furry Taffy nose, hovering over this new little thing for her to protect.  I can remember hugging her she she was still taller than I was, and I loved laying on the ground, running my toes through her soft, curly fur.  Even when my parents were too busy for me or weren't home or if I just needed a quiet bit of company, Taffy was there.  I was devastated when we had to put her down, finally, at age thirteen, due to cancer.  Hers was the first loss of someone I was close to that I had to deal with and it hit me hard.
     I find it difficult to get close to people, animals are so much easier, but I am glad that I have my sister.  Growing up we weren't close (being just far enough apart in age that I could do 'big girl' things sooner that she could, and traveling in different social circles) but in the last five years, as I graduated from high school and she entered it, we've grown close.  So close that I sometimes swear we're twins born four years apart.  That isn't to say we're exactly the same, we have very different temperaments (think Jane and Lizzy Bennet) and there are some things we cannot agree on (tomatoes, bell peppers, olives, split pea soup, which Outsider is better, comic books), but we can finish each others sentences, often know what other means when what they've said sounds like gibberish to someone else, work well side by side in, and have forged an iron bond.  There is no one I would rather spend time with.

Robyn Batch 12 - Oatmeal cookies

200. Relaxation:  Every performer has a post performance routine to decompress from the show.  Some are more intense or complicated than others but everyone has them.  When Robyn was young, her family always took her out to dinner afterwards with her friends.  As she grew older and was in more and more productions sometimes they would only get ice cream or pie, but they always met to celebrate a job well done.  And then she discovered her newest way of decompressing.  After coming home she would draw a bath, light a few candles (this number grew and grew until she would fill the room), sprinkle in bath salts (menthol or lavender or neroli or vanilla), twist her hair above her head, and sink to her nose in the hot, tension draining water (sometimes with a rubber duck or four).  She would have preferred silence the first time she tried this method but her family inherently made noise so she had played a CD with sounds of wind in the trees and ocean waves gurgling among rocks.  Eventually she grew to prefer that so even when she had her own place and the opportunity to revel in silence, she listened to the sounds of nature to soothe her fried nerves and tired mind.

     My family and I had the same tradition as Robyn and her family, either dinner at Shari's or a snack from Dairy Queen.  After I quit eating ice cream in seventh grade (I found out it was bad for your throat and my allergies thank me) it was the only time I allowed myself to indulge.  Now we go out after my brother's choir concerts, which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

142. Standing Still:  Jericho was leaning against the brick wall of a building across the street from where Robyn was chatting with a shopkeeper.  Finally she had stopped moving!  He had spent the morning following her around per Henry’s orders and quite frankly he was becoming exhausted.  First she had made a trip to the florist’s to pick up two bouquets, then driven her teal, old-fashioned VW Beatle to her aunt’s inn to drop off one of the bouquets.  Evidently the older woman was under the weather so Robyn hadn’t stayed long, driving then to her piano teacher’s home.  There she had again dropped off a bouquet, though not before removing part of it he noticed.  From there she had driven to the downtown shopping district, parked her car and had been walking from shop to shop, picking up various groceries, until she had been caught in a conversation by the owner of the cheese shop.  With a sigh he looked back across the street and was startled to find her gone!  With a startled muttered curse he began scanning the street trying to find her, finally finding her near her car.  She had evidently dropped off her groceries, retrieved the flowers she had set aside earlier, and was now striding straight for him.  Henry had not briefed him on what to do if she approached him.

    “Bored yet?” she asked when she was close enough that they didn’t have to shout.

    “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he decided to play it cool.

    “Of course not,” she smiled.  “I hope you’re here on Henry’s orders and not on your day off.  Because then we might have to have a talk.”

    He wasn’t sure how to respond to that so he just shook his head in mock shame.

    “That’s what I thought.”  She held up a stem with many white bell like blossoms on it, intertwined with a vine with purple flowers, and extended it toward him.  “Would you give this to Henry for me?  I’m going straight home after this and promise I’m not leaving for the evening.  I have several exams to study for.”

    Jericho gingerly took the flower and gave her a quizzical look.  “What is this?”

    “White heather and sweetpeas.  He’ll understand.  Ta ta for now!”  With a wave over her shoulder she turned and returned to her car, waving again as she drove off.

    Jericho looked in confusion at the blooms then hurried to his own car.  He drove past her house to make sure she was indeed home, then drove to his employer’s office.  After assuring Henry that nothing out of the ordinary had happened Jericho handed him Robyn’s gift.

    “This is from her.  She said you’d understand what it meant.”

    Henry twirled the flowers in his fingers and thought for a moment.  “Protection and thanks.  I believe the meaning is fairly clear.”

    Jericho looked at his boss in confusion for several long moments.  How the heck did he know?  How much time did they have to plan out flower meanings?  Henry could read the questions in Jericho’s eyes and gave a half smile.  Too bad he wasn’t in the mood to let him in on the secret.  Let him figure it out on his own.

     I had this wonderful vision of Jericho following Robyn around because he was ordered to and she spends the entire day going turbo, then during that one moment she holds still, Jericho loses track of her.  His freak out was most humorous but this is what ended up being written.  And I love the Victorian flower language so I try to include it when possible.  If I mention flowers by name in a story, you might find it interesting to look up the possible meanings.  I feel many of our modern day exchanges are missing a level of richness and meaning.  It is just the sort of archaic thing Robyn and Henry would both know.

198. Puzzle:  A sigh holding the weight of the world came from Darren Tolliver’s living room and reached him in his kitchen.  Spooning hot clam chowder into two thick ceramic bowls, he carried the steaming food into said living room where his little red headed niece sat brooding over a partially completed Beverly Doolittle puzzle.  As he set the bowls down around the mostly complete edge Robyn heaved another heavy sigh.

    “Are you trying to compete with the gale outside?” he asked gently.  He didn’t always know what to do with the little girl, currently entrusted into his care while her parents, his brother and an English lady, were out on a date.  Usually their sister took care of Robyn but evidently his niece had decided he needed company.  The best he had come up with at the moment was a puzzle likely too hard for her.

    “Do you think Mom and Daddy will be OK?” she asked in a small voice.  She was trying to be brave but he could hear the worry plainly in her voice.

    Putting one of his hands on her head he stroked her silky hair.  “Your daddy’s a good driver Greenling.  He is smart too.  If he thinks the wind is too strong he will call and tell us.”

    Robyn tapped her chowder spoon against her pouted bottom lip as she considered his words.  He was right, her daddy was a good driver, and smart too.  But she didn’t want them to stay away.  *Storm,* she thought, *be quiet until my mommy and daddy get me.  Let me go home and then you can be as strong as you like.*

    As if in response there was a momentary break in the rain hammering the window before it resumed, no harder than before.  With a little smile Robyn acknowledged her uncle and the storm.  “OK.”

15. Blue:  The two men stared around the room they had been given by the woman at the front desk.  When she had said it was the sapphire room she hadn’t been kidding.  The walls were a warm white but the curtains, bedspreads, and lightly jeweled lamp shades were a deep, royal blue.  The carpet was a soft grey to hide stains, the same shade as the floor tiles in the modest sized, white walled bathroom containing a toilet, sink, and bathtub with sapphire colored accents and opaque blue shower curtain.

     They are mob drug runners who spend most of their time in roach infested motels.  They don't know what to do with what they would consider fripperies.

171. Obsession:  Jericho wasn’t sure when protecting Robyn had become more than just a job, when it had become important to him, personally as opposed to professionally, to know her favorite color and flower and song.  When had a week, then a few days, without seeing her and exchanging at least a smile become boring or uncomfortable or lacking?  When had he begun looking for excuses to ‘drop by’?  Taken up his guitar again on her behalf?  Practiced her favorite meal on his day off?  Walked his dog through the forest she so loved instead of merely down the street as usual?

     At first I couldn't decide if I was going to write about Jericho or Henry but decided I could make Jericho less creepy, although I swear Henry has nothing but the purest motives and interest.

120. Fortitude:  They stood firm together against the onslaught, two stones against the rushing fire of opposition.  The invaders might have brute force and money behind them but Aurelia’s children had history and and family and a lifetime of friendship on their side.  As long as they were together and both alive, they would stand strong.

156. Danger Ahead:  When Talulah relayed her colleague, Cissy’s, report of suspicious men in the woods to Austin and when Robyn glimpsed the two strange men in the audience, none of them had any idea of the adventure and danger the pair would bring them.

Day 28 - Jellicles and our other furry friends

August 28 - He called you by your real name

     Coricopat's ears laid flat on his head as his tail bushed and he bared his teeth at the man.
     "He called you by you real name!" he hissed to his sister.  Tantomile simply smiled enigmatically.
     "Yes," she purred, rubbing her head along the outstretched hand.
     *He?  I am offended,* a feminine voice echoed in his head.  *I am glad to know the disguise is effective but really?*
      Cori's eyes crossed as two battling waves hit him.  On one side was his Jellicle self, screaming that this was a human and they were neither telepathic nor able to see their Jellicle forms as he and his sister were in right now.  The other was his animal/cat side telling him that this was a very powerful force that he needed to bow to and love and obey and follow.  Normally his sides dwelt in harmony, the instinctive feral cat and intelligent cerebral Jellicle making up the overall fabric of his being, never before had he felt so torn.  His instincts were trying to tell him something and he quieted his mind to hear the tiny voice.  It came across in bold, capital, bedazzled letters.  GUARDIAN!  This was the being chosen to protect animals, his rational side interpreted, and deserved the obedience of a pack/tribe leader.
     *Very good [             ].*
     Coricopat flinched.  No one ever spoke a Jellicle's Third Name except extremely close mates or siblings.  It was a part of their self-identity, of their soul and it felt like she, for he now knew it was a woman, was poking his life force with a stick.  Only Tantomile knew that name.  It was the only thing he had ever had to consciously share with her, and even then she had never spoken it aloud.
     *Pax child.* Peace brother* came simultaneous messages from his sister and the Guardian.
     *I apologize,* the Guardian sent along with waves of peaceful emotions as his sister twined herself around him.  *Jellicles are on the edge of my jurisdiction so I know less about their society that most creatures I come across.  Know that I would never speak your Third Name/Self-Name aloud or to anyone but you.*
     "Thank you."  His voice was still strangled with emotion but he did his best to convey his appreciation.  Then a thought occurred to him.  "Do you speak Jellicle?"
     The form nodded then replied in the same tongue.  "It requires rearranging my vocal chords a little and I don't think any slang or colloquial terms would translate well but I can understand."

     I wasn't sure where to go with this.  My first thought was Rae but I feel like I am harping on her and not developing her like I should.  My next thought was a Jellicle ... and I really wanted to simply explain why you don't call a Jellicle by their real name, if you should guess it, which you never will.  They don't pull a Rumpelstiltskin and dance around singing it.  I ended up combining them.  For some reason it was always Coricopat saying the prompt, never anyone else in the Tribe or any of my original Jellicle characters, though it did waver between him warning Tantomile or Cantata.  And if I could bedazzle the word Guardian in a sparkly pink-red, I would.


Day 28 - In the Company of Animals

      Ms. Abercrombie discusses various authors who have/had pets, both cats and dogs, as faithful companions, cheerleaders, and muses.  She also briefly discusses the fact that her current furry shadow is a rescue named Nelson.
      I am glad she made the decision to adopt and I think that using a rescue program is an excellent way to go about it.  We have used American Brittany Rescue to adopt our last two dogs and are so happy with our choices. 
     Our first rescue was Sammie, a young male who had been rescued from two different abusive homes (one neglect, the other worse).  When we went to meet him he was already named, well mannered, housebroken and crate trained, and while a little reserved, he got along with us all well.  He was the most nervous around my dad, which broke my father's heart, as he had grown up with Brittanies and even had one named Sam.  We decided one of his previous male owners must have kicked him when he went out the door because he either refused to go outside or was skittish if my dad was standing in/near the door way.  After he had adjusted to the family and warmed up to us all (though he claimed Mom as 'his' person, with me as beta) my dad and sister took an afternoon and slowly taught Sam that Dad wasn't going to hurt him by having Deanna lead him in and out of the house on his leash first with Dad standing next to the doorway, then with Dad petting him as he went though.  Later, from time to time, he would still feel too much pressure if one of us was in the doorway but by and large that was the only residue from his previous life.  Poor thing had terrible genetics and lost several teeth, ended up being mostly blind one eye (which led to several false alarms), and developed arthritis but he enjoyed cuddling and snuggling with everyone and was very glad to meet new people.  He had his preferred spot on the couch and if it was occupied during a party and the person got up, he had no qualms about reclaiming it!  Did I mention Sam's favorite spot during the day was the back of the couch?  He could see the whole neighborhood and get a nap in the sun all at once.

Pleeeeeease will you feed me?

     Our second rescue (whom we have right now) is Charlie.  Charlie is a purebreed, owner surrender, meaning his owner contacted ABR and asked them to come take him away, in this case because the wife and kids weren't happy with the dog the hubby got and wanted a pug.  They had the gall to brag about it to the person who picked him up.  Makes me sooooo mad.  The two major issues we've had to deal with on Charlie were socialization and his hunting drive.  His first family kept him outside, on a chain, so he was very happy outside, with very little interest in people or affection.  Now he gets jealous if we kids are snuggling with Dad on the loveseat, that's his spot!  lol!  We noticed a definite change after our latest camping trip, our first with him.  After dark he would curl up in people's lap or on a camp chair around the fire and since then he has staked out Dad's lap as his, which is really funny because Charlie is on the long side for a Brittany, not really 'lap' size!  For his hunt drive we ended up taking him to a dog trainer and worked with her, getting him to focus on us and learning how to calm him down when he starts racing from window to window, 'hunting' squirrels and birds and moving leaves.  Initially it involved putting him in his crate when he wouldn't stop, but now a firm 'Down' and 'Stay' works very well.  He'll complain a bit at first but then he'll settle down for a nap.  Phew.
     I could write pages and pages and pages about our beloved Brittanies, their similarities and differences and quirks and adventures (and not even start on our gerbils or my favorite cats) but sufficed to say, writer or not, pets are very important, to love and to snuggle with, with no judgement or malice or ulterior motive (unless it's dinnertime).