Book Excerpt 3 – Travellers and Tramps

Only 99 cents!

Only 99 cents!


For those who have read the previous two excerpts and then wondered, “WHERE IS PROSPECTOR?”  Have no fear.

All lovers of Splat can rejoice!

The Last Prospector (available for only 99 cents on Amazon!) was, predictably, all about Prospector.  But the Song of Solstice is a big story, Travellers and Tramps really opens up the world of Solstice.  There are many new people to meet. Prospector is a constant though, he is the key to everything.

At the end of The Last Prospector, Tonyo and Prospector received orders from The Boss.  They are to finish the Keptyn Pike – btw, I’m a little wounded no one saw what I did there, but no matter, onward – and today’s sample finds the men at their work.

Please enjoy!



Right now, they were waiting for it to stop pouring.  Tonyo was up ahead with a group of the stronger Lofts taking down a medium sized tree in the way while Prospector was at the paving with his crew of twenty.  Huddled together under the canopy of tightly woven gossamer protecting the freshly laid concrete, he hoped it would end soon enough to get another few feet of pike done before torchset.

 This part of the jungle was deksum territory.  The thirty foot long serpents could be heard every night slithering below Napaaqtuq.  The sound of their scales scraping against the trunks made Prospector’s blood run cold.  Deksums were not beasties he could hope to control like cats or zebras.

The jungle downpours started as quickly as they stopped.  This one had been going for a half an hour and kept getting heavier.  Prospector decided to call a halt for the day, it was too close to torchset to risk anyone’s life.

  “Go on up, Mak and I’ll catch up to the others, bring ‘em home,” he told Aput who clearly agreed.

 “Deksums have much boldness, more than before the road.” This was not meant to be a rebuke, Aput was not criticizing as much as warning.  Prospector still detected a tone.

 “Aye I noticed.  It’s still early enough not to worry, I reckon.”  Prospector was trying to reassure himself as much as Aput.

 Zilubra and Makyldun were the only mounts.  The Lofts traveled the tree tops rather than the jungle floor. Prospector had a tightness in his gut that felt like something was wrong.  His instincts saved him many times in his life, so he never ignored his gut.  He called Mak.  Going alone was not the wisest thing, but there was no other option.  He leaned into the cat and sped out into the rain.

Aput already had the road gang up the vines and into the tangle of foliage.  The Lofts rarely ever used the lift themselves, preferring to use the series of gossamer lines and ladders ringing Napaaqtuq.  They knew more about protecting themselves from the dangers of the jungle than even the Viridyans.  Prospector wasn’t worried about them. 

He was worried about something though.  He felt danger around him like it was part of the rain washing over his skin.  Mak flew through the jungle towards the scent of Tonyo and Zilubra.  The wet leaves they passed slapped angrily against Prospector’s legs.  The cat’s body was tense beneath him and Mak’s ears flicked quickly in all directions.  As the rain eased, the jungle seemed to close in around them.  Prospector suddenly felt very small, intimidated by the towering trees.

The roar of the raindrops hitting the foliage was gone leaving an eerie silence in its place.  Mak slowed down of his own will, lowering his body close to the ground and prowling forward through the undergrowth.  Prospector held his breath and waited for the return of birdsong that always burst from the trees after the skies cleared.  It didn’t come.

 Approaching the last bend before Tonyo’s crew, Prospector found himself praying for the safety of his people.  It was not something he usually did simply because he had enough faith The Boss always knew what was happening.  But he was scared now and wanted to make sure.  A low, throbbing growl came from Mak’s chest as they came around the bend, his whiskers twitching faster than the zebra’s ears.  Prospector closed his eyes.

A shout pierced the air and Mak lurched to a stop.  Prospector’s eyes came open, relief flooding over him in a cool wave.  The tree was down and the crew was in the process of hauling it away from the site with Tonyo in the lead pulling a thick rope.  All of them were well, laughing and teasing each other loudly.  None had noticed Prospector yet and he was glad of that.

He wasn’t sure what girlish madness overtook him and didn’t need the younger people mocking his non-vine swinging self more than they already did.  He composed his face and hailed the group.  Zilubra shook her head at Mak but he didn’t respond with his usual meows.  He was still quite tense, but Prospector wasn’t noticing in his relief.

Tonyo dropped his rope and pulled himself up onto the log with a couple of Lofts, waving hello and spreading his arms with pride.  It was a fairly large tree and Prospector was dubious about it coming down in one day with their inadequate axes.  It motivated Tonyo to get that puppy down as fast as possible.

Some of the crew on the ground were cheering at Tonyo’s display.  He happily played for the crowd as Prospector watched.  The Lofts on the tree next to Tonyo stopped cheering and their pale eyes widened.  Prospector saw their long arms come up in slow motion.  He saw their lips moving but couldn’t hear them.  Then Tonyo looked up and the fear in his eyes was visible from far away.

“Meowch!”  A chorus of voices yelled, pointing behind Prospector. He did not turn to look.  Meowch was the Loft word for cat, really big cat.

Prospector leaned into Mak.  “Run!”  He said, but the cat was already moving.


Read excerpt one here.

Read excerpt two here.

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The Last Prospector – Price Reduction

Only 99 cents!

Only 99 cents!


If you haven’t yet visited the world of Solstice, now is a great time!

You can now get THE LAST PROSPECTOR on Kindle for only 99 cents!

Book two of the Song of Solstice, Travellers and Tramps, is coming next month.  I’m so excited about the birth of my second literary child that I’m putting the first one on sale!

Here’s a sampling from the reviews:

“It is rare to see an author create a world that is truly fully formed.”

“Characters that exist, live, and truly feel as if they have lives that do not solely revolve around service to the plot. A genuinely character driven tale, with people you come to care for so quickly and easily it is surprising.”

“A solid, well-paced, wholly-realized Fantasy world and vibrant characters who live there.”

Intrigued?  Ready to find out for yourself what all the hoopla is about?


Solstice is just a couple of clicks away :)

Be sure to come back tomorrow for yet another SPECIAL OFFER for THE LAST PROSPECTOR!

Only 99 cents!

Only 99 cents!

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Book Excerpt 2 – Travellers and Tramps

Hey look!  It's The Last Prospector!!

Hey look! It’s The Last Prospector!!



Travellers and Tramps is coming next month.  Who else has a tingly feeling all over?

Last week I shared THIS EXCERPT RIGHT HERE IN THIS CLICKY SPACE.  It was a humorous look at the foibles of Captain Awnyx Tiell.  In this follow up to The Last Prospector, Awnyx is continuing his mission to locate some very hard to find items.

The most dangerous part of his journey is to climb The Knives, a forbidding chain of mountains that form the western edge of Solstice.  What lies beyond the boundaries of Solstice is a nether region known as the nullvoid, no one ever goes near the peaks in fear of falling into the nullvoid.

We join the story as Awnyx is trying to mine a chunk of teoru from one of the peaks.  Please enjoy!


The bulge was right overhead now.  Awnyx used a small crack in the rock to pull his body the rest of the way and hammered in several pitons all around.  He secured himself against the rock with several ropes and clips, triple checking them all before bringing out the pouch of magicks.

The chunk of teoru was big.  It would go a long way towards filling up the rest of his sack, and smelled especially bad to Awnyx’s nose.  He would never get used to that smell and willed his nearly empty stomach not to heave as he brought out a large piece of dhabh.  The coarse dark blue potion treated fabric would encase the teoru.  Next were the spool of primer cord and a vial of enkindler. 

The torch was setting behind Awnyx and he tried not to rush himself.  He was burned once early on in the expedition by being too hasty with the extraction.  Fortunately, he brought an assortment of medicines and salves from Yndigon and the burn healed very well.  It had hurt though, he could actually smell his flesh burning.  The memory of Snatch burning in Urro haunted him for days afterwards.  That was much worse than the physical pain, so Awnyx had been excruciatingly careful since then.  The winds were stronger after torchset, whipping the edges of the dhabh as he laid it over the chunk of teoru as flush to the rock face as possible.

“Seal,” he said to the fabric, feeling just as ridiculous this time as he had the first.

Awnyx did not understand magicks at all, but Pulyn told him it far more than potions and elixirs.  The words are important, she told Awnyx.  It was the very same thing Snatch said in the dream.  The Shaman explained words were an expression of intent, desire and will.  The sound of the words was a form of energy that ignited magick.  The words didn’t need to be mysterious or even understandable to others, but a pure expression of thought coupled with a pure action from the speaker.  Thus far, all the magicks worked as they were supposed to.  But Awnyx still disliked playing with them and was tiring of this grand adventure.

At the sound of his word, the dhabh shimmered slightly and merged with the rock face, protecting Awnyx from the ooze.  He was measuring out a length of primer cord when he heard the sickening sound of rock cracking and checked all his moorings again.  Pulse racing, he tried not to think about the rock face breaking underneath his weight, freeing his body for the winds to push into the nullvoid.  Awnyx’s hands trembled as he arranged the length of primer cord around the perimeter of the bulge, his ears listening sharp for any noises. 

“Seal,” he said again, to the cord this time, but his voice sounded thin.  The cord fastened around the teoru and there was but one last step.  The next crack was louder and closer.  It was almost full dark, Awnyx could not see very far but knew the peak was breaking away around him.

For a split second he considered shimmying down as quickly as he could.  But the large chunk of teoru might fill his bag and Awnyx wanted this to be over.  He gritted his teeth and firmly gripped the vial of enkindler, carefully pulling out the dropper.  It only took one drop, but it needed to be right on the thin primer cord.  Aiming was difficult in the wind with his frozen fingers.

Holding his breath, he steadied his hand over the cord and released the drop of amber colored liquid onto the primer.  It sizzled and glowed, ringing the teoru in a thin orange fire that ate into the rock as the dhabh closed in around it.  Awnyx held the dhabh covered chunk in his hand, feeling it separate from the rock.  It took several minutes to get all the around the large piece that felt like days to Awnyx as he listened for another crack.

There was a leather pouch securely attached to Awnyx’s belt.  He held the opening up to the bulge, willing it to hurry and fall in.  The sickening noise accompanying the teoru as it came away from the rock was louder than a crack.  It was louder than the booming thunder that rolled and echoed off the peaks of Yndigon.  The rocks actually screamed in high pitched fury as the rock face broke away around the fresh holes punched into it by The Big Man.

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Book Excerpt – Travellers And Tramps

2014-10-02 12.04.44


It’s now October, the month I mandated for buckling down and publishing book two.  Here’s a quick recap of my progress so far:

October 1 – Adopted another kitty.  Who can work with a new baby in the house?

October 2 – Discovers that Microsoft added a jigsaw puzzle game, spends day puzzling.

October 3 – Tell everyone on Twitter that I’m going to dig into my project. Posts blog instead.

Pretty impressive body of work for only three days, eh?

No, I really am serious.  My 50th birthday is near the end of this month and I’m determined to have most of the publishing done by then.  REALLY!

Each Friday this month I will share an excerpt from Travellers and Tramps.  Not too long ago, I introduced you to Awnyx Tiell.  He is my absolute favorite character to write and his story really gets started in the new book.   Let’s start off with a little scene that might help you understand how his mind works.  Hope you like it!


The mob of surly Cyans appeared around Awnyx from nowhere.  He tensed and re-secured his hard won cargo underneath one arm.  He may have gone soft over the long time travelling the blue tier, but he still reckoned he could take them.  Most of them anyway.  He also reckoned that it was a good run, over now since these southerners were on to him.  The pack circled him warily, eyeing him with malicious blue eyes, babbling in some incomprehensible brogue and laughing among themselves.  Awnyx never backed away from a fight.  Today would be no different, if it came to that.  Finally the biggest one, a female, stepped in close and pointed an accusing finger towards his head.

“He mu’ be Yndigon, he got the blue streaks, dontcha?”

 Awnyx slid his right hand towards his pocket and knife, trying not to draw any notice.  The mob moved in closer to argue about Awnyx’s hair.  He could knock the wind out of the big one easily, and shove the two medium sized ones together.

 “Nay, he’s go’ th’ silver aaaaaayes,” one of the mediums disagreed.

 “Bu’ he nay dark,” the other medium protested.

 The disagreement in the ranks was making them angry.  Awnyx saw the hatred on their Cyannish faces as they all turned on him.  That’s when the little one made his move.  He’s the one Awnyx was worried about because he was small and fast.  The Big Man really hated the small and fast ones.  He had to make his move now and take them by surprise as best he could.  He shoved his hand the rest of the way into his pocket and felt the cool handle of the knife.  Awnyx poised his body to take them out, keeping his original plan of winding the girl thug first and taking his chances with the small.  Just as he was about to draw the weapon, he heard a loud bang behind him, the sound of wood splintering against wood.

 “Oy, will ye’ bairns leave the poor man be?  Get off with ye now, to yer chores, go on.”  A smiling man moved into the crowd and scattered the attackers, holding his hand out to Awnyx.  “Hullo, Nyrman Wyndt, proprietor.  Well one o’ the proprietors anyway.”

 Awnyx tried to keep his cool, but that was a close one.  Children were worse than the giant serpents simply because the serpents could only be found in Viridys.  The little mongrels, on the other hand, were absolutely everywhere.  He almost forgot what brought him here in the first place.  Soon, he remembered that he was tired of walking.  He shook Nyrman’s hand and said, “Name’s Tiell, I hear you have mounts to sell.”

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Thirty Selfies – A Retrospective

WIN_20140907_195024 (2)


There was no reason behind the Thirty Selfies project.  I wasn’t promoting anything in particular, perhaps my brand in general, but there was no cause.  It was just another bit of Twitter merriment.  Like the blood pact I made with S.E. Lehenbauer not too long ago.

I need to learn how to weld by the end of 2015 or I will be honor bound to go into a Hobby Lobby and purchase something.



Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time to escape that dire fate.  I won’t let you down.

Thirty Selfies was born from my love of other people’s selfies.  I love the un-self consciousness of selfies, the willingness to abandon the constraints of beauty so you can show your smiling mug to the world.  Eight smiling faces jammed into the small frame of phone camera like balloons crammed into a bag, GORGEOUS!

2014-09-21 19.43.40 (2)


Every day in September, I posted a new selfie to Facebook and Twitter.  By the second week, I was sure my friends were sick of my face and would beg me to stop.  Well, the reason my friends are my friends is because they are incredible, supportive people.

2014-09-15 11.09.06


Each day, each new selfie, started it’s own conversation.  No one accused me of being a vainglorious narcissist, which would have been perfectly fair.  No one told me to go do something important with my time.

Instead, they encouraged me to keep going, greeting each new selfie warmly and often with a comment that rumbled my belly with giggles.  Occasionally, my selfies inspired others to snap one and share, those were my favorites.

WIN_20140918_101203 (2)


Thirty Selfies brought me closer to my friends.  It was a series of intimate moments shared by thousands that was in no way intrusive.  It was actually inclusive.  I didn’t set out to learn something or enrich myself, just have some fun.  But I did learn something very important.

WIN_20140924_081806 (2)


I am beautiful :)



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Speed Date With Awnyx Tiell

Get your kangaroo shoes on because it’s blog hopping time!  I was invited to join the Meet My Main Character blog hop.  I am delighted to formally present Awnyx Tiell to the world (this world).  He had a small part in The Last Prospector.  In book 2, Travellers and Tramps, Awnyx is continuing the mission he started to procure some hard to find items.

He also drinks a lot, but that’s neither here nor there.

First, let’s offer a big round of applause to MARIAN ALLEN for tagging me along.

(pause for clapping)  (although “pause for applause” sounds better)  (but I already used applause, so…)

Alrighty, let’s dig in.


What is the name of your character?

Awnyx Tiell, Captain of the Fist.  Also known as The Big Man and Ynoirya’s favorite stud.


Is he a fictional or historic person?

He is a fictional character and yet history here will remember him fondly.  The recent history of Solstice is rich with the exploits of The Big Man.  Books will probably be written about him.  Books in Solstice, I mean, because I’ve already written books about him here.  Wow, this is confusing, what was the question again?


When and where is the story set?

The story is set in the world of Solstice, a land of great natural beauties and magicks.  When is an irrelevant question.  The story is set approximately 1,000 years after the first Prospector was sired.  Prospector was the focus of the first book, he’s in this one too.  But we’re not talking about Prospector, we’re talking about Awnyx.  Quit straying off topic.

Hey look!  It's The Last Prospector!!

Hey look! It’s The Last Prospector!!


What should we know about him?

Awnyx is a big man with big appetites, especially liquor and women.  He’s a born fighter, a natural leader and a charming rascal when it suits him.  Despite his tactical prowess, Awnyx can be amazingly dumb and needs the help of good friends to keep him from doing colossally stupid things.  He is currently between friends.


What is the main conflict?  What messes up his life?

Awnyx has mommy issues.  Ygrit was not a good mother and, even though Awnyx left home at age 11, her rejection colors his entire life.  The Big Man already accomplished something no one else in the history of Solstice was able to, still he feels unworthy of love.

Also, his superior officers have sent him on a very long and treacherous mission.  They are setting him up for something big and bad.  Poor guy doesn’t have a clue.


What is the personal goal of the character?

His overriding goal is to acquire all the items on his list and complete the mission.  However, Awnyx is a man in the middle of a big transition.  Many things happen that cause him to reevaluate his future.  He has not the smallest clue at this time just how big his part is in the Final War between the Twins.  I think Awnyx’s personal goal is the same as most of ours, to be happy.


Is there a working title for this novel and can we read more about it?

The book is titled Travellers and Tramps, Song of Solstice Book 2.  You can read excerpts from the story right here on this blog all throughout October.


When can we expect the book to be published?

Look for it near the middle of November, just in time to buy a copy for all your family, friends and neighbors for the holidays!


Now I get to tag some fellow authors and keep this blog hopping.

I call on thee, A.K. Anderson and your self titled blog!

A K Anderson is the pen name of an author based in Atlanta, GA.

I tweet from @A_K_Anderson about writing, sci fi, and general geekery.  I  am also an internet marketing and SEO geek, so I talk about that sometimes, too.  I might even write a book on the subject.

Speaking of books, I’m currently querying literary agents about my novel Salvaged.  Salvaged focuses on the survivors following a series of diseases.  One woman survived more diseases than most, and her secret is something people will do anything to possess.

Cain S. Latrani of Brutal Bunnies and Other Random Madness, thee are also called.

Cain S. Latrani is a purely fictional creation, existing only in the mind of his creator, where he dates super models, drives expensive cars, is tall, buff and staggeringly handsome.

The bastard.

(Can anyone tell me how to get rid of that “warning illegal string offset” business at the top of my posts?  I can’t seem to get rid of it since the WordPress update)


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So Not What She Asked For

Buy My Book!

Buy My Book!


A couple of weeks ago, a reader made a simple request of me.  Jo Ann has a new blog up and running.  She’s going to start writing more and wants a few paragraphs about digging to make the words flow.

Well, I have both dillied and dallied at this task.  Her simple request gave the uneasy and ignored voice inside me the impetus to start yelling.  Finally, yesterday I sat down and the following is what came out.  Since this is not what the lovely JoAnn asked for, it might as well be a blog post.


Being a fiction writer, one of things I dislike most is having to tell the truth.  It’s inconvenient, for one thing, and a big elephant in the metaphorical room.  There’s only so long you can pretend it’s not there before you finally summon the courage to charge at it head on.  Even though there is a strong possibility of getting bruised or taking a tusk in the solar plexus.

With apologies to Jo Ann, I’ve been putting off writing this for too many days now.  Her seemingly simple request threw a glaring spotlight on the distinctly large pachyderm in my kitchen.  There has been a malingering question lurking around for some time, it’s high time for an answer.  It’s an age old question, sometimes even a question of age.  My 50th birthday is zooming towards me like a runaway train, age is on my mind.

But it’s a question plaguing many of us:  Do I still have it?

When I began writing the Song of Solstice series over three years ago, three and a half books were written in very short order.  Over the course of about eight months, I was consumed with the story and it spilled from my fingers like magic.  Working out a chapter per day, sometimes I wrote for seven hours at a stretch.  Often, I was still in my pajamas by late afternoon.

Looking back now, I see what a wonderful luxury it was to have that kind of time.  A time free of other distractions, the time to worry about nothing other than the story.  Those months are gilded in my memory as some of the happiest of my life.  Perhaps it was magic, because something magical was born from it.

It couldn’t last, of course.  It didn’t last.  Life intervened in a series of great losses and upheavals.  With so many urgent situations requiring my full attention, Solstice fell away from me.  The luxury of time was not on my side anymore and I stopped writing the story.

Now that the earth around me has stopped quaking and most of the rubble cleared out, it’s time to start writing again.  I’ve been saying that for a few months now and even wrote a few chapters for book four here and there – we’ll get to those in a moment.  It’s different now.  Everything about the way I write has changed, there is a very high level of discomfort in that realization.

I’m using a different computer.  I have different pets.  Everything I’ve learned recently about editing colors every word.  My dad is no longer alive to encourage me.  My favorite cowboy pajamas finally saw their last rodeo.  Everything is different.

So the question malingers:  Do I still have it?

Can I continue writing the story as a changed author without an interruption of voice?  If so, will it be a greater or lesser work because of the changes?  Let’s go back to those recent chapters.  After reviewing them with fresh eyes, they are actually pretty good!  They flow harmoniously with the previously written chapters and there’s clearly more refinement to my craft nowadays.

I can’t be the only writer who’s had to answer that malingering question.  Life happens to us all, we are all forced eventually to break from the familiar and find new paths.  It’s scary stuff, trying to figure out who I am as a writer all over again.

My writing style is evolving.  I can either embrace the changes or stop writing altogether because it’s never going to be so simple again.  Every writer has her own style.  Maybe each writer has several different incarnations and each one writes differently from the other.

The only thing I really need to remember is that the voice is still mine.  The outward trappings don’t affect my inner voice.  It’s my journey, only I can walk this path.


Now that’s out of the way, perhaps I can focus on what Jo Ann really wants.  In the meantime, please go visit her blog, Shhh!  Can’t You See I’m Writing? and give her some blog love.

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30 Selfies

One day as I was driving Dad to his radiation,  I mentioned something about taking a selfie.  He gave me a look and grumbled, I inquired about the grumble.

“I don’t want pictures like that of you on the internet,” he barked.

It was indeed an awkward moment  when I had to explain to him what a selfie wasn’t.

For the three of you who have not yet indulged in the fun of a selfie, it is only a picture of you taken by you, generally with a phone or other mobile device.  I have quite a few selfies on file, such as this gem inspired by an actual news story:

Colander selfie


For the record, I love selfies.  Some say they are the ultimate reflection of our narcissism, and that is true of some.  But that’s just a small percentage made up of politicians, celebrities and other borderline personalities.  By and large, I view selfies as the opposite of narcissism and that’s what I love about them.

How many really pretty selfies have you seen?  Mostly the angles are skewed, the lighting is wonky, the pose is awkward and some hairs are out of place.  They can be really unattractive, and yet people still post them anyway.  That is beautiful to me, the willingness to be unattractive and the joy of letting go.

We live in a beauty obsessed culture, programmed to aim for beauty in all things.  So, when someone posts an awkward selfie, what I see is what’s inside.  The fearlessness, the joie de vivre, the subversive thumbing of the nose at standards of pretty.  I LOVE THAT!

I consciously made a choice when I started taking selfies not to get bogged down in thinking about being pretty.  My goal is to just have fun and hope those who view it see what’s inside me.

To demonstrate my affection for selfies, I’ll be taking a new one every day in September.  My avatar on Twitter and FB profile picture will be changed daily and I’m definitely not guaranteeing any pretty.

One caveat before I let you kids out of class.  I have a dumb phone.  In order to take a picture of myself with it, I have to turn it so I can’t see the screen.  It makes for some creative angles, so be prepared 😉

2014-08-31 13.15.58


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Sledgehammer of Justice

Blindfolded sledgehammer



Last week I participated in the epic silliness that is GISHWHES.  It’s a global scavenger hunt with hundreds of teams vying for a luxury cruise on a pirate ship in Croatia.  Really.  

With over 180 items on the list, such as bite Luis Suarez gently, each member of every team had a broad range of strange activities to document with either an image or video.

On my end, I sang Dust in the Wind in a manufactured dust storm, choreographed and performed The Dance of the Acyclic Graph, and made an angel from feminine hygiene products.




Towards the end, as we were scrambling to cram in as many entries before the deadline as possible, I took on the challenge of finding an object I was holding onto for all the wrong reasons and destroying it mightily.

Honestly, when I took the item I REALLY intended to destroy some old piece of restaurant equipment.  Really, really.  I have quite a bit still and am not likely to open another cafe.

The problem was that I wasn’t holding onto them for the wrong reasons.  It’s all still useful stuff, I use them, friends borrow them and most of it was expensive to obtain.  No, to stay true to the task, I couldn’t just destroy something for the sake of destruction.

Another problem was that I’d spent months purging the house of random stuff.  Pretty much everything left was being held onto for the right reasons.  Casting a wider net in with my mind’s eye, the answer came to me Friday morning.

The dollhouse.

It belonged to the girls when they were young.  No one played with it much and it’s been ignored for about 15 years.  I repeatedly asked the stepchild to remove it from my home over the years.  It’s been moved around in various forms of storage and no one ever asked about its welfare.

Both of my husband’s children are estranged from me, it’s been that way for a while.  I’m pretty angry with them, it’s no secret.  Despite that, if the dollhouse actually meant something to someone, I wouldn’t have destroyed it.

But I did.  Gleefully.

Good golly it was glorious!  My wonderful friend William manned the camera for me and I went to town on that puppy.  It was delightful, expressing all the rage towards the kids that’s been stored up for a couple of years.  I don’t know why the audio didn’t work, but I had a verbal reason for each and every blow.

It was over too quickly.  I haven’t had that much fun since the skydive a few months back.  The best parts where when bits of dollhouse went zinging around the yard from the force of the blows.  Delightful!

The worst was over!

The worst was over!



GISHWHES 2014 is over and in the record books now, literally.  At times it was almost grueling, but it was tremendous fun and I’d probably do it again.  I’m quite grateful for the unexpected therapy session, it was much needed.

Are you holding onto something for all the wrong reasons?  Please consider destroying it mightily.  If you do, please document it and share with me, Sister Sledgehammer.

And here it is, my finest moment.  Please enjoy :)


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Keeping Up With The Orlando Joneses

Game of Jones

Game of Jones


I am taking the week off from scraping wallpaper paste and agonizing about paint colors.  If you have any kind of social media pulse, you already know this week is GISHWHES 2014 – although you may have no clue what a GISHWHES actually is.

The Greatest Internet Scavenger Hunt The World Has Ever Seen is exactly as advertised.  It’s massive, it’s global, it’s ridiculous.  It’s entirely too much fun.  I’ve been wanting to do it for a while, so when one of my friends decided to form a team, I signed right up.

There are over 180 items on the list.  Some of them are really involved, requiring set pieces and costumes.  A handful of the items are fairly easy, pretty much all teams will be able to finish them.  One of those easy items is to set up a parody social media site for a derivation of the actor Orlando Jones and gain 400 followers by Friday.

I set up my team’s account on Twitter, along with just about everyone else.  As of this writing,  @ScorlandoJones is very close to the goal of 400.  Easily half of those followers are fellow Gishers and their parody accounts.  What is so awesomely cool, and blog-worthy, about this is the easy generosity of all involved.

Twitter is notorious for haters, trolls and blowhards.  The #brolando enterprise could have been a pack of snarling dogs fighting over bones.  It very easily could have turned ugly.

What happened instead is a love fest.  We are all Gishers, we all have the same goals and we all realize this little goal is bringing us together.  Even non-Gishers are commenting about the camaraderie and community we have built in ONLY THREE DAYS!

It’s some kind of social media miracle.  I’m delighted to be part of it and even more delighted it evolved so quickly into a system of sharing and support.

That’s just a smattering of the most recent tweets, but you get the idea.  Wouldn’t it be nice if Twitter was always like that?  Well, there is no time for pondering deep philosophical questions today.  I need to put glitter on my set piece 😀

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