The Literary Nuts

A new story that I'm working on...

Chapter One

There was not one who frequented the coffee shop on the corner road who would have taken it upon themselves to call the young lady who sat at the window seat each day “unfriendly.” Her manner was well-bred and genteel, yet she made no friends with her company, of the regular coffee and tea drinkers. This, in another, would have been enough for her to have been labeled a most unpleasant sort, yet none out of the assorted group would have so much as said she was disagreeable. She did not seek to be friends, nor did she seek to be enemies, and people grew used to her, as they would to a permanent detail of the room, such as a painting or table. They grew used to seeing her sitting by her window, one hand propping up her forehead, the other marking her page within the book she was reading. No longer did they attempt to distract this girl from her reading by such things as conversation, for they learned to realize such pursuits were useless. In return to any pleasantry remarks and conversation starters she would nod politely, smile, and go back to her book after an adequately polite pause.

They knew of her, only what they could perceive with their own eyes. The most observant one of them might have given a detailed description as to her appearance, yet even he would be unable to give even the feeblest account as to her character or personality. As with a fixture of the room, she soon ceased to be thought of as mysterious in any way. The faded green armchair situated in the corner received just about as much attention as the girl with the auburn hair and her book. To someone who did not frequent the coffee shop on corner road she was perhaps an oddity. Amidst the people who came each day to sip their coffee or tea and chatter busily to their neighbor she looked rather out of place. She was the one person in all of that busy place who sat alone with two empty chairs pulled up to her table.  She was the one person who sat silent, who did not chatter or converse, but who sat, serenely turning each page to that ever present book.

As was the daily frequenters of the small coffee shop, she was a person of habit. It was an unusual day that she did not make an appearance soon after the small clock on the wall had given its habitual tinkling of chimes upon the hour, as it signaled midday. Each day she appeared, each day she smiled to the waitress and ordered her usual cup of tea, and each day she sat down at the smallest table by the window and opened her book. None disturbed her in her habitual order of things.

Either the two young men, entering the coffee shop that day, had no respect for the order of things, as was popular opinion whispered in hushed tones. Or they simply did not know any better, which was considered highly unlikely. Either way, upon making an entrance they did a most unheard of thing. After ordering two cups of coffee, one to be heavily sugared, they glanced around the room and politely requested to take the two unused seats at the small table by the window. It was, to be sure, a very busy day in the small shop, and no other two available seats were placed together within the shop’s walls. However, to do such a thing was most inconsiderate, so the people said. The young lady was not to be disturbed. It was the well learned, and now well taught, rule of the place.

“The young lady” did not show the slightest sign of being perturbed by this change in the order of things. She did what anyone aware of her personality would have expected her to do; she smiled sweetly and said “but of course!” as if it were a turn of events she was delighted in and it were no greater pleasure than to be interrupted in her reading. After the young men had placed themselves at the adjacent corner of the table however, she glanced down at her book, clearly showing she wished to return to its depths. The proper behavior at this point would have been for the young men to have waited quietly for her to become wholly engrossed within her book and then to have proceeded to converse quietly amongst themselves, this however, they did not do.

The one who appeared to be the younger stared fixedly at the spine of her book for a moment and then said in affected accents “Chesterton, eh? Me thinks I have not yet by perchance come upon that particular title. If it would not trouble thou too heartily, might I beg for a glance to ascertain its content?” the girl stared at him blankly.

“Don’t mind Ted,” the other boy said quickly now that a conversation seemed to be in order. “He’s just been reading a mite too much ye’ olden British literature.”

“Theodore, my dear chap. Theodore, must I be forced to repeat it every second sentence? Dear fellow, my name happens not to be “Ted” nor even “Teddy” ‘tis Theodore Kent- at your service.” he finished off as he remembered his gentlemanly manners to the lady present.

“I’m Tommy Kent, pleased to meet you.” the other boy said now, sighing.

“Annette Gardiner.” The girl said, her face wrinkling up in a look of amusement that coffee shop had yet to have seen before.

With only a brief look of regret she handed over her book to the hands of the eager Theodore, who looked like he would have enjoyed eating up the book as a side course, along with his sugary coffee.

“Has he been like this long?” Annette asked of Tommy with mock solemnity. Tommy took a long contemplative sip from his coffee mug and raised an eyebrow. “He’s always been a nut if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m not sure it is.”

“Well, it’s what I mean, to be sure. I suppose I’m a bit of a nut myself, but Ted’s long gone.”

“Ted” here interposed. “M’dear Tommy, ‘tis all fine and dandy to be calling a fellow a nut, but you must remember to state that if I’m a nut I’m a literary nut!”

“Oh, quite literary indeed,” Annette joined in, “I’ve rarely seen such an obviously literate fellow in all of my born days!”

Here Theodore kissed her hand graciously.

“To tell the truth, we rather sought your acquaintance because you looked quite literate yourself.” Tommy said rather bashfully. “We were just going to leave the coffee shop but you seemed like someone you’d want to know- so we joined you.”

“Indeed I am most honored.” She said, finding the formal tones rather catching. “Am I singled out in this honor, pray, or do you two often seek out any stray personages who happen to be reading at the time?”

“Well, that’s just the thing,” said Tommy “We have just now decided to form a league where we shall hunt down literary sorts of people. You’re our first one.”

“We are calling ourselves the literary nuts, to be sure,” added Theodore grinning rather broadly. “It’s not stalking if that’s what you think,” He added “merely seeking the acquaintance of.”

Writers Block

It is a malady most terrible. The heart that does not tremor before sword or lance is rendered helpless before it. The most courageous must find themselves daunted as they look upon the vast wasteland struck dumb before the hand of this monstrosity. For by its fearsome hand, the very words are stilled from the pen. As is the pen mightier than the sword, so is the malady that stills the pen a more all consuming and petrifying one than that that stills the sword. The very name chills the valiant hearts of so many gallant writers across the world; such is the awful and horrifying thing that is called writers block.

Writers block, procrastination, intimidation, which is it that I am struggling with?

I really can’t tell you at the present time. Perhaps it is a mixture of all three. I think however that it is of the most, intimidation. You see, I have reached a certain point in quite a few of my stories, where it has become intimidating for me. I want to proceed. I know how I want to proceed. I open the word document and start scrolling down through all of the pages and pages of paragraphs saved under a certain title and I just don’t know where to begin. It doesn’t help that when it reaches that point it takes rather a long time to scroll through it all, and to top it all my computer freezes when I am scrolling through more than twenty pages in any one file.

Intimidation then strikes procrastination. I fiddle a little bit with a few sentences but leave any in depth editing and continuation for later…and we all know how that ends, don’t we? Later never comes, it’s always just a day away. Like “tomorrow” we can never really arrive at “later” it eludes us and escapes with each day that passes. A winsome butterfly that we are chasing but it slips through our grasps and we see it calling us, still just a day away, always just one more day and we will be in tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes it transforms into today, and a new tomorrow is shining for us to see.

With intimidation and procrastination comes writers block. You don’t want to proceed on anything new without first proceeding on the old. So we are at a standstill.

But enough, enough, I say!

Enough intimidation! Enough procrastination! Enough of this writers block!

What I need is to start writing consistently, and the only way to write consistently is to get into the habit. The habit of writing a little bit every day, which is a habit I want to be in. So my new goal (goals are very good things, you know) is to write a little bit every day- I think I shall start with my goal being a thousand, maybe two thousand words a day. That is really a quite easy amount, but the difficulty is not the amount but in the consistency.

So that is my new goal, to bring about an end to this dreaded disease, this writers block!

End of my proud little speech.

(Small print)

Wanted: a cure for writers block. Contact our agency with any new found information concerning this malady. Tips, suggestions, helpful advice would be welcomed with opened arms. Also accepting; basic rambling on dealings with this disease, sympathy, pats on the head, chocolate and coffee. Any addition would be welcome. We are open Monday through Sunday, twenty-four hours a day. All responses will of course be accepted through our commenting system. Thank you, and have a very nice day. *cuts off with a burst of loud static*

As I sit by the Heater

Outside my window…the light of day is growing dim. It is not yet night time by any means but the light of the afternoon is fading quickly, and it looks more to be evening time than afternoon now. I am sitting with the laptop placed atop my knees, with my back leaning against the wall so that I might sit cozily by the heater as I write. The heater is giving off a nice warm glow of heat and I feel that I could really be a little grey kitten and curl up in my little warm patch. A little patch of warm just like a little puddle of sunlight streaming in through the window just meant to be curled up in. Except you see, there is no sunshine streaming in through the window, only a soft sort of green light. It sounds strange saying that, a soft green light and you rather think of an eerie sort of light, or what it reminds me most is that place in-between our world and Narnia described in “The Magician’s Nephew,” and really that latter description fits rather well come to think of it. Perhaps it’s just the mood I’m in, but the world has that sleepy peaceful sort of feel that accompanies the soft green light of that enchanted forest. I’m looking up out the window again now and studying the different shades of green to be found in the grass, I never noticed how many different shades you can find there. Streaks of light green, and mossy green, and a deep damp sort of green, with patches of brown all intertwining. The light is fading away quickly and a soft evening feel in the air is developing.

I’m wearing…A blue knit dress with buttons running down to the waist accompanied by a little blue ruffling, a pair of black leggings and a silver grey cami with lace embroidering the top.

I’m listening to…for a long time all I could hear was the voice of my brother as he read some story to little ones but that is gone now, and all that I can hear is the skipping of my fingers across the keyboard and the soft piano music of a cd playing in the background. It is strangely quiet at the moment, quiet and peaceful. It’s funny the little noises that go unnoticed till you listen for them. When I pause what I’m doing to listen I can hear noises that you wouldn’t think of hearing, noises like a quiet little hum of the oven. Little noises that we are constantly hearing but that go unnoticed I suppose because of the more thought provoking noises that we are listening to most of the time.

I’m reading…well, I’ve been reading half of the day today, you know. Not just on one book either, oh no I have been reading two. One to myself, “Little Dorrit” and the other, a book to read out loud to my brothers (I have read it over half a dozen times myself of course) “The Scarlet Pimpernel.” I think I shall wait to talk about the actual aspects of the book when I am a little bit further into it but as far as the physical aspects of that little book I’m getting rather attached. Now, normally I don’t like hardback books, they are rather harder to get cozy with, but this one is such a cozy little bit. Nice and plump, with a nice manageable little red cover and gold printing for the title. Oh I do love nice plump books, the type you can just curl up in a corner comfortably to read. This one has a nice little red ribbon bookmark attached to it too which is always the nicest thing. I actually am not too terribly fond of real bookmarks, not from any good reason but because I have an awful habit of leaving them places and I can never find one when I need one. Which is my own fault of course but they are a bit of a nuisance to keep track of, so the little ribbon is just the thing to suit me and save my little books from being badly abused by being left open all over the place.

Around the house…well, of course describing the books like I did for the previous prompt makes me want to go hide with them somewhere.

One of my favorite things…I’m looking up at the lights hanging around the roof of the house in this room and of course because of that they are the only things I can think of to fill this prompt. Pretty Christmas lights glowing and lighting up the room cheerfully. They make me so happy.

I’m thinking…I’m thinking of nothing of real consequence. I’m thinking of the blog post I want to write, of the book I want to read, of the different stories I have resolved to continue. I’m thinking of a new name for a character that is beginning to form in my mind’s eye. I’m wondering when I shall see the lights of Daddy’s car pulling up the drive and home. I’m thinking about a drawing I started of a character in a fairytale story that I have yet to finish coloring.

Snowflakes and Poetry

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost



Whose woods these are I think I know.

His House is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

The only other sound's the sweep

and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

More soon...

Journaling Page

Outside my window…a cool and green and damp world. The pond ripples slightly in the breeze. The grass is shiny and slippery looking from rain. The sky is gray with brief partings into blue and then back to gray. I’m wishing for snow. Just one little bit of snow before springtime. Please?

I’m listening to…I know I say this a lot, but to the clatter of my fingers typing these words. There are many other sounds that I could go off rambling about, but I am rather fond of this one. I like listening to the click, click, clack. It brings to mind words, and black ink against white page, and paper and more words. Words and paper, is there anything better that one could be thinking about?

I’m wearing…I am feeling rather like someone from the early nineteen hundreds for whatever reason. Which brings to mind Samantha, the American Girl doll, or perhaps it is the other way around? That I am feeling like Samantha today which brings to mind her time period? I think it is the pants I am wearing at the moment, they are black pants that stretch out until there is enough material to make a skirt from them. They remind me of pantaloons that Samantha would wear if she went biking. I am also wearing a cream blouse with dark cream embroidery down the front and my hair is loose and wild at the moment.

I’m reading…Robin Hood by Howard Pyle, a book on the history of Robin Hood throughout the years (still obsessed with Robin Hood you know) and the biography on E. B. White.

I’m creating…I’m feeling in the mood to pick up knitting again. I started knitting a sweater a while back but I was feeling rather discouraged about it *cough* and so I just let it lie. I feel like starting on a new knit hat or something.

I’m thinking…I’m thinking that perhaps I should be thinking something very wise and worth thinking, however obviously I’m not. I’m thinking of instead, of what I’m thinking, which makes things quite confusing, but I’m in a confusing mood so don’t mind me.

I’m grateful for…naps. There is really nothing better than a nap. When you wake up from one the world is just so much better, and it makes everything just more so if you wake up with a little baby head curled next to your arm. I love my baby sister.

Around the house…I’m quite content sitting her typing this. There is nothing else I would rather be doing and I really don’t want to think of anything else that I should be doing. I should be writing this. It’s part of Monday schoolwork, so there we go. *grins*

From the kitchen…I’m considering getting up and going to make a cup of tea or hot chocolate in a moment or two. It’s rather that sort of day.

One of my favorite things…that happy feeling that you get for no reason in particular. Just feeling happy without rhyme nor reason. Well, there is a reason, but you haven’t considered it long enough to give an accurate reason, and are just content to be happy without searching for a reason.

A few plans for the week… waking up tomorrow more motivated for everything. Of course spend time reading, writing, drawing, what would a week be without those things? Dive into my schoolwork with motivation and drive. 

A picture thought I’m sharing…

Literary Tag

I’ve seen this on a few blogs now, and each time it never fails to amuse me so I wanted to try writing up one myself. Oh my goodness! So much fun! *starts laughing* really, I had so much fun with this, I may just have to do it again sometime!

First, pick 12 literary characters before you look at the questions.

Characters

1. Rose Briar

2. Mr. Thornton

3. Polly Milton

4. Robin Hood

5. Walter Blythe

6. Peter Pan

7. Jo March

8. Josie Pye

9. Fish (from the Fairytale novels)

10. Sam Gamgee

11. Ivanhoe

12. Gollum

Now, answer the questions by putting the correct characters instead of the numbers. 

1. Who would make a better college professor, 6( Peter Pan) or 11 (Ivanhoe)?

Oh dear me! Did I really just do that to those poor lads? They’d both be miserable. Of course I would have to say Ivanhoe as Peter Pan is, and will always remain, a boy. Not a college professor! Well, perhaps Ivanhoe would be quite content if he had a group of eager young students hanging on his every word, he always did strike me as the type of person who rather likes to have an audience. Perhaps some history? or better yet some ye olden government class. I could see him explaining some ancient method of war and political gain. *nods*

2. 12 (Gollum) sends 8 (Josie Pye) out on a mission. What is it? Does it succeed?

*giggles* Oh it is quite easy to imagine what the mission would be “bringses us the ringses” however such a mission would be most indubitably doomed to failure. Gollum as a leader would be doomed to failure in and of itself, but with Josie Pye as his minion? Prepare yourself for the thunder storm! Not only would I imagine she would turn him down flat, (disdainfully too, and with the worst insults you could imagine) but I rather have the idea that she would make a fist of her hand and punch poor Gollum in the nose for having the nerve to try and order her about!

3. What is, or what would be, 9 (Fish)’s favorite book?

I should know this, indeed I should. Rose and he discuss their favorite books enough that I should, but at the moment I can’t quite think. Something very learned, philosophical and lengthy. Though as it merely asks what book it could also be a book of poetry, and he likes the modern poet T. S. Eliot he did give Rose a copy after all! I am rather pleased that I have remembered the poet’s name! I only do, you know, because I glanced for a copy of one of his poetry books one day when I was reading “Waking Rose” at the library.

4. Would it make more sense for 2 (Mr. Thornton) to swear fealty to 6 (Peter Pan) or the other way around?



(*cough* Doesn't his look of sligh confusion just look perfect for this?)



*gasp of horror/wicked amusement* Oh my! What a state of things! They wouldn’t, they would die first I do believe, both of them. O.O

However, as I can in no way, in any twist of the imagination, picture Mr. Thornton swearing fealty to ANYONE (but Margret of course) I shall have to say Peter Pan. Though that is stretching my imagination to its very max, indeed it is! But Mr. Thornton? Never!

5. Number 5 (Walter Blythe) is looking for a roommate. Should s/he room with 9 (Fish) or 10 (Sam Gamgee)?

Oh Fish definitely. I imagine he and Walter would rather enjoy each other’s company and discussion quite a lot. Personality wise they are very different, and yet I think they would find any differencing in opinion rather intellectually stimulating and thought provoking. I can quite picture them going into long discussions about poetry, great authors, faith, life, death. Yes, they would get along rather splendidly I do believe. Though I don’t think they’d really understand the other very well.

6. 2 (Mr. Thornton), 7 (Jo March), and 12 (Gollum) are going out to dinner. Where are they going, and what do they discuss?

Well, I think Mr. Thornton, being the gentleman would first give a polite invitation to a party at his home, but would leave it up to the lady to decide. (Gollum has no choice in the matter he wants raw fish, pah!) Jo would I think rather enjoy the dinner party at Mr. Thornton’s but she would suprise everyone by marching out with the gentlemen after dinner and discussing the mills with them rather than simpering over embroidery with the ladies. She would quite enjoy that discussion I think! She would get quite involved about the Irish workers and the union and masters and men! Oh my! And I do think that Gollum would be kicked out, *wrinkles face up as she puzzles this out* Oh dear, I think Mrs. Thornton wouldn’t stand for Gollum in her house and she’d kick him out of her house herself!

7. 3 (Polly Milton) challenges 10 (Sam Gamgee) to a duel. Who wins?

THAT would never do at all! Polly is much too sweet ever to think of such a thing as taking up weaponry! But if it did happen, by the unlikeliest of chances I think that Sam would let her win. Dear Sam. He’d let her think she had won. What balderdash *falls into a fit of giggles*

8. If 1 (Rose Briar) stole 8 (Josie Pye)’s most precious possession, how would s/he get it back?

Now, what does Josie Pye prize above all else? She is very material but I think she is always rather moving from one thing to the next. If it was something, it would be something like a new ring or jewelry of some sort which she would flaunt in front of all. Rose would not steal such a thing because she wanted it, but perhaps if she was fired up enough and had gotten rather angry with Josie for all of her bragging perhaps to Blanche she might take it just to prove her point. Though it sounds most unlikely. Josie Pye would probably resort to very low ways of trying to get her possession back (name calling, hair pulling, ect. *nods*) but I think Rose would knock her down in a heartbeat without even having to catch her breath, so in the end if Josie Pye were ever to get her belonging back, it would be of Rose’s benevolent choice.

9. Suggest a story title in which 7 (Jo March) and 12 (Gollum) both attain what they want

“An Author and the Ring of the Deadly” I think Jo would rather appreciate the dramatic sound of that. I can see her waving her quill pen in the air excitedly. Gollum of course only cares for one word of that title. All others are of no consequence.

10. What kind of plot device would you have to use to get 1 (Rose Briar) and 4 (Robin Hood) to work together?

Oh that wouldn’t be hard at all! Rose would simply want to jump into Robin Hood’s story you know! She’d love to be one of the character’s of Sherwood Forest I just know she would! Adventure and Romance would be the plot devises of course that would bring those two together in some merry quest! I would rather like to read that story!

 11. If 7 (Jo March) visited you for the weekend, how would it go?

Oh I can’t even say how such a thought delights me! I would take her with me everywhere and we would have such fun! In the evening time we would write together and discuss our plots and most likely during the day we would go walking, and exploring places. I don’t even feel that I need to go into what we should do very much as it jumps right to the imagination, we should do “Jo” things of course. *laughs*

12. If you could command 3 (Polly Milton) to perform any service or task for you, what would it be?

Well, perhaps help me so a dress. Mostly because it would be such fun to sew a dress with Polly helping me along. *nods* and we should sew a dress from her time period, what could be better than that?

13. If 2 (Mr. Thornton) had to choose sides between 4 (Robin Hood) or 5 (Walter Blythe), what side would s/he choose?

Knowing Mr. Thornton he would choose between Robin Hood and Walter Blythe, not because they were Robin Hood or Walter Blythe but because he had decided which side was right and which one was wrong. So even though this is a rather boring answer- it would depend on what they were disagreeing about. Mr. Thornton I think would walk into the situation, look at it unbiased, decide who was right and who was wrong and defend his case with unalterable and dogged vehemence, ‘cause that’s how he is. I’m trying to think who he would be most likely to agree with just as far as what Robin Hood and Walter Blythe stand for and I really don’t know if he’d be very compatible in personality with either. They are all three just very different men, all good men, but how they arrive to the right choice is through very different reasoning I believe. Robin Hood is almost Mr. Thornton’s polar opposite actually, I’m sure Mr. Thornton would view Robin Hood as this foolhardy man making nothing better by his ill thought out actions; he would choose a very different course of action if he were trying to meet the same goal as Robin Hood. That is to say neither would be right or wrong but I think Robin Hood chooses to go first with his heart and then with his head and Mr. Thornton with his head then his heart. Robin Hood and Walter Blythe are both idealists but with a realist view as how to meet their ideals, whereas Mr. Thornton seems more of a realist with very high standards. You might say that I just said the three of them had the same character traits, and in a way I did, but the ordering makes a lot of difference. It makes a lot of difference at how they would view a situation and then how they would act upon it.

14. What might 10 (Sam Gamgee) shout out while charging into battle?

Well it would be quite easy to look up a quote from Lord of the Rings to fit this *laughs* but it would be much more interesting to make up my own, so that is what I shall do. It is hard to be original in this as we have all heard Sam’s battle cries for ourselves “for Rose, and Mr. Frodo” you know. Anyways… “Long live ‘taters and down with that slimy-long-fingered-creeper!”

15. If you had to choose a song to best describe 3 (Polly Milton), what would it be?

Something sweet, gentle and a bit shy…I want to say ‘Wallflower’ by Pricilla Ahn but I may just have that song on the brain right now, but it does sound like it would fit her.

16. 1 (Rose Briar), 6 (Peter Pan), and 12 (Gollum) are having dinner at a Restaurant. There is only one roll, and they all reach for it at the same time. Who gets it?

(What is it with Gollum having dinner with people?!) I would say Gollum would snatch it before anybody else had time to blink, gobble it down, choke on the nasty thing and go running to the kitchen to complain about the cooking and look for raw fish. Peter Pan would (if he didn’t take offense and go at Gollum with a sword) say they should imagine their meal and Rose would of course enjoy that splendidly. So everyone’s happy…except Gollum…

17. What would 5 (Walter Blythe) most likely be arrested for?

Since when has this country started arresting people like Walter Blythe? THIS. IS. AN. OUTRAGE! THESE PEOPLE SHALL HEAR FROM MY LAWYERS! FREE WALTER! *gets so caught up in the latter part of the question she refuses to answer the former*

18. What is 6 (Peter Pan)’s secret?

As I’ve heard tell the directions to Neverland are NOT as previously supposed SECOND star to the right, Peter Pan told a fib…it is in all actuality THIRD star to the right. Don’t ask how I know this.

19. If 11 (Ivanhoe) and 9 (Fish) were racing to a destination, who would get there first?

Oh my! I would rather like to be a bystander at such a race! I’d cheer for Fish of course! Ivanhoe would make a valiant attempt but (most conveniently…muhaha) his old wound would act up at just that moment, Rowena would faint, Rebecca wouldn’t be there to save him as he chose Rowena, general drama and chaos would enact and in that chaos Fish would win the race. (Isn’t it lovely being the author? *grins*)

20. If you had to walk home through a bad neighborhood late at night, who would you be more comfortable walking with, 7 (Jo March) or 8 (Josie Pye)?

Is this even a question? Yes, Josie Pye would surely repel any unseemly character with her delightful (is that sarcasm you ask?)  personality, but walking alone late at night, any time, with Josie Pye? What have I done to deserve such punishment? Dearest Jo, save me!

21. 1 (Rose Briar) and 9 (Fish) reluctantly team up to save the world from the threat posed by 4 (Robin Hood)'s sinister secret organization. 11 (Ivanhoe) volunteers to help them, but it is later discovered that s/he is actually a spy for 4 (Robin Hood). Meanwhile, 4 (Robin Hood) has kidnapped 12 (Gollum) in an attempt to force their surrender. Following the wise advice of 5 (Walter Blythe), they seek out 3 (Polly Milton), who gives them what they need to complete their quest. What title would you give this fiction?

Horrors of the Silver Waistcoat

Perfect Balderdash

Once upon a time, there was a silver waistcoat with embroidered fish covering its entirety. It is soon discovered however that Robin Hood created this sliver waistcoat with thread made from real silver coins. Rose and Fish, knowing of Robin Hood’s desire to give this valuable item of clothing to some poor person in need, realize that the sight of the horrifying embroidered fish (Ivanhoe is no seamstress) would most likely send the poor popper into a spasm, such horrors must be put to an end! Ivanhoe volunteers to help, but he foolishly offers this help by sewing up the tear in Rose’s hem. It is obvious to the most unknowledgeable bystander when Ivanhoe embroiders fish on her hem also that he is part of Robin Hood’s gang. Robin Hood has just kidnapped Gollum, who made himself conveniently an easy target for such a kidnapping (as he was rather fascinated by the embroidered fishes everywhere). Rose and Fish find themselves at a loss at how to proceed in eliminating those deadly fish so they consult Walter Blythe who tells them (in an epic poetry form of course) that they must seek the help of the great seamstress. Polly Milton hereby makes her entrance and with her nimble scissors she cuts out Ivanhoe’s (unbecoming) handwork and replaces it with pretty designs. Robin Hood gives away this expensive and now pretty prize, Polly teaches Ivanhoe how to sew properly, Gollum gets all the embroidery floss that was previously fish on the fabric and everyone lives happily ever after. THE END.

I think this is now adequate proof that I am completely off my rocker. Thank you. *bows*

Journaling Page

I am thinking…

With a click, click, click, I write out several different sentences with which I could begin, and with a solid smack to the backspace key I erase them all. I’m finding it rather difficult to know where to begin today. With so many thoughts bouncing around how can I settle down and choose just one? At the moment, you see, I’m thinking many little thoughts, and there is not one which I can pick out from the many as of more importance or more weight.

I’m thinking of how very strange it is to write out two thousand and twelve rather than two thousand and eleven. I’m thinking of my rather peculiar dislike of inserting numbers into my nice orderly paragraphs formed of words (thus why I chose to write it out). I’m thinking of the two other blog posts I am currently devising. I’m thinking of my new year’s resolutions, which I shall include at the end of this journaling page. I’m thinking about this coming year and what it shall hold. I have a little day to day calendar in front of me, the type that you rip off a page for each day, and I’m thinking rather sentimentally about all of the things that will happen as each page is ripped away.

I’m also thinking (rather sentimentally and wistfully this time) of all of last year’s pages that we have posted up around our house as New Year’s decorations. Moving forward and letting go. It makes me happy and sad at the same time. Thinking of the days we can never return to always makes me slightly sad. I know that the future days will be a lovely and by the end of next year I will be in just such a mood about them, but I can’t help looking back at the past year and not quite wanting to let it go. There were so many reasons to love the dear old year, there will be so many reasons to love the dear new year also but just yet we aren’t quite friends yet. I’m still feeling rather unfriendly towards the New Year as its coming has made the old year, with which I was such friends, have to say goodbye. Give me a few days and I will love the New Year just as well, but for the moment I am still saying goodbye. 

Goodbye to the younger half of sixteen. Goodbye to my trip to WYD, to the joy and pain and growth of that time. Goodbye to many happy little moments, talking into the wee hours of the morning with a friend with my Mama peaking her head around the door and telling me to look at my clock and see what the hour was! Goodbye to those days but not to what we took from them and not from the memories which they bring to mind. Goodbye to our old selves, I think that’s what makes me feel the most wistful. We won’t ever be the same. I won’t be the same. I will never feel all the same things that I felt being sixteen in the old year. My sister is growing bigger and changing from a baby to a big girl at a rate that leaves me astonished. My fourteen year old brother Marcus is changing so quickly, his hands and feet are bigger than mine now and it won’t be long before he’s towering above me. My little brothers are changing so quickly too, they will never be nine years old and five again. 

It’s not that I want things to stay the same forever. That would be awful. Never changing, never growing, never becoming anything but what I am now, it’s only that knowledge that I can never go back that makes me sad.

I’ve never done well at saying goodbye, I remember how I used to cry whenever we had friends over and at the end of the day or two they would have to leave. I love saying hello, hello to this brand new year! What happiness and sorrow will this new year bring? What new ideas, new writing, new drawings, new blog posts, what new things are to be created over this next year? How will I change and grow? What beautiful things are to be found in those unmarked days on my calendar? It reminds me of starting a new journal, looking through the empty pages and thinking of all the words and sentences that could be written therein. So I must say a fond goodbye to this last year, with a warm hug, a kiss of my hand, and many lovely memories, and say hello with equal warmness to the new year with all its openings for new and grand adventures.

Goodbye old year! Hello new year!

Outside my window…blue grey is the sky, clouds of a soft darker color. Clouds, they drift across the sky so quickly, sent blowing by the wind, the wind which gently sends the trees swaying and the water of the pond rippling.

I’m listening to…the same wind that is blowing outside my window I can hear faintly through the glass. All will be still and then suddenly I’ll hear it pushing against the window. I can also hear the soft background piano music we have playing in the living room, my brothers noisily eating their lunch, a door closing, my fingers typing, and someone’s footsteps walking past this room.

I’m wearing…I always rather liked this prompt as I always feel like I get to describe myself as a character in a story. Would that I could talk of soft brown eyes or long rippling hair flowing down from my alabaster brow (all right, I couldn’t help myself with the last bit, could I? *grins*) Instead I must describe a rather undignified personage with blond hair which I have decided to let curl rather than try to tame. I’m wearing my new pair of dark brown Ugg boots (they were a Christmas present and I am still so, so excited about them! My other pair was worn through, you could stick your fingers right into the middle of the souls! That is what three years of constant wearing will do to a shoe, you know!) With my boots I’m wearing a pair of jeans, and a peasant style blouse with a ruffled color and cherry blossoms covering it. What I need is a rather large scarf to cover my head and a basket full of eggs so that I can prance around singing a happy little song at the top of my lungs. Much to my enjoyment, and to the displeasure of my siblings who will in an instant tell me to pipe down. Perhaps I shall sing very, very quietly…

I’m reading…I am currently reading a biography on E. B. White (I shall perhaps write up something more on that at a later date. I will only say for the present that I would have loved to have been able to meet him.) and Robin Hood by Howard Pyle, which I picked up at the library yesterday. I was rather excited, since I’m in love with all things Robin Hood at the moment. Again, I shall write up more soon. The other book that I am waiting to be reading is Lorna Doone. It is at the present at the library where they are mending it (*sad face* why don’t people take better care of books? *gentle sigh*) but it has my name on it so as soon as they are done fixing it up it will be mine to read! I’m so excited! *bounces* I recently watched the film and I can’t wait to read the book!

I’m creating…There is a story that is currently in the making on a different word document on this computer! Isn’t it so much more fun writing something when you are writing it with someone else? Oh goodness, I do love writing! Especially with a friend!

From the kitchen…this morning I woke up and made oatmeal bread while watching an episode of Robin Hood (I’m obsessed with the BBC Robin Hood. I am afraid that this obsession will soon be showing itself here there and everywhere before I can contain myself.) anyways, the smell of fresh warm bread is still filling the air. Is there any better smell to be coming from the kitchen? I think not.

One of my favorite things…letter writing. I love writing long and wordy letters and then I love peering in my mailbox every day when I know that I will perhaps get a letter sometime soon. I have a letter to write very soon by the way, I must sit down and write it. *nods*

Around the house…well, what I would really, really like to be doing around my little home this morning is reading, tucked away under the warm quilts of my bed or situated in my comfy chair, is there anything better that you could be doing this blustery and cold winter day?

My New Year’s Resolutions…

I have been thinking about this all while writing the above. In the New Year I want to be kinder, to be more patient. I want to look for the good in everyone even if in our interactions they aren’t always as pleasant as they could be. I want to be more dedicated with my studies and less easily distracted, beginning with getting up at a realistic and yet earlier time in the morning. I want to be open to growth and change.

I want to pass my Driver’s test and get my Driver’s license.

I would like to go to Australia.

I am going to try and keep my room in a tidier state.

And lastly I’m resolving to pick up my instruments and practice more.

A picture thought I’m sharing… I found this picture when I was browsing for something (I can’t remember just what at the moment, but it was something) and I really liked it so I thought I would share.