tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21145139546223859032011-11-07T01:23:12.434-05:00The Realms of a Fantastical MindE.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-90582674795613134442011-11-06T05:00:00.000-05:002011-11-06T16:24:16.847-05:002011-11-06T16:24:16.847-05:00The Old Oak and the Young Apple Tree<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">A short story inspired by old times at the YMCA camp and the loss of all those trees.</span></div>
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The wind whistled with the scent of her blossoms. The old oak always admired the colors and
scents of the lovely apple tree growing up the hill off the dirt road.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">He
stood and observed from a distance, for more human generations than he cared to
count.</span> </span>
Watching as the people and animals passed his way. There was a scar of a heart with initials
carved on his trunk. The scar came with the memories of childhood sweet hearts
who spent their youth climbing his bows. Now the couple was wizened with age
and came to him every few years to celebrate their times as children together.<o:p></o:p><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jpwa97dBByg/Tp1v8bbSWKI/AAAAAAAAALA/4f5BKipKcFk/s1600/large-oak-tree1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jpwa97dBByg/Tp1v8bbSWKI/AAAAAAAAALA/4f5BKipKcFk/s320/large-oak-tree1.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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The younger generations spent their time under the apple
tree. She would shower them with petals
in the mid spring mornings or shelter them in the hot summer sun. The old oak was still taller than her and
held more limbs to climb and linger under, but she was in an ideal place for
the young ones to look upon the land. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He watched and admired her as her dress of petals began to
fall. The fullness of the summer leaves would spread wide in the summers light. He watched as her visitors came to use her as
cover for their picnics and moments of love.
He watched as her limbs became heavy with the growing of her apples and
more came to see her, to pick of her fruit and thank her for the bounty. As
late summer turned to Autumn, he watched as her leaves turned into yellow and
gold. They would cascade in a shower of golden leaves around her, covering the
hill in her beauty. Then winter's grasp took
over, and they would sleep the cold away, waiting to awaken to the spring.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Years passed as the old oak watched her. He began to feel pain within his roots and
trunk, but he could not move like the visitors of his limbs. He could not walk away like the couples that
came to the apple tree. He spent several
years feeling the pain within him, as it climbed slowly into his limbs. He called for help, but no one could hear the
screams of a tree. His leaves began to
brown, earlier and earlier each year.
Limbs would fall for no reason but that the wind blew slightly too
hard. He could no longer hold himself
together.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then the day came when the grandchildren of the couple that
carved their initials in his trunk, arrived.
They were full grown now, and carrying the tools of man, the tools of
destruction. There was no escape from
what he knew would be his end. At that
moment, he heard the cry of a young apple tree.
It wasn't the scream of pain that he had been making for several years
now. It was the cry of heart break. He called out to her, his tired voice echoing
hers in a crescendo of sound too high for any human to hear. The animals around called out their voices
joined in the mourning music of the trees as the machine of the men roared to
life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The oak tree's scream of heart break became the cry of pain
once more as all else ceased to exist, but the pain that only man could bring. Near the end, he could hear the apple tree
calling out to him. Her sweet song was
echoed by the scent of her fruit. She
called to him and seemed to reach for him as the breeze passed through her
limbs. He called back to her once then
fell to the ground, and then there was nothing.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Thanks for reading, part of <a href="http://greenwoman.wordpress.com/category/the-glamorous-life-of-a-writer/first-sunday-short-fiction/">FSSF </a> by Greenwoman </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-9058267479561313444?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-27284300238449746452011-10-13T09:23:00.000-04:002011-10-13T09:33:19.651-04:002011-10-13T09:33:19.651-04:00Cold Feet?I am getting married tomorrow and was waiting for the cold feet to kick in. Still a no show. They say it happens to everyone, I'm starting to wonder why? What exactly is cold feet? A worry of never being able to walk away? A thought of never being able to touch another as you touch your mate? A wonder if you will love that person as you love them now? Wait, stop, hold the phone. Okay, none of this makes any sense. If you love the person enough to say yes when the ring was offered, or in the case of guys, love the girl enough to buy the ring. What would make you think that you were going to get a chance with anyone else when you asked or said yes. You pretty much sealed the deal then, now its just to make it public and legal. So what is the issue? If you love some one enough to pledge your undying love to them, why would you waiver? <br />
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So why does 'everyone' get cold feet? Why would they have doubts? I was told once that, to have even a shadow of a doubt meant that it was not to be. Why drag yourself through something if you have the doubt? Why say yes to the ring, or ask?<br />
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Okay so I guess the next part is why am I marrying him? Well, I could say the simple answer of "Because I love him." But I could live with him forever and not marry. Kinda crazy to think marriage is all for love. It is a deep part of it, but it's more than that. It's almost unexplainable, silly that I would write a blog on it and not explain, but that's how it is. Okay, I'll try. <br />
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Being with him is as natural as breathing to me. Hugging and kissing him good morning, holding his hand, snuggling with him as we watch our favorite shows. He is a part of me, a living breathing extension of myself. To marry him is not just the next step of us being together, we've been together for over 5 years. It's the natural step. I want to pledge myself to him, to show the world that there are no doubts. He is the one, my life mate, my love, my perfect match.<br />
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I feel that what I share with my soon-to-be husband is not just love, but that amazing bond that only a few are able to experience. We are the rare find, the match within the billions. We are the diamond in the rough. The needle in the haystack. We are the happily ever after and after and after.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-2728430023844974645?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-18479309702586576572011-10-05T06:00:00.000-04:002011-10-05T06:00:01.281-04:002011-10-05T06:00:01.281-04:00Wedding Vow- writers blockOk so writing my own vows is crazy simple yet crazy hard. I know the poet should be able to come up with something smooth and able to tug the heart strings. Yeah I guess I just don't have it in me sometimes. So I looked up some links for <a href="http://www.catalogs.com/info/weddings-invitations/funny-wedding-vows.html">Funny Wedding vows</a> Yeah they were cute, but it didn't fit.<br />
Then I looked up the more <a href="http://www.myweddingvows.com/traditional-wedding-vows">traditional vows</a>. Still was not quite what I was going for.<br />
So I thought about how he makes me feel, how I enjoy our time. The little things we do for each other. Then as I slept last night the thoughts brought themselves together.<br />
We are the closest of friends, talking of our wants, needs, what bugs us. I have never had to lie to him, never had to keep a secret. He knew from day one how I was, who I was, and what I wanted. I also learned much from him on our first date. A coffee date. Our lives have been growing together, it is more then the passion and love for each other. It is what we learn from each other. How we balance each other out, and how we work together. So now I have found my vows. I have found what I truly want to promise to him on October 14th.<br />
So instead of looking for something that would move me to tears, something I will do anyway. I have found the full honest truth and will hold it like a shining light before him as I promise my world to join with his.<br />
Life is good.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-1847930970258657657?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-86463881638540624352011-10-02T11:26:00.000-04:002011-10-02T11:29:45.063-04:002011-10-02T11:29:45.063-04:00Rantings of too much to do.The tension is building up. I find that I try to distract myself from what I should be doing. If I should be writing or editing, I'm reading. If I should be critiquing, I'm editing my own work. If I should be looking up vow ideas, I'm playing on FB or checking my e-mail. If I should be working on wedding things, I'm doing anything but.<br />
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Yes, I've been putting off everything by doing everything else. I guess when I really need to do something, my lazybones says no. Sigh... and so I need to find a way to force myself to get focused. I know there is much to be done in many aspects of my life. I want to keep editing my book, so as to be ready to start really writing next month on the sequel. I want to keep up with the crits, some of my critique partners have addictive stories and I hate leaving a good story left unfinished, either in reading or writing one. I need to work on my vows, I barely have a clue on how to start. Yes the writer who gets writers block on wedding vows, how poetically ironic. Then there is the loose ends for the wedding. Ah yes there is so much to be done and I don't want to drop any of it for the other. So I end up a scattered mess of I want, I want, I want. Oh well. There is only one thing truly stopping me from being organized and getting everything done that I need doing, and that... is me.<br />
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So my fabulous organizational skills are being put to the test. Its easy to organize, but it's so hard staying that way. Perhaps I should focus on one thing at a time, but from all the work experience I've had in the past 16 years, I've never seen that work out quite well. Organize while multitasking is more my style anyway, I just need the will to do it. Hm, yes and where will I find that will... in my next e-mail or crit or um... oops doing it again. OK OK I'm getting back to figuring out what I need to do right now. Hope everyone has a good week. I'll be pulling my hair out soon, and wishing I could just snap a finger and poof... done. It's nice living in a fantasy world. lol<br />
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Oh look... pretty... :) Oh wait, no that's not what I should be doing right now. <div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-8646388163854062435?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-13942461476768519022011-09-25T08:13:00.002-04:002011-09-25T15:08:39.608-04:002011-09-25T15:08:39.608-04:00The Fearless Two-year-oldsYesterday was quite the stressful experience. Everyone who has kids, knows the dangers of the two year old. They are fearless beasts who will do things that will make your heart stop. They will climb heights that were not meant to be climbed. They will get into things that were securely put away, and they will go places that will put them in danger. This is the world of the two-year-old. To explore and to drive their parents into a frenzy.<br />
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My children have all passed that stage, thank the goddess. However, my niece has been in that stage since she could climb, and being so much like my sister, she probably wont be out of that stage until her teens. She is an adorable peanut who would win the heart of even the hardest heart.<br />
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Yesterday she pulled off her trademarked dash at my house. (It was a pet cemetery rerun in the making) I live in a fairly busy city, right on the main road. She ran straight down the sidewalk to the corner. She would have kept going, right into the road, if I had not caught up in time. I grabbed her hoodie and since I was in full run, I couldn't stop. I ended up tackling her to the ground before the road and tumbled over her to land right in the lane of traffic. A cop was parked across the street and watched the whole thing. I don't know how we avoided the cars, how I landed, or how I was able to stop the baby just in time. I guess it doesn't really matter how. What matters is, she is fine with just a scrape on her face. I only have a bruised wrist and heel. No one got hit, no one was injured in any severe way and we were both safe and sound at the end. <br />
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My youngest ended up seeing the entire thing from the window. Her only reaction when everything was said and done was. "You're my mom, don't fall in the road, you could get hurt." She's 4. Yeah, tear jerker. She didn't leave my side till it was bed time, 2 hours later.<br />
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It is not the first time that I was worried about a child running into the road, a few years back, my own son did it. He was stopped right before a truck went past. Thankfully he never did that again. Common sense and the fear of danger is taught, it's not instinct. Children could teach any adult that, but I wonder how you get the child to learn it. Hopefully not with mortal danger every time.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-1394246147676851902?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-67089167193046878862011-09-19T22:38:00.000-04:002011-09-19T22:38:11.222-04:002011-09-19T22:38:11.222-04:00Back in the saddle again!I've been trying to get my crap together. Organize what I'm doing when and trying to get things running smoothly. And what happens but I find myself snuggled up to my kobo reading series after series of my favorite authors. Nothing I wanted to get done, gets done and my poor book is again neglected like the house plant that hasn't been watered for weeks. It sits with it's pages drooping over the edge of the table, practically begging to get picked up and revised fully into the 5th draft. 'Please' it whispers in the dark of night as I lay sleeping, 'please remember I'm here.' so after 2 weeks of my horrible behavior of reading, in which I've been poking and prodding at other writers work, only because I've done so much to my own book that I can't help but see what the holes are, I opened my critiquing folder and had a crack at a 1st chap of a MS that I should have opened the day I got it. I'm not even saying that out of duty, oh man it was good, I got a bit queezy during a torture scene but it was good. So in critiquing such a well set up scene I have a quickening as it were, write a bit on this, dab a bit here and there. And tomorrow I will be back in business and my baby will be watered with cuts and adds and all other sorts of editing mayhem. Back into the saddle again, as it were. Oh and have I mentioned how much I love <a href="http://agentqueryconnect.com/">AQC</a>. :D inspiration at its finest with the people to match. :D Thanks guys!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-6708916719304687886?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-11000051210887417862011-09-16T08:14:00.000-04:002011-09-16T08:14:36.696-04:002011-09-16T08:14:36.696-04:00My day, and my poor lonely bookSo how busy can one person get that doesn't have a full time job, other then raising kids? I can tell you, very busy! I have to take care of the kids, like making sure my 12 yo has everything for school, first and foremost! Then there is the cleaning of the never-ending dishes, the floors need to be swept and mopped. The bathroom... yeah that stuff that needs to be done, the kids, making sure they are doing their chores and keeping their space clean. Cooking and then cleaning that never-ending dish pile again. Sending my son off to kindergarten. Then 2 hours of me time, my youngest having nap-time. Pick up my son, make sure my eldest has her homework done and making sure my son puts his school things away. Then there is wedding planning and making sure I have everything done that I wanted to do that day, usually done when its my me time. So my poor writing plans get pushed off to the wayside till the next day, then the next then the next. I know when everything is more ordered and my last name changes for the first and last time I will be able to get back to my dream. I just hate that feeling that it's sitting there, almost done 5th draft half written and waiting for it's creator to come and take care of it. My poor poor book. :( I will be back, I promise.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-1100005121088741786?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-66251601085734383932011-09-02T10:25:00.001-04:002011-09-02T10:28:00.302-04:002011-09-02T10:28:00.302-04:00Critiquing Am I too Picky?So today I have decided that my Friday mornings will be focused on critiquing fellow writers in their works (and hopefully continuing on into the weekend). The problem I have with that is not the ones I critique from <a href="http://agentqueryconnect.com/">AQC</a> but the ones from <a href="http://critique.org/">Critters Writers Workshop</a>. Perhaps it is because I do not talk or chat with the ones from the workshop. I do not know them in any way. I have no problems with the site itself or with the people but some of the work that is offered up for review is so raw it is as if they posted their rough drafts without trying to polish and enhance their work. Some have written stories with not enough research, so it seems beyond reason of suspended belief and others are just choppy and need to learn how to flow more. It may be that those were the very reasons for them posting on Critters but some how I would think that they would have done more research on what works better, what flows better and the like before showing their work to more then 3000 possible critters. I know I may be complaining a lot on this. Perhaps it's just me. I will not post mine until I feel it is agent worthy, or at the very least close to it, maybe a draft away. I guess I'm being too critical on the matter. However, when I am privilaged enough to critique one of the MS of the AQC group, I find them much more polished, and only small tweaks are needed. There is more pleasure in the critique, and so I give more input. <br />
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I wonder if I should just withdraw from Critters, but I feel that perhaps, I will learn more as a picky critique partner there then I would at AQC, only because easy is not always better. <br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-6625160108573438393?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-52222460717747115572011-08-25T12:35:00.001-04:002011-08-25T12:37:00.727-04:002011-08-25T12:37:00.727-04:00To write, or to kick myself in the butt- and write.I have this feeling. Like I could write so much more, add so much more to the story. Yet, as soon as I open the document for the story, all I want to do is something else. A feeling of not wanting to change what is there. Every story needs it's tweaks and turns. What once was part of the beginning of the story, getting hacked out or completely changed to another part. I personally took out 30 pages of writing completely. I may add bits and pieces later of what once was back story but most of that will remain on the editing floor, as it were.<br />
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So how do I get focused enough to add or subtract from my creation. It's hard for all writers, so it's nothing new. My hesitation causes a form of writers block, so I need to just walk away. The longer I stay away, the more the information I read in the meantime fills my head with other ideas, more to add or take out. Not a bad thing, but today it seems that all of the info that has gathered from a week of hiatus has caused a higher writers block. The only thing I can do now is just to hunker down and watch my baby transform once again. I'm sure it wont be for the last time. <br />
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So if you have any ideas on what you do for writers block, or to get over that hurtle of hesitation, feel free to comment. I would love your input.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-5222246071774711557?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-57853734925911168122011-08-18T10:44:00.000-04:002011-08-18T10:44:46.883-04:002011-08-18T10:44:46.883-04:00Tolkien must have been on to something.I had a conversation with my family last night. One of those after dinner random talks as one of us was on facebook. We were talking about how no one seems to know how to create even the most simple sentence without adding lol or some thing of the like. We also discussed the effects things like facebook twitter and texting has on the knowledge of words and grammar. Even with built in spell check on most computers, the words never seemed spelled correctly and the grammar is always off. I admit I am one of the afflicted of such mistakes. <br />
The new way of speaking through text could be considered similar to Tolkien's elfish language. Just sound out the words and you'll know what I mean.<br />
roflmao, lol, adip, urapita, fitb and so on. I'm sure you could come up with much more then myself, since I am no master of txtng. <br />
It all makes me wonder how long it will be before the new words of our language are common place and words such as augment, cumbersome, and facetious are a thing of the past. It will be a shame if that ever were to happen.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-5785373492591116812?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-82406761226313927742011-08-17T07:34:00.000-04:002011-08-17T07:34:46.300-04:002011-08-17T07:34:46.300-04:00Characters come aliveThere was a phrase that I saw while looking at my twitter the other day. It stuck with me, through dreams and waking moments. I can't remember who said it, but it was so true its scary.<br />
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'Characters are not created, they are beings waiting to be discovered.' <br />
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To anyone who writes, even if it's short stories, or just random thoughts, you find your characters seem to have a mind of their own. I know this to be true in my own writing. My MC will have a goal and be headed in that direction when something distracts her and I find myself being dragged along for the ride. I didn't plan what happens, I don't anticipate the direction change. It just happens and I find myself caught into my own story as if I am watching it from the outside and not writing it. The writing itself is scary, with all the grammar mistakes and sloppy sentences. It is all due to not noticing that the story is being written, its more like it is being played out and I'm taking notes. The only problem with that is trying to edit it so that others will see what I saw in the end. It's fun, regardless of the work put into it.<br />
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Randomly I found this website with <a href="http://hollylisle.com/money-from-nothing-the-economic-value-of-writing-original-fiction/?awt_l=Etzql&awt_m=IgCBudMvGCoXgP">Hollie Lisle</a> describing the positive impact us writers have on the economy. No matter what type of writer we are. So enjoy the article and keep writing.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-8240676122631392774?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-59548844859966729382011-08-12T09:39:00.000-04:002011-08-12T09:39:01.829-04:002011-08-12T09:39:01.829-04:00I'm so very White and Nerdy!Time for some more of my <a href="http://youtu.be/N9qYF9DZPdw">geekness</a> to come out. One of my friends is holding a contest on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=139453619476246">who is the biggest geek</a> and so I entered, and now I'm realizing how much I truly am a geek. I love it! lol<br />
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So I dug into the recesses of my mind for all the things that mark me as a<a href="http://www.adamheine.com/2011/05/so-you-want-to-be-geek.html"> geek</a>. To be honest, there isn't much that doesn't mark me as one. lol I guess that should be lame or bad or whatever, but I like it. Loving anime, manga, Star Trek and Star Wars. What's not to like. ok well, I'm sure there is lots not to like if your not into it. But it's totally me. <br />
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It's all about what is fun for you, and this is what's fun for me. Yay fun. lol<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cQhK6UlODI4/TkUsnqnGe0I/AAAAAAAAAHs/tFA27Q0kAl0/s1600/dnd-party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cQhK6UlODI4/TkUsnqnGe0I/AAAAAAAAAHs/tFA27Q0kAl0/s320/dnd-party.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-5954884485996672938?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-31783398129187456092011-08-11T08:04:00.002-04:002011-08-11T08:45:54.044-04:002011-08-11T08:45:54.044-04:00Inspired by a picture<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, today I was supposed to vent, but I really don't have anything to complain about. Strange but true, so I guess I'll just let my imagination play. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someone I have met Through AQC,<a href="http://darkewhispers.blogspot.com/"> Darke Conteur</a> has a brilliant idea on her blog of posting a picture and has the reader comment <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">a inspired prose. Well, since I thought it was brilliant I have decided to copy this for the day, you know what they say copying is the highest form of flattery. Darke is awesome so I hope she takes it that way too :D</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tVfCAXzaC6o/TkPC9jRHR_I/AAAAAAAAAHo/VCeLKLC9pqM/s1600/Arcadia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tVfCAXzaC6o/TkPC9jRHR_I/AAAAAAAAAHo/VCeLKLC9pqM/s320/Arcadia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">We found the path with the old bridge. It had been so long since we had seen it, leading the way to the adventure of what was now unknown. Sprites and nymphs danced about calling to us.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18px;">"Step across." The woodland faye called out. "Join us."</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-3178339812918745609?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-66352619488156301162011-08-09T15:09:00.001-04:002011-08-09T15:11:45.845-04:002011-08-09T15:11:45.845-04:00Scorpio Sage Tuesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KT2MmkFS4n4/TkGGaHI7TTI/AAAAAAAAAHU/QD2BVdbe2GU/s1600/woman-silhouette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KT2MmkFS4n4/TkGGaHI7TTI/AAAAAAAAAHU/QD2BVdbe2GU/s320/woman-silhouette.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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Question:<br />
Why is it so hard when a person puts a relationship on hold. Why do I end up looking like the bad guy.<br />
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Answer:<br />
For argument sake we are going to make the person putting it on hold as John and the person waiting as Jill.<br />
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Ok this can be a loaded question with a loaded answer. However, putting a relationship on hold is never a good idea, it feels right because John thinks that this way he's not rejecting Jill, and shows that he still loves and cares for her. However, Jill sees it as that she is just put on the wayside, rejected and hanging on a line. It makes it so that any hope for a renewal of the relationship will lead to Jill thinking that John will place it on hold and leave her hurting again and again. Causing mistrust and a lack of full commitment.<br />
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Let's focus on the REAL reason for the hold. John may make excuses but the nitty-gritty is that he does not have a full connection to Jill. Without the full and true love to bind them, the connection is not fully there. He may love Jill, but not enough. True love would make it so that no matter what happens, if its distance, or a stressful job, or even lack of money, if it was true, he would trust that she would always be there to support him. Even if they had to be separated for months or years, they would still hang on.<br />
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I have seen this with the military. A couple friend of mine, when he is off doing his duty for the country, she waits patiently for him to come home. She misses him when he's gone, but the reunion is sweet and true. <br />
When it comes to true love, distance, money, stressful problems, none of that matters, as long as they are together. They work it out together. A true team. <br />
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So putting your relationship on hold, never a good idea.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-6635261948815630116?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-44275207449990804022011-08-07T07:42:00.000-04:002011-08-07T07:42:44.335-04:002011-08-07T07:42:44.335-04:00D&D oh it's so awesome to me.Ever imagine that your somewhere else, and that others are with you adding their thoughts to yours to create a different world. I'm not talking about writing a book, or even reading one. I'm talking about D&D, yes my geek is showing. lol<br />
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Roll some dice and bang, something happens. Well, it's not quite that simple. First you need a good DM. (dungeon master- the guy or gal that sets up the adventure and leads you through the adventure throwing bad guys in your way). Then you act out what you would say and tell everyone what you are doing, it's not just between you and the DM Each player has a part in the action and role playing. Taking everyone into another world, the world the DM creates, not just a dungeon as the name implies but forests and towns. You have to play out the situation, with the limits of what you character can and can not do. Something you would find in any fantasy book. Weis and Hickman two well known fantasy authors got their start from the game and ended up writing the DragonLance. Its great for inspiration, or just to get away from reality for a little while. Geeky, perhaps, but when you have an imagination that wants to explode, its a great outlet. Also, we end up laughing and having a great time the whole way through, even if my character ends up dying in the end.<br />
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Here is an example of what happened last night. <br />
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In the middle of the dark forest I hear the moans of creatures unseen. My companions, a vampire lord and a lion-man stay close as we greet a strange elf with dark skin and white hair tied back. He seems as weary of us as we are of him. My vampire companion speaks and the elf is , not by any spell or trick by my pale friend, but by the understanding that all that creeps in the night, a vampire might actually be courteous to him.<br />
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"Thank you for the assistance, we would surely have been in grave trouble had you not helped." His french accent flowing with regal presence, Serral gave a nod of respect. His red eyes and fangs flashing in the moonlight.<br />
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The lion-man Lerrion stood back in cautious wait to see how things would play out. The dark elf seemed too curious to turn us away. He spoke of the dangers that we could hear creeping all around us. Eventually he led us to his hovel where magical wards were put up to keep out all undead. That would include Serral.<br />
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I was offered the bed for the night as the elf needed to do some research on the ward he had placed upon his home. He wanted to protect the vampire as we did. Perhaps because he had not met anyone else like him. I could not be sure. So he did his research to look for a way that a vampire could pass through.<br />
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I offered my blade to Serral, as I've done before. I said, "I will stand with you, if you need. My blade is yours."<br />
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"I will be fine, Nimue`." He gestured for me to stay within the hovel as he began his meditation. I layed upon the bed and looked over to were Lerrion was sitting by the door watching over our vampire companion. Sleep overtook me and a peaceful dreamless night gave me the rest I was so weary for.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-4427520744999080402?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-91562959018908001922011-08-05T08:44:00.001-04:002011-08-05T09:04:32.171-04:002011-08-05T09:04:32.171-04:00Freebe Friday giveaways and contestsA fellow writer I know from AQC has set up a contest for writers to act out a scene from the novel of the winner, I think this is brilliant, now please every one enter, I'd love to see who wins this. Also other contests that Tracy has found I've placed below. Proves to be a great fun Friday. :)<br />
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By: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #323232; font-family: Vollkorn; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/14900562574693952219">Tracy N. Jorgensen</a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"><a href="http://tracynjorgensen.blogspot.com/2011/08/friday-freebies-5-in-which-i-have-my.html?spref=bl">Belief Suspenders: Friday Freebies 5: In which, I have my own contest...</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;">: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #323232; font-family: Vollkorn; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">What can you win? We'll film a scene from your novel and post in on the blog.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #323232; font-family: Vollkorn; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"></span><br />
<div><a href="http://www.camarshall.com/2011/08/claire-lazebniks-into-past-win-copy-of.html" style="color: #98cb00; text-decoration: none;">Epic Fail</a> : Win a modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice. </div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="http://annerileybooks.com/2011/07/summer-bookfest-giveaway-week-8-arc-of-the-poisoned-house-the-hambledown-dream-born-to-be-a-dragon/comment-page-1/#comment-11220" style="color: #98cb00; text-decoration: none;">3 books </a>: More for your time investment. Can't beat that, right?</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="http://free-editing-for-writers.blogspot.com/2011/08/august-giveaway.html" style="color: #98cb00; text-decoration: none;">Pick Your Prize</a> : As always, the lovely Rebecca Hamilton has fabulous prizes for you (and free editing).</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="http://blackbirdinmywindow.blogspot.com/2011/08/summer-writing-contest.html" style="color: #98cb00; text-decoration: none;">500 words contest</a> : Gotta love chance for books or agent feedback!</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="http://yatopia.blogspot.com/2011/08/huge-micro-synopsis-contest-with-agent.html" style="color: #98cb00; text-decoration: none;">Mini-Synopsis Contest</a> : Not a pitch, but a short synopsis. Interesting. Very interesting. Will you enter? Can you manage it?</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-9156295901890800192?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-46093238326406754662011-08-04T09:27:00.001-04:002011-08-04T09:33:42.118-04:002011-08-04T09:33:42.118-04:00Wait you think what?The thing that has been getting to me the most lately is writers who don't do the research. If you live from the south, and you want to write about winter in the North East, come to me, I grew up here. I lived in MA for half my life, the other half has been in RI. So I know the area. The point is, please find some one who lives there and ask them. Don't just guess. The person I'm writing about had a good story going but didn't do the research, it ruined it dramatically for me. Mass loves their snow plows! See look snow plow, no snow mobile.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ake0HJJXGBQ/TjqeuoVyhdI/AAAAAAAAAG8/TIhMDGffQPE/s1600/snow+plow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ake0HJJXGBQ/TjqeuoVyhdI/AAAAAAAAAG8/TIhMDGffQPE/s320/snow+plow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
My responses were, wait what? The entire time, I could't focus on the plot, or on the characters because I was too baffled by ice storm= pretty white fluffy snow the next day=a snow mobile in Salem MA in December. (Wait, what?) It was a great story, if I could get past the holes. However, I barely got through the three chapters that were sent to me. I feel bad about it, cause I was supposed to help critique it as part of the <a href="http://critique.org/">workshop</a> I'm in, but if I can't say anything nice I have to walk away, I would have dragged this person through the dredges. We have to be tactful in the workshop, no brutal honesty, because the author will think your just getting personal and wont listen to the advise. <br />
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The moral of the story is research research research! So hope you enjoyed my post, I'm off to do some research. Has anyone gone spelunking before?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nR9dew_r7D4/TjqfoX0bN-I/AAAAAAAAAHA/FnSHzJifTv4/s1600/CaveEntrance.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nR9dew_r7D4/TjqfoX0bN-I/AAAAAAAAAHA/FnSHzJifTv4/s320/CaveEntrance.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-4609323832640675466?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-33119609996626208652011-08-02T10:38:00.000-04:002011-08-02T10:38:36.708-04:002011-08-02T10:38:36.708-04:00My new planSo I was thinking about this blog of mine and how I should go about using it. It occurred to me. How about I do a rant one day, play with writing another day and then some geek-ness here and there and of course I will add some of my 2 cents on topics from my friends, since I end up being the mom and giving them advice and what not when they need it. So this is my vent/me being me blog, and I'm going to make the best of it.<br />
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This is what I'm going to do, Sunday is going to be Geek day, I play D&D on Saturday nights and I always love to talk about that and L.A.R.P.ing oh how I miss the days of Live Action Role Playing games.<br />
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Monday will be a day to reflect, so randomness will be placed here. Everyone needs a bit of random in their lives, it keeps things interesting.<br />
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Tuesday, Sage Scorpio at your service. I'll just pick some random problem that I know my friends can relate to and give what advice I can. Its what I do for them anyway, so why not share the wealth, I will not include names or specifics, this is not a gossip paper from some lame mag wanting to sell issues.<br />
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Wednesday, I'm probably going to go random this day, why not, it's hump day, so it will either be a writers exercise, or something that's just stuck in my head waiting to break out. :D<br />
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Thursday, I will be venting because some times a get something that just drives me mad, like reading a book on Salem MA saying that we have bad snow storms in Dec and we use snow mobiles to get around. Really? I'll get into that on Thursday, oh man that bugged me. I grew up in MA.<br />
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Friday and Saturday, up for whatever I want to talk about. :D<br />
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So that's the plan, I wonder if I'll stick to it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-3311960999662620865?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-83198475912419298332011-07-31T13:50:00.000-04:002011-07-31T13:50:30.050-04:002011-07-31T13:50:30.050-04:00FamilyThe touch of a child's hand against mine, the hug around the waist when I least expect it. This is only a couple small things of what it is to be a mother. The completion to my life that my children give has no scope of comparison. I look into their eyes and see complete trust, love and acceptance. <br />
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Her blonde curls bounce as she bounds off with her brother. They chase each other through the rooms. Their giggles echoing through the house the the joy of the game. My oldest looks annoyed as her preteen mind finds such things more of an irritation then fun. I can't help but smile as I remember how she was once so full of energy and laughter, and yet I am a little saddened that she has grown away from the joys of childhood. Her fun is now on the computer or video games, though I can't fault her, her addiction of manga. I'm the one who got her into anime after all.<br />
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I hear a scream of frustration in the back ground to see the devilish brown eyes of my son, I know he just did something to his sister. She lopes out of the room, sad noises escaping her lips. Her blue eyes rimmed with red and unshed tears. "Mommy, him have my toy." She squeaks reaching up for me to hold her. Her four year old arms barely reaching around my shoulders when I lift her.<br />
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My son stands defiantly against her accusations. "I want it, I want to use it." <br />
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The usual banter continues and I have to solve the problem with sharing or taking the toy away all together. Some times I get frustrated by this, other times, it just makes me smile. I adore that my children get along so well, they don't see each other all the time due to certain circumstances, they love each other regardless. Though my preteen doesn't like to show it. She would taunt or yell at my son, just to feel the authority of it. The gap in age has something to do with it. My son being 5 and my eldest being 12. <br />
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Then my future husband will wake for the morning and join us, the atmosphere changes, the kids become quieter yet still play. My preteen will then either latch herself to my side or hide in her room, depending on if I let her play on the computer. My love is the disciplinary of the house, he has never mistreated the children but they respect him and will do what he says, much more actively then if I were to say it. Is it because I am too soft on them? No I think it is because they see the different roles, I am the care taker, the provider, and he is the structure and male figure. We work well together and so the children are more apt to listen to the disciplinary and be more demanding of the provider. <br />
<br />
This is my family, we work together as a whole. My love and I are a team, raising the children the best we can, loving each other and the kids with all our hearts. This is my home, my happiness is first created here, then spread to the other parts of my life. A happy home life is a happy life, regardless of money or work problems, I have a place I am welcome and accepted, loved and respected. This, above all, is what I've always wanted.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-8319847591241929833?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-6268016666164020012011-07-30T08:08:00.002-04:002011-07-30T08:39:43.473-04:002011-07-30T08:39:43.473-04:00Fire Fly's Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IWSTOlZuz34/TjP1grzfrEI/AAAAAAAAACI/KrJN23Irhn4/s1600/358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IWSTOlZuz34/TjP1grzfrEI/AAAAAAAAACI/KrJN23Irhn4/s320/358.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I saw the oddest thing by the corner of my eye, a flash of fire fly light just a few feet away from me. The odd part it was broad daylight. I thought they only came out at night. So I went to investigate. A swirl of light told me I was headed for the right direction in the bushes. However, the light did not stay that luminescent green, it changed colors from pink to purple to red, it was quite astonishing.<br />
<br />
I picked through the rough branches of the bush, searching slowly and quietly till it flashed again. The little glow moved so fast I had to refocus my search entirely. I slowed down, the soft leaves brushing against my arms as I held on to the branches, pushing them away slower and slower.<br />
<br />
I had thought that perhaps it was gone, for I looked so closely to each branch in turn, searching for an insect but could not find one. Sighing I let the branches fall back into place as they were, only to see that light, now blue, flash again. Taken aback that I had not seen it when I was in the brush, yet there it was flashing in my face, taunting me in a way, I became more determined.<br />
<br />
I walked around the bush to the other side, searching for a better angle. Then I saw it, the oddest thing I had ever seen. A tiny little dragon, the size of my of my pewter figurines in the house, and on its back was a little person, so much smaller then the dragon with little shimmery wings that changed color. <br />
<br />
I had been so absorbed with it that I had not noticed my daughter creep next to me and gaze in as well. I went to see if I could grab the little fantasy made real but my daughter grabbed my hand and looked at me with those deep brown eyes. The fairy riding the dragon flew away, the color of early spring leaves. I blinked and they were gone.<br />
<br />
I looked down at my preteen with hundreds of questions swirling through my mind. She just smiled at me. "Mom, some things are better left undiscovered. You taught me that."<br />
<br />
"I suppose I did." I said, gazing off into the direction I watched the myth leave my yard. We smiled at each other and went back into the house, hand in hand with our little secret in our hearts.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-626801666616402001?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-24238916795155330902011-07-29T08:59:00.000-04:002011-07-29T08:59:57.725-04:002011-07-29T08:59:57.725-04:00Close your eyes, random writing"Close your eyes." He said. <br />
<br />
I smiled at him, he was always being so random. His brown eyes twinkled in the sun as his blond hair reflected the golden rays. I closed my eyes, allowing the image of him hover behind my eyelids. <br />
<br />
"Now, listen to everything around you." He said, I went to speak but he placed his warm finger on my lips. "No, just listen."<br />
<br />
I opened my senses to everything around me, we were outside and the park was full of sound today. I could hear the strange squawking of the squirrels in the trees. The birds flapped away as a squeaky wheel sped past us, their screech of protest echoing back from each bird as they flew overhead. There was a low murmur from the couple that sat a few benches over from us. There was a swishing of the trees before a slight breeze hit my face. In the distance I could hear the rumble of cars on the main street. We were far enough away that I never really noticed the sound, but now I listened for it. <br />
<br />
I opened my eyes and looked at his face, his smile was breathtaking. He sat next to me with his arm wrapped around my shoulders, we had been doing this for years and it would be our 25th anniversary tomorrow and he always had some strange thing planned.<br />
<br />
"So why did I have to listen?" I asked teasingly.<br />
<br />
"Because, sweeting, I need to make sure you can take in every amazing sound around you, we are going to a symphony tomorrow and I want to make sure your prepared for it." He laughed.<br />
<br />
My Brian, always the silly one. I envisioned the sounds and was a peace. He always had good surprises.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-2423891679515533090?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-11648546076276136852011-07-29T08:21:00.000-04:002011-07-29T08:21:41.275-04:002011-07-29T08:21:41.275-04:00Writing Exercise, My Pet<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">So I got a pet this weekend, but my</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><a class="MIVA_AdLink frame" href="http://nemune.livejournal.com/#" id="MIVA_LINK_1_0_2" name="MIVA_LINK_1_0_2" style="background-color: transparent !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(29, 124, 254) !important; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-bottom-width: 1px !important; color: rgb(29, 124, 254) !important; cursor: pointer !important; display: inline !important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; padding-bottom: 1px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-transform: none;" target="_self">cats</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">won’t go near it. Can I help it, if he can breathe fire? It's a cute baby dragon about the size of my hand. He has these shimmery scales that change color almost like a mood ring, which is great because I always know when to warm him up. It's so cute when he turns blue. I just put him on my chest and pull out my marshmallows. He has this tiny flame that roasts them nicely and then he begins to turn an orange-red, warming up from the heat of my chest and his own fire.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">I know your wondering where I got him. It was the strangest thing, the kids and I were walking home from the park and out drops an egg the size of my palm. It landed right in front of us, yet there were no cracks on it. I originally thought that the egg was from some nest, my mind refused to believe that it would come from anywhere else. But there were no trees in that part of the street. So I figure it must come from one of the buildings we passed, perhaps someone had it and didn't want it. I guess I will never know. We took it home and my eldest asked to keep it in her room. Since the egg seemed more like a rock each time I held it, getting heavier and heavier, so strange, dismissing the thought, I let her keep it there.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">The next day I went in her room to wake her and found a small blue lizard curled up on her</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><a class="MIVA_AdLink highYield" href="http://nemune.livejournal.com/#" id="MIVA_LINK_2_0_0" name="MIVA_LINK_2_0_0" style="background-color: transparent !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(255, 79, 0) !important; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-bottom-width: 1px !important; color: rgb(255, 79, 0) !important; cursor: pointer !important; display: inline !important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; padding-bottom: 1px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-transform: none;" target="_blank">pillow</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">. She had fallen off the bed and was outstretched on the</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><a class="MIVA_AdLink" href="http://nemune.livejournal.com/#" id="MIVA_LINK_3_0_1" name="MIVA_LINK_3_0_1" style="background-color: transparent !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(255, 79, 0) !important; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-bottom-width: 1px !important; color: rgb(255, 79, 0) !important; cursor: pointer !important; display: inline !important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; padding-bottom: 1px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-transform: none;" target="_blank">floor</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">. I carefully stepped over her to slowly reach for the creature. It lifted its head and looked at me and then it meowed. The cats came running and hopped up onto the bed. By that time my daughter had woken up and was silently sitting on the floor, watching intently. At first the cats licked the lizard-like thing and purred, until one of them licked its nose and it sneezed. A small spark came out. They bolted out of the room leaving the little creature shaking. I don't know what compelled me, but I picked it up to comfort it. Immediately it snuggled against me and the blue of its scales started turning color.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">My eldest said we should name it Draco and since I can't find anything online that tells me a different story there is only one thing I could guess that it is. So little Draco lives with us now, still tiny, still lighting off small sparks, yet he hasn't set anything but my marshmallow on fire. I guess I have to count myself lucky.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">We found out he loves fish and chicken, he doesn't care much for red meats, but hay that means I get to keep my steaks. We took him outside just to see what he would do, he loves the leaves of the rose bush and the ivy leaves. It's strange how his sharp teeth disappear when he eats vegetation.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">We set up the small</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><a class="MIVA_AdLink frame" href="http://nemune.livejournal.com/#" id="MIVA_LINK_4_0_4" name="MIVA_LINK_4_0_4" style="background-color: transparent !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(29, 124, 254) !important; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-bottom-width: 1px !important; color: rgb(29, 124, 254) !important; cursor: pointer !important; display: inline !important; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; padding-bottom: 1px !important; text-decoration: underline !important; text-transform: none;" target="_self">cat carrier</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">we have, the one the cats grew out of, for him to sleep in. He is very much like a cat in many ways, loves meat, sleeps often, meows, and he even scuttles around the house chasing the stray bugs that gets in at night when we go in or out. He seems to like it inside, snuggled up against one of us. He stays away from the little ones; he's smart enough to know they can hurt him.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">I love to watch him drink from his bowl. He climbs into the mixing bowl that the water is in, then once he is completely submerged we can see steam start to rise. As the water quickly sinks in the bowl it starts to boil, and once it gets to Draco he pops up like a geyser and there is no water left. We love to watch it, and I think he knows because he seems to only do it when we are in eye shot.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Yesterday my little Draco sprouted wings, it was the most amazing thing, they seemed to just pop out of his scales. He's been trying to fly all day today. He will climb up on the couch and jump, he's got gliding down but he starts to flap too late. I think he can understand me cause when I made a suggestion about flapping in the first place, he took it. So I've been encouraging him more. I can't wait to show the kids when they come home.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: georgia, verdana, arial; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">He has become the most amazing pet, and I can't wait to watch him grow up, everyone I tell thinks I got an iguana, I guess I just don't feel like correcting them. My little dragon, the perfect pet, I just wish the cats would lighten up.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-1164854607627613685?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2114513954622385903.post-23171885764873912832011-07-28T18:19:00.000-04:002011-07-28T18:19:32.538-04:002011-07-28T18:19:32.538-04:00Writing Exercise, two people walk out of a building.They walked out of the building, hand in hand. It had been so long since they had seen each other and the noises of the Boston streets welcomed them as they stepped off the stoop. She looked up at him and smiled, gazing into his deep blue eyes. She studied his face that wasn't young anymore, but still had the charms from high school. He smiled in return and tugged her toward down town. <br />
<br />
They headed to the dunkin` donuts shop at the edge of the street. She had told him how her days in Washington state had been empty without the taste of eastern coffee. On a whim he felt she needed to relive that part of her past. Starbucks for him had always been a bit lacking in a certain taste and far too expensive. He loved the idea of not having to break the bank to enjoy a dunk-a-chino, his sweet tooth begged for it even now and he laughed at the idea. She squeezed his hand and they felt like teenagers again in the streets of Gardner MA where things had been simple and peaceful.<br />
<br />
She had come to Boston to visit a cousin and had found him online. They had agreed to see each other, to catch up. Neither of them was expecting to feel the love they had both felt so long ago. It just seemed right to be together, even just to walk down the street of an unfamiliar city for both of them.<br />
<br />
Memories flashed through her mind of the times when they had climbed the big chair on Elm Street by the elementary school. She wondered if it was still there and if the kids still sat on it pretending to be Jack and the Bean Stalk sitting in the giants chair as she had. Her brown hair wafted into her eyes and she brushed it back with a flip.<br />
<br />
He laughed, "I love it when you do that." He was almost unable to contain the buried feelings of 20 years. It had been too long and they both had separate lives now. He wondered what would happen now, with her only here for a week before her vacation was up and she would leave his life again. He brought her closer to him, wrapping his arm around her waist as they walked, she pushed herself against his chest as they reached the shop and entered.<br />
<br />
It had been a nice visit but they both knew it would end, and they would be on the opposite ends of the country again. He would again sit in his office at the Gardner News and she would be off doing her work for the Seattle Times. This was just a social visit, and they both wished it could be so much more. They had their coffee and enjoyed what time they had left, each moment burned into their memories with deeper longing and love that would never be forgotten.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2114513954622385903-2317188576487391283?l=nemune.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>E.M. LaBontehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08333612996629616323noreply@blogger.com0