july 2008 pg2

Archive – July 20081 commentTime for walkabout
Posted Jul-17-08 03:26:47 PDT Updated Jul-17-08 04:16:11 PDT
I haven’t mentioned Walking Buddy much lately. He’s okay I guess. His brother is on death watch. We’re told he could die at any moment. They’ve arranged a memorial service for him so that folks can come. It’s strange because he isn’t dead. They won’t go to Paris. No travel. I dread this for Walking Buddy. This is his brother. It reminds him of his own mortality.
I’ve turned comments off again. No, I don’t want to talk about it. A very nice man who got alot of crup handed to him in his life will disappear. Poof. I believe in God because of this. I can’t bear to think that this man will just go Poof. No more. So until proven different I’m gonna believe in heaven. It’s just so wrong that he should have met his wife and had so little time with her. Even 6 months would have been better than this. I just hoped. What could it hurt for him to live longer? Not in pain either. He’d have happy. She’d have happy. More happy in the world. What would be wrong with this?
Everyone doesn’t have to leave.
Poor WB. His brother was there even if he hasn’t been. If he dies it’s going to be so hard on WB. He’ll grieve in private same as when Pup’s brother died. I’ll try to get him to talk about it. He won’t. A part of him will die too.

WB is like the river. On the surface it looks still and quiet until something like this happens and you get to see that the river is running at a pretty fast clip. Even that doesn’t prepare you for what is hidden below the surface. I can’t help him. Best I can do is not antagonize the situation.

We just go to our separate corners of the world. Hold our breaths and try not to hurt each others feelings.

Note: I always talk about how this is a writer’s blog. Talk about how fact and fiction live here. How if you don’t know? Ask. You don’t have to ask this time. I’ll tell you. This is very real. Too real.

The time between night and day is here. Like the moment between life and what happens after life. A land somewhere between the Moon and the Sun.

Directions for telling someone that you love them.

Say their name first.

Say I love you.

That way there’s no confussion as to whom you’re talking about.

Otherwise, it’s a might dicey.

That’s what I learned from WB’s brother.

Only don’t wait so long as they did.

No Hula. Not WB. Fate screwed up then and now Fate is about to screw up again.

Stupid.

Incredibly Stupid.

Pure Kudzu LeagueComment|Report this post
0 commentsFirst post on a blog ever.
Posted Jul-16-08 09:03:11 PDT Updated Jul-18-08 19:53:05 PDT

Wait a minute…that’s not right…. It’s cold…. My brain was froze…it was 2AM with BioChem and NO social life …a good idea just lousy timing…time with “the guy” and “that other guy” and then “that guy” … while having fun with COBOL and mainframes… Good grades. Good at it…but…broke up with “that guy”… sigh bad idea.. needed change…vaca in NYC meet future bff, move to big city and in with bff roommate…good idea till “that guy” returns…Good idea…then first son dies…”that guy” now “busy guy”… The dogs ate it.. no wait that was law school… I flunked out of law school…(sorry mom)….went to art school..for a while…talent as sculptor…who knew… I dropped out of that….(really sorry mom but it was great!!!)….had a good excuse thought became I became a parent..(okay for that I am not going to apologize I mean I made you a grandmother and there is all that lovely karmic parenting payback)..became an at-home slacker(yeah right)……time moves… I move several times…..I become parent of teenager… teenager learns to drive….(…sorry mom NOW I get it)….become mom of melodramatic, future slacker teenaged draaaaammmaaaaah king…(parent karma curse)…..this isn’t misery enough…. oh no…. I pick up camera and decide to become photographer….gallery owner says I’m crap….. decide writing might be good fun even with that pesky grammar/spelling problem….but something is missing.. … oh yeah the 12 dogs…and the blog….oh and I really am a writer –for real…that about gets us up to date….

welcome to

12 dogs and a blog………….

—————-Dear WFMU

I know. This blog and my rather screwed up past doesn’t exactly spell wonderkind hire. It does make for an understanding person and friend. Just don’t expect IvyLeague.

I’m more the Kudzu League.

Like I said

Welcome to

12 dogs and a Blog

Dedicated Slacker ever since the night that I found out that sex @ 2AM was WAAAy the heck better than studing BioChem @2AM. Woof!

(sigh not really. I was a nerd. true thing.)

Playlist. Well yeah. For 12 dogs?

Natasha Bedingfield * Pocket Full of Sunshine

U+UR Hand * Pink

How Far We’ve Come * Matchbox20

Complicated * Avril Lavigne

Closer * Ne-Yo

***********alert

Latest on WB and his brother Time for walkabout

Oh and mom and dad. Thank you very much for putting me to work in your store. I can not tell you how handy the things that I’ve learned working for you at “Kitchen Table University” have been. Thanks, Ann

For those reading. My moma said that if she was going to give me money, I might as well earn it. From age 13 I worked for my folks in their store. “Kitchen Table University” is what I call this experience. They built their business from nothing. When the retired, they’d built a profitable business that they ran over 20 years. Side by side my mom, a elementary school teacher and my father worked. These people. They flew airplanes, sailed sail boats (my father built it. over 40 ft of steel), they raised their kids and they built this business. Year after year my mother trained people who she encouraged to go to college and business. It wasn’t easy.

Thank you momma and dad you both taught me alot.

Thank you daddy. Thank you for teaching me how to read.

I know that we don’t get along but I do love you both.

Ann
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2 commentsKudzu League
Posted Jul-16-08 09:00:55 PDT Updated Jul-19-08 11:01:30 PDTWell at least I didn’t belong to the Poison Ivy League…

Ah… Kudzu.

Blogland friend might could use a internet hug and a joke or story. Or maybe a puzzle.

Cryptoquote:

K sy fzkmf eza s csgx .

K fz eza S csgx cwvm yr zilkykby kb jvkmf

izyyvgvn jr yr ivbbkykbn. K sy jilkykblkt

lwsl, ke K csgx esbl vmzqlw,

lwv zilkykblkt yv ckgg zql istv lwv ivbbkykblkt yv.

Sl gvsbl X wziv bz.

Wsmmsw Yqaiwr *27 Siag 08

The above isn’t gibberish or some ancient language. It’s a word puzzle called a cryptoquote.

Good luck.

No I didn’t include instructions. This is to help you escape the difficult of the world. If that means going to find our what a cryptoquote puzzle is then great. Learning a new type of puzzle format takes the kind of mental focus that definately distracts. I’m trying to distract you.

Hope it works.

Ann

(hint:27 Siag 08 is a date. That’s a generous clue.)

Let me know if you need the answer.

Another hint?

The quote is by someone who is very near and dear to my heart.

Reply to comment.

LOL Thanks. I think. Hmmm Beautiful? Me? No.

It’s nice that you’d think that. I once talked to a fella for a long time. He reacted to the me inside. What I identify as “me”. When he saw the me outside he was so disappointed. The great thing and the horrible thing about the internet is that we project so much of our own wants and desires and imagination onto the person on the other end of the computer terminal or in the other case the phone line. It’s sobering. When the fella told me that I didn’t sound like I looked. I don’t really know how to put my reaction into words. It reminded me of the story of two people strike up an internet relationship and then arrange to meet. Before they meet she would have described his sensitive nature and his beautiful soul. She made him her “famous” brownies like she said she would. And she waited for him to show up. LOL with her red carnation. Anyway. In walks a fella in his sweater and bucks. She’s a twiter. But he walks by not saying a word. Then in walks a biker fella. Harley tat. Black leather vest. Looked like a stevadore down at the docks. She caught her breath. Not in a happy way. He walked up and in a voice she recognized he said hello. She’d never have given him the time of day. But being polite, she toughed it out. In my hopeful world they used the dumb luck that let them know each other on the inside and get past all the superficial. Experience has taught me different. Now I’d be surprised at the person who did get past the superficial. If I was beautiful or “butt ugly” it’s who I am inside that is supposed to count. Unfortunately? I’ve never come across that person who actually can get past the facade.

Thanks for the compliment though.

As for the quote. It’s a quote by a character I created. Hannah Murphy. I based her on someone I knew when I was younger. A force of nature. But her words are mine. That’s why I said she was near and dear. The person who is having a bad day and could need a hug is someone that writes a blog here. We email each other. She, I assume she is a she, anyway she told me that her mother had Alzheimers and didn’t want to eat. I felt bad for her situation and reposted a cryptoquote that I wrote. Hoping that it would get her mind off her troubles a bit. I don’t know her though.

Link to Hannah Murphy Check yer mail. Hannah in Blogland

Someone who writes a blog here told me that they came to the internet for a bit of fun. They didn’t take it seriously. They told me that people come to the internet for all kinds of reasons. I should tell you my reason to be here. For me it’s a quite place to write. Funny. Writing is meant to be read. Meant to be shared. Yet if left to my own devices I’d write quietly.

Alone.

I’m glad that you comment. Who are you? The regular you. The everyday. What do you do? What’s your favorite book. What do you see when you open your eyes in the morning? What part of the world do live in? What’s your favorite day? What’s something you’ve done that you’re proud of?

Me? I’m a mom and a writer. My everyday? I live out in the middle of nowhere. I write. Really do spend time with Walking Buddy and Pup. I thought at one point that I might be a sculptor. When I was really young I went to college and got a science degree. Worked in a family business for a long time. Went and flunked out of law school. Also went to art school but left there to raise a son. When my parents retired and sold their business so did I. Spent alot of time raising my son who really is beautiful on the outside and inside. I taught him to read. That’s my proud accomplishment. The first thing he ever really read independently was an article about sharks in Diving magazine. Which along with the last time I’d been on the Gulf Coast are my favorite days. I taught him to read the same way that Ronald Reagan’s mom taught him. We tandem read. I’d been reading to him since he was very very young. By two and 1/2 he had the first paragraph of Winnie the Pooh memorized he’d heard it so often. That’s my favorite book by the way. Well one of them, I don’t really have a favorite book. It’s like music or children. I don’t have a favorite. It’s all good.

I live in the southern US. Never lived anywhere else. It colors the way I look at the world. Well that and my science degree. I’d have a tough time believing in a cult. I have my head in the clouds about alot of things. But being southern keeps my feet on the ground. It also makes me “normal”. It makes me human.

And it gives me my accent which isn’t really southern but more country. That’s one of the things that folks notice. I’ve traveled alot in my life. People notice the accent and will talk to me because of it. Oh I love to chat with people. I’m always wondering who they are. If you and I met I’d know all about you in an hour. My dad says I get it honest from my mom. Actually I get it from work and from being by nuture very shy and by nature very curious. Well that and because, unlike what I write, in real life I’m very uncomfortable talking about myself. Very uncomfortable with compliments. I’d rather talk about you than me anyday.

That’s about it. No wait a sec…

The death of my first son, the birth and life of my second son, two close friends (one who I should have married), being southern, my parents, my pups, my time living on the coast, working in my families business at a very young age, my maternal grandparents, my Great Aunt and my belief in God have in turns made me stand on my feet and brought me to my knees. Shaped who I am. I didn’t figure this out until I was a grown woman. Like a cryptoquote, my life was complicated. Took along time to figure out that maybe I wasn’t the screw up folks wanted me to be.

So, who are you?

Email if you want. If you don’t know how to do this let me know in comments and I’ll talk you through it. I hope you will. I’d love to chat

New comment

Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart” ~ kahlil gibran

Response.

LOL I keep telling myself that it’s about the beautiful inside. I really do. But well, you know life it tells me different. I wrote about this. The girl sitting in the chair. I’ll have to find the post and link it here. BRB

Haven’t found it yet.

It goes something like this.

There was a girl sitting in a chair. Dressed in her very best. Hair done. Legs crossed at ankles the way “properladies” do. She’d read that and knew it must be true.

In her lap, a beautifully wrapped package.

She smiled her very best smile.

And waited.

She’s waiting still.

LOL No idiots, “…the box…” isn’t a veiled reference to her virginity. It’s her. The gift of her joy and spirit and friendship and love. She’s looking for “home”.

Get yer mind outta the gutter ya’ ejits.

Oh and I changed it slightly to fit. The other versions were toooooooo werdy. This is better. Like Kook’s poems. Spare and to the point.

Next stop? Dear WFMU

Comment|Report this post
0 commentsDear WFMU
Posted Jul-15-08 09:00:44 PDT Updated Jul-17-08 01:24:36 PDTAre you real? Cause well if you could use a writer? I might, well, it’s just possible…I hate to use the word “job”

But Clouds keep scrolling by…and well I might could use one.

So I was looking at his soul patch and thinking…

(Sorry got distracted.)

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0 commentsSo I was looking at his soul patch and thinking…
Posted Jul-15-08 07:55:10 PDT Updated Jul-19-08 10:32:56 PDTOMG. Otara’sMillionairesClub. LOL. How Bizzzarree.

I love that song…

“SoVegas?OoohhhBaby.Everytime I look.It’smakingme…Hot. Howbizzare.Playlist?OMC(Otara’s Millionaires Club) – How Bizarre

Sigh.I like it when a fella does different.I think I’ll sit back and relax.Enjoy the ride.ROFGiggling.Hey I got a couple of 20’s burning a hole in my pocket,it’s been alllooong dryspell here and I’m more than looking forward to… Vegas Baby.

So I was looking at his soul patch and thinking. “I wonder what his lower lip tastes like”

I know. It’s just soooo wrong but…

I couldn’t even concentrate on anything else.

“how bizzare…”

I thought it was lack of sleep.

Then I got sleep.

And I woke up singing Sugarland “All I Want to do…” Man what is it about you. I’m calling you Kryptonite. Around you I am soooo easy. I’m not kidding.

Yeah…She answered back. Politics? Writing? Religion? It’s all… dunno

Me? Right this second?

It’s about that lip and the joy of watching someone do their thing.

Keep it? Shave it? Does it make you happy? Not for any other reason. It’s different. Sorry I’m so shallow but that image of you and you’re lower lip. What does it …? I am so, so, shallow. I’m just glad to see you. I’ll let the rest of the world try to tell you what to do. I’m just gonna sit back and enjoy the show. That man in YOUR mirror? I like him.

Glad you’re you.

Heeeyy baaybee…

Playlist?

Well?

Calling All Angels (Train)

All I Want To Do? Sugarland. Love on the Inside.

But then?

There’s that Little Voice I keep hearing. Sara Bareilles LoveSong.

And

That Lenny Kravitz song comes up

It Ain’t Over till It’s Over.

Yeah I think I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.Weigh my options and enjoy the sun.

(keep reading if you just came from the Emmy2008 post. You link isn’t here yet. Otherwise, go ponder

The Why in the road.

How Bizzare.

Comments off. Hey there’s always eBay email

One more? Okay

Mexico James Taylor “gets a long letter sends back a post card. time are

drowzy.

Call All Angels… mmmmmmmmmmmmmm

After all Love is a Battlefield

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

And now the not so fine print. Any even remote resemblance to anyone living or dead that this post has with anyone is due more to the Collective Unconscious than anything else. It’s a big world folks and we aren’t near as unique as we all narcissitically like to think.

I could be talking about my Uncle Ralph, if I HAD an Uncle Ralph, for heaven’s sake.

On second thought. No. Never. Ever if I had or didn’t have would it be about an Uncle Ralph

This blog is fun and I would faint from surprise if folks read it.

Just so you’ll know Gentle Reader. Not all comments are about ya’ll.

Hey sometimes it’s just cause

***************’

To whom it concerns

Wow. Who knew? All this fuss over a mustache. Really? You’re kidding. Well. My votes with the fella with the brand new mustache. It really is. Shave it or keep it it’s his face. Some people, they think they own a person and can tell them what to do. Never struck me as someone who’d be comfortable with that. And hey how come it was all about his mind NOW it’s about facial hair. Shallow? Much? All he did was grow hair on his face. Folks it doesn’t mean he lost IQ points.Never good to hurt someone’s feelings. But again it’s his face. Got some sleep. Head in the clouds. Woke up. Showered. Now back to sleep. Again head in the clouds. Down comforter. Like sleeping on a cloud. Lovely. Peaceful.

Hoo boy. Still fussing? Ya’ll do know there’s a election year. And economic problems. And… how bizzzaaaarrreee. Take a deep breath. Good. Now hug someone you know.

Take care

The mustache day three

What the heck? You shaved it?

So now the long national nightmare is over? World hunger is no longer a problem? The looming banking crisis and impending recession/inflation period is no longer a problem? Little bunnies and sparkly fairy kingdoms rule the planet? No. But. All those folks? The ones who got their panties in a bunch because someone dared grow facial hair can rest easy tonight. I’d get all worked up about it except it’s not really my or anyone elses business. Just the business of the person who owns the face. If I’m going to get worked up about something it would be. I dunno. The coming election? The economy? The war in Iraq?

Yep.

Personally, I wouldn’t want anyone else to think that they ran my life. Especially not complete strangers who thought they knew me when they didn’t.

I might want to grow a mustache.

Told ya” I mean

Just when you feel like poop. Along comes an Emmy rainbow.

Authors note: If I were picking a song to listen to while reading/writing this post? If I had to pick a song for the event of this week (mustache gate LOL)? It would be Omc’s song How Bizarre. “…Every time I look around….OOoooh baybee…” LOL Go read the lyrics and then listen to the song. Think about it. Author Ann

Comment|Report this post
0 commentsThe Why in the road.
Posted Jul-15-08 02:28:56 PDT Updated Jul-15-08 09:48:41 PDTThe three “Whys” will give you folks lots to read. Meanwhile I’m going to be working on Muffbro’s story. AND I’m going to be getting some sleep. Advice? Read this entire post before you take any of the links. There’s a lot to read.

Happy Reading.

Best regards, Ann

And now? The three reasons why.

Why

? Because I just got to take a minute here

Why?

Because you can put your head in the Clouds and take a look around. But only if you want to talk theology/philosophy.

Why?

? Because I’m working on Muffbro’s adventure story. Needed a quick way to get there. Oh! and because I thought that When you finally exhale you might want a little mystery and adventure to figure out.

LOL. This is a writer’s journal. Fact and fiction mix on this blog all the time. If you’re not sure what’s what? It’s a good idea if you ask.

It is also good to know we haven’t lost one of our oldest readers. Glad that you haven’t lost your sense of humor. Here at 12 dogs we intend to be funny. If you aren’t laughing?

We worry.

So let us know how you’re doing by making a comment or sending an email.

Or I know. Write something.

Writers write Gentle Reader.

That’s how you know they’re writers. πŸ˜€

Ann

And

Why?

Because some once told me they loved me and then two seconds later tried to strangle me.

Then told me I crazy.

How bizzare.

Really.

Sometimes?

Playlist

Love is a Battlefield Pat Benatar

If Only The Good Die Young? Billy Joel

And I’m going on 105?

Well you figure it out.

(it’s a writer’s journal. work with me people)

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0 commentsI just got to take a minute here
Posted Jul-15-08 00:18:46 PDT Updated Jul-15-08 02:20:39 PDTHere’s the thing …

If you eat a wheel of cheese to keep you alive and it DOESN”T give you indigestion. That’s not a good thing.

Now I’m worried.

Looks like I’m not the only person who’s physically and emotionally tired of the world’s BS. What are you going to do about it? Me? I’m gonna find a good book and a comfey chair. Walk. Listen to what’s going on inside my own head and heart. Make a list of what’s important. Then like when I was young? I’m just gonna do it. Be the nice person that I really am.

This is when having a friend or husband or wife or significant other is a good thing Sharty. Because while you need to do alot of quiet introspection and learn to stand on your own two feet, it’s really not fun to be alone. Nice when you’re quiet to have someone who pats your hand across the table. Someone gives you smile. Reminds you not to get lost in yourself or your thoughts Or take yourself too seriously.

Someone who knows and loves you.

The real you.

David, my Irish friend, use to tell me that he knew when he’d become close to someone if he could fart in their presence and they were still around the next day. It could be funny or rude or embarrasing but you’d gone past the formalities. You could be awkward and gawky. It was okay. That’s when you’re truly naked. When you finally exhale.

.

Playlist?

Life is a Highway

Rascal Flatts

This song rolls. Road music. Driving through the night. Nothing but stars and planets and the universe above. Moon full. Huge in the night sky. Top down. “Home” sleeping in the seat next to yours. And this song on the radio…

“…If life is a highway? I wanna’ ride it all night long…”

Love Song

Sara Bareilles

“I’m not gonna write you a love song…” I have the chorus of this song memorized. Thing is there’s this verse down at the end of the song. It’s not just the “wheel of cheese” thing. Nope. It’s also this verse

“Promise me that you’ll leave the light on
To help me see with daylight, my guide, gone
’cause I believe there’s a way you can love me
Because I say
I won’t write you a love song

’cause you asked for it
’cause you need one, you see..”

The song isn’t about endings it’s about beginngs. only real ones not fake. My grama leaving the porch light on for us cause she wanted us to know we were welcome.

Nice.

I’ve turned off comments.

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0 commentsWhen you finally exhale.
Posted Jul-15-08 00:12:50 PDT Updated Apr-17-09 14:06:21 PDT”Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…”.

“Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…”.

“Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…”.

“Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…”

“Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…”.

“Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…”.

“Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…..”

“Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull….

When you finally exhale? Oh!

What the heck?

Hint?

Here at 12 dogs, I often write interactive stories. A I wrote for another Bloglander used this post. Just like other blogs the hyperlinks are in blue. When you see words or letters that are blue? That is a doorway to another post. Most times if I’ve done my job right it will result in a complete change in the course of the story. Originally I did it to see what would happen if I tried another plot twist or character trait. It comes from when I was in sculpture class and our Professor would suggest that we try several different ways to look at an idea. Later as I got used to using the hyper links it became a way to provide completely different or parallel stories for the the reader. This story was particularly fun as all the word are in blue. When all the words are in blue? Every word becomes important.

Most times though, when you see a word in blue, it’s context will give you a clue of what happens next.

A bit of trivia for this post. This post is a cross roads. A place were several different story paths converge. In real life there is a Kelly’s Cross Roads in the middle of nowhere in Alabama. If you are from that area, you’d know exactly where I’m talking about. If you aren’t you could drive right through it and never know. Just a bit of trivia.

Try the story. It’s fun. And remember two things. Here at 12 dogs? Getting lost is half the fun and remember it’s the blue links that tell the tale.

Oh and about that story. The one that I wrote for the fellow Bloglander?

“One of thes things is not like the other. One of these things is not the same. Can you tell me which of these things are not like the other by the time I’ve finished this song? ” Sigh. That was it. The only thing written on the page. Why couldn’t clues be simple. Something easy like take three steps right and then turn.

So he did and …”Oh!”

(LOL I just picked that last link at random. Even I don’t know where it’s going to go. Ah Fate, where do we go from here?)

(Sorry for the drama. It was a pirate story. It was supposed to be over the top dramatic)…

If you want to go back to the blog’s beginning? Click here

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0 comments”Why” in the road.
Posted Jul-14-08 14:50:08 PDT Updated Jul-14-08 19:22:52 PDT

.
Why? Because I’m working on Muffbro’s adventure story. Needed a quick way to get there. Oh! and mind the construction.

In the mean time?

You can put your head in the Clouds and take a look around.

LOL. This is a writer’s journal. Fact and fiction mix on this blog all the time. If you’re not sure what’s what? It’s a good idea if you ask.

It is also good to know we haven’t lost one of our oldest readers. Glad that you haven’t lost your sense of humor. Here at 12 dogs we intend to be funny. If you aren’t laughing?

We worry.

So let us know how you’re doing by making a comment or sending an email.

Or I know. Write something.

Writers write Gentle Reader.

That’s how you know they’re writers. πŸ˜€

Ann

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0 comments”Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…”.
Posted Jul-14-08 13:11:11 PDT Updated Jul-15-08 01:41:31 PDTComing soon Chapter 4

Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull”

In the mean time read:

Decisions Decisions Decisions.
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0 comments”Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull…
Posted Jul-14-08 13:09:00 PDT Updated Jul-15-08 01:39:07 PDTWhere was I?
Hmmm.

Twas nightfall at Kelley’s crossroads? Check.

Nothin to be heard for miles but but the sound or chirpin’ crickets? Check.

Well nothing but crickets

and

the sound of diggin…

Yeessshhh… That would bring us to the beginning of…

Chapter 3

“…Twas nightfall at Kelley’s crossroads. Nothin to be heard for miles but but the sound or chirpin’ crickets. Well nothing but crickets and the sound of diggin…”

You know we really should give the boy man a name. Living things shouldn’t go through this Earth without a name. Name’s how you know you exist. How you know you are. Give something a name and it becomes somethin. Or in this case it becomes someone.

So boy now man. Your name? Is… Grace.

Yeah Grace can be a man’s name. Thing is his mama the moment she saw him thought of something she’d heard in church. State of Grace. Imagine, she thought, havin’ a whole state named after you. Oh sure, there weren’t a real state named Grace but having a state of mind named after you could be good too. Besides she knew how to spell it.

Oh. If Grace’s dead mama knew what he was up to on this cold autumn night. She’d be plum tickled. Wha’ you thought he was up to no good? Why? His name wasn’t just his name. His name was his state of being. Good he was. His adopted granny the voodoo queen made sure of it. She’d seen it all in here time in Storyville. She’d made sure he weren’t intrested.

He was out in that field on that cold autumn night to cure Isobelle Jack Russell’s heart condition. See she was in love with a no good, two timin, jack of a man named Jayne. No let me tell you somethin about Ms. Izzy. She was a sweet heart of a tiny girl. Folks protected her not cause she was stupid. No she was smartest in her class. They did it for two reasons. One she was just innocent like a tiny new born kitten. Well that and the fact of her middle name: Jack.

The Jacks, her moma’s people owned half of the county. What they didn’t own they were in the process of trying to buy. They were okay as rich folks go but well they were just industrious in a way that would wear a person out. Luckily Ms. Izzy was not. She was just “doe eyed” sweet. Everybody loved her.

Including her second cousin Jack.

gotta stop here. I’m sleepy. May completely change this is the morning. who knows. better hurry. Aution will be over soon. Ann

…end quote…”

How does it all turn out?

Read Chapter 4 “Kelley’s cross roads and Crystal Skull….

Meanwhile? There’s still time.

You can go read this bid listing. Bid quick and remember shipping is freeeeeee….

270254864535

Okay, now pay attention. Click this next link :

Stop pushing there’s an IPhone for everyone.

and go explore this weekends post. There’s enough to keep you busy. As for me? Gotta go make a “…”b” double “e” double “r” “un”…” for longnecks and popcorn. Maybe wash some clothes.

When you’ve finished reading and end up back here? You can enter the rest of the blog by clicking:

Decisions Decisions Decisions.

Have fun Gentle Reader the next part is the

fine print written in same spirit as Muffbro’s item listing.

Note: The rights to this story is owned solely by the author. Who gives permision to print it here on the 12 dogs blog. But she only gives permision for the use by the writer of this blog AND she can change her mind any time she feels like it. Author also gives Muffbro the right to tell his young son this story at bedtimes and camping trips and any other time his son gets “antsy” like my son used to do and just needs a story for distraction. But only at the good graces of the author which can be recinded any time said author feels like it. Author owns all rights to this story. Good thing the author had her own kid and loves to tell kid’s stories. Part of this permision depends on but, is not limited to, Muffbro telling this story with appropriate “piratey voices” and “lots of drama”. Think Robert Louis Stevenson, Muffbro. Think the tradition of storytellers every where.

This is only between Muffbro and the author. I’m not giving you this story Muff but I’m delighted for you to tell it to your son as part of his ebay adventure. πŸ˜€ Tell him too about the pirate caves of Bay St. Louis, how they’d flood at high tide and come to light at low. I was told that as a kid. That there were pirate tunnels to the houses on the beach. They’d come hide out there. I’m going to write that into the next post but it’s good he knows ahead so that he’ll appreciate the story.

Everybody else. You gotta ask first. I’m sorry. You just do.

Folks at eBay this is a quote from my story. I own it. It is a quote with permision and as such you can print it in this blog but only I see fit. I reserve the right to remove it anytime I feel like it. I can print it any where else that I feel like it. Can get paid for it too. Ebay has no claim to it. Not at all. It’s only printed here because of limited permision to the folks at this blog. Not rights given to ebay. My story eBay go make money auctioning something and leave me be.

If anyone has problems with this you can email me.

Thanks, Author Ann.

epilogue (Stop pushing there’s an IPhone for everyone.Comment|Report this post
0 commentsL
Posted Jul-12-08 22:51:39 PDT Updated Jul-13-08 01:06:59 PDTArt for art’s sake.
Hmm. That sculpture looks just like my first son. The one who spent his entire life in the NICU.

All the other links have something to say. Something to get you to think or some words designed to make a person happy. That’s all I have time for.

Playlist
Sorry, no song. Nothing about this path even remotely inspires me. Well maybe if there was a song about PompASSity. Is that a word? Oh wait, I think I wrote a poem about it. Let’s see, Ah yeah here it is . PompASSity (aka Heard you were having a bad day)
Extra fine print: The Impressionists would never have existed were it not art for artsake. I love those guys and gal. So, while it is difficult to see some artist’s work? I dont’ have to look. Kind of like my blog.

;’

Comment|Report this post
0 commentsL
Posted Jul-12-08 21:53:11 PDT Updated Jul-13-08 04:07:24 PDTA sad thing

A sad thing today. A marriage that never happened. Two sad things. One marriage ended with a death of a suitor. The other ended with the death of relationship. What does it mean if God sends us love and then tells us it is not to be. How do you over come the Inertia of the Heart. I wonder have the tales of true love been nothing more than “Christmas daddies”. Good natured promises of things that are meant to be but never come. So malevant force that plays with us like a cat before it pounces. I wonder. A kangaroo court judgement. But small petty things who begrudge because of their own hurts. Their own souless haints inside a shell. Must be. Who would take love away in such a cruel manner. Not God. Not anyone related to God.

Sigh the above is an exercise in words. I have to point this out, even though I’ve said time and time again that this is a writer’s journal. Fact and fiction live here. You must ask. I’ll save you the detour into ASSumptions.

Otherwise?

Stop pushing there’s an IPhone for everyone.
(You’re just gonna have to find your own way to pay for it.)
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