tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88158879110926760432024-02-06T19:55:01.904-07:00Two, and three.Two of we, plus three of ours, makes five of us.Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.comBlogger1209125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-24109863813670525702015-01-23T05:47:00.002-07:002015-01-23T05:47:57.500-07:00New StuffFor those of you who are still following us I'd like to redirect you over to our new blog project, <a href="http://www.wordsremember.com/">www.wordsremember.com</a>. Damm and I have embarked on artistic and literary adventures and have even opened our own etsy shop which you can find <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/wordsremember" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
Thanks!Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-51017380326512832012014-12-29T20:01:00.002-07:002014-12-29T20:01:49.597-07:00Dayfall.So when I'm writing in the evening, I listen to music. It helps me get mentally away from the day and drowns out distractions. And occasionally the music will create a story as the emotions wrapped in the lyrics lift me and enable me to carry a feeling through. The following story was oddly the result of these songs:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Iggy Azalea, "Black Widow"</li>
<li>Selena Gomez, "The Heart Wants What It Wants"</li>
<li>Ariana Grande, "Love me harder"</li>
<li>Sia, "Chandelier"</li>
<li>Jessie J, Ariana Grande, and Nicki Minaj, "Bang Bang"</li>
</ul>
<div>
After I got done and looked at the play list I wanted to laugh.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's my story:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Day-fall.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Rise from the grave
of light.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Scales dripping with
grains of forgetfulness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Taste of the desert on
your tongue. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Fires of a midnight
sun in your eye. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Standing firm on a
shifting pile of time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Watched by the bones
of the earth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Hugged by the chill
of the wind. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Blink against the
spines of the vanishing star. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Kiss the moon past
the water of the sand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Memory of dew in the
heart of thirst. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Slide into the maw of
history.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The past calls to the
future.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Secrets unbidden.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Whispers in the ears
of scholars.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Fools who listen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: ZH-TW; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p><span style="text-align: center;"> </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Words of the soul
written on tools of the body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Bones of ink on the
blood of iron.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Magic’s curse written
in prayers and hope.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Death and fury raised
to protect.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Tears on the lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Fears on the wind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Time hear our call.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Memory remember.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Shatter the hearts of
our children.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Break the teeth of
the egg.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Recall the light of
the sun in the lands of shadow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Years of ages.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Minutes pass like
miles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Remembrance fails.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Ebony veins wait.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: ZH-TW; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p><span style="text-align: center;"> </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Read the student of
the wise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Follow the steps of
the mother.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Come the breath of
the sand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Phrases on my skin.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Promises written on
dust’s frame.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Mist fails in
fleshless fingers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Who knows? Who remembers?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Thunder’s kin screams
silently.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Gift of lightning’s
cry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Call my father.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Beckon my oncoming past.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Crimson eternal yolk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Like the eggshells of
the heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Mortality’s imminence
asks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
What hope in sadness?<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: ZH-TW; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p><span style="text-align: center;"> </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Sacrifice refuses
surrender.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Hope whispers against
the gravity of aeons.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Hearts held in balance
of sleepy silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Hear the call of the
soil.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Deny. Deny. Deny.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Thrice spoken. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Endlessly written.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Verses sing the hymns
of giants.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Sheep remember their
fangs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Sleepers shake loose
the dreams.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Daybreak shatters.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Earth’s soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Giant’s blood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Titan’s seed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Of Mice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-10682923329000448412014-07-31T07:56:00.002-06:002014-07-31T07:56:42.989-06:00Deep breath. Begin.February 22 was the anniversary of Cayden's funeral. I spent the day not thinking about it, forcefully turning my mind from memories and images. I had to do this, to keep from moving into a state of utter panic. There was a GurgleOrc waiting to be born. His due date was February 27. He was moving consistently, but I still poked and prodded him if he went longer than an hour or so without adjusting position.<br />
<br />
He was late, as all mine have been. He made his appearance on March 2. I spent the entire labor refusing to believe that it was actually happening, that what I was feeling weren't Braxton-Hicks contractions. By four in the afternoon the pain was intense enough that I decided I needed that blessed epidural. So we went, were admitted, I was praised for my calm demeanor and asked if I was sure I really needed the epidural? I assured them I did, that I was only calm because I knew it was coming. Around nine that evening the nurse announced it was time to push. We spent a few minutes doing this and then to my complete and utter surprise GurgleOrc was handed to me. After the marathon sessions with Orclette and Miniorc I had expected this one to go on and on and on and .... You get the picture.<br />
<br />
GurgleOrc is five months now. I don't dwell overmuch on thinking about how old Cayden would be now as it's still too painful. We talk about him frequently, I include him in our prayers, I say we have four children to those who ask. I can sometimes sing in church now although tears always threaten. The music is beginning to come back, the mind is thinking again, ideas are formulating. And GurgleOrc is pure joy. He wakes up slowly, gurgling softly, then upping the volume until he's telling all and sundry that HE IS AWAKE. BASK IN MY PRESENCE. His sister and brother adore him and I've only heard a couple of times that they wish we could send him back (and that was in the beginning, now Miniorc tells e that he won't ever let anyone hurt his little brother).<br />
<br />
So. There we are. I'm pronouncing myself back. I'm not fully Wulfa yet, but then I will never again be the Wulfa that I was. And that's fine. Pain is a constant reminder to me, but joy comes with it as I think about one day, a long ways from now, getting to talk to Cayden, ask him what he thought of his childhood, what he thinks about everything. Preferably in a library with squashy armchairs and lots of coffee (I don't subscribe to the floating on clouds idea of heaven). It will be lovely.Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-14665698341139737192014-05-10T09:54:00.002-06:002014-05-10T09:54:31.506-06:00On goals, plans, Walter Mitty, Rothfuss, and babies.Oh and on the south pacific. I was trying to describe to my brother today the longing. And failing. Terribly. Stupid walter, mitty and stupid nim and her stupid island. <br />
<br />
Six years ago when we were first writing this blog as a WoW blog and as an experiment it trying to make friends on the internet and moving into a new internet neighborhood of blogging myself and herself were in serious talks about our dreams and hopes in life and what we "REALLY" wanted out of life and how to get it. Very SRS-BZNS all around. So after a bit we realized that all of our dreams kept coming back to "get a degree and then...."<br />
<br />
So I <strike>suckered</strike> convinced her into moving to Las Cruces, NM so we could go to school because it would be sooooo much cheaper and we could live with my parents(HAHAHHA*). But regardless for the past six years all of our life efforts have been solely focused on one thing. Get degree. Get job after. Start life part 2.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*We lasted 3 months with them**</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**It wasn't your fault mom/dad. We had no idea how much harder it is living with people after you've moved out.***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">***Especially with both of us being natural introverts who don't like being around other people --all-- that much.****</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">****I like people a lot yes but only when I can control the interaction rate.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
Well now we're there. I've got my degree. She is like 7-9 classes short of hers. I have solid job. We're ready to commence LIFE_PART_TWO. So we sat down right, and opened up our carefully planned out folder for what our new goals/plans would be now that we've achieved step 1. That folder is empty. Not just empty but filled with dust, cobwebs, a vacant expression cricket and a broken penny.<br />
<br />
And I feel like I'm suddenly a teenager again. What am I supposed to do with my life now that I'm grown up? And how can I do it responsibly and carefully because I have like... kids now. And they're appreciative of meals, beds, and roofs.<br />
<br />
So as I stare into the gurgling eyes of our newest. And watch my eldest explain the finer points of magical horse interaction with superheros to her brother. I start facing the longing again.<br />
<br />
I long to see other places.<br />
<br />
I long to write, and to draw.<br />
<br />
I long for long walks and laughter over imaginary things and angry discussions about who really would have won that game if only and etc.<br />
<br />
*** Train tracks jumped.***<br />
<br />
And some, well most of those things are just simply a part of life and can happen and do happen anywhere you go. I have some -amazing- friends. People who have saved lives overseas and here and don't even realize how their lives are capable of making others tremble around them. People who have played for broadway and touched the dead sea scrolls and build bridges while being dedicated fathers in the desert. People who are effusively cheerful and happy and keep others afloat when all of the sorrows of life are sweeping over them. People who were there when you needed them, who dedicated their lives to the care of another and watched their career and personal goals get sacrificed and never even thought of doing otherwise because the other was more important. People who have been there, seen that, and still managed to put to shame anyone they meet because they can do it all while juggling a huge family and all the cares of the world.<br />
<br />
Damn, I started this off trying to explain why I longed to write but I needed to stop and describe those who helped me along the way and I can't even list them all. We have been so incredibly blessed by the people we've known in this journey. And what is even more amazing is that so many of them probably have no idea of how much they ever touched our lives. There were a number of times where I would walk into school and be down and hating life and a friend would just smile and tease me about hugs. I'd grouse and grumble about unwanted physical contact but the truth is that those hugs and that teasing kept me afloat at a time when I really and truly thought I wasn't going to make it. When I expected to fail so spectacularly that everyone would have to leave me just so the ripple effects wouldn't drag them under. Hyperbole? Probably but when you are feeling that way it doesn't feel that way. <br />
<br />
The other impact is all the people who played rabbit for me. When dogs race sometimes people put a mechanical rabbit out in front of them. The rabbit always goes -just- a little bit faster than the dog. Not so fast that she'll give up but fast enough that she'll never catch it. Catch-able but always taunting. These friends were the ones doing the amazing things. None of them ever looked back and said "you can't do this... I'm so much more amazing then you". Hell none of them probably even thought they were amazing. But they drove me onward. There was no way on this earth, under this sun, with this breath I was going to watch them do something and say "Oh it is too hard. I can't do that." Their examples shamed me when I whined too much. Their smiles required that I smile. To show that I could to. And I did much better and much more than I would have had they not been there.<br />
<br />
And finally there were the advisers. Those who saw our trials and came along side and helped carry the load and encourage us and shelter us. <br />
<br />
I wish I could name everyone. I can't because my memory is so faulty and the names keep popping up. I've only been writing this for 30 min and I've already got 50+ names so instead I'm just going to be generic in my thanks. But wow, everyone who was there for us, you really and truly impacted our lives and helped transform a family. Thank you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-87091478849882495282014-01-19T16:29:00.001-07:002014-01-19T16:29:55.668-07:00Payment Parts 1 2 and 3.Okay wow. It sure has been ages since I've posted anything here.<br />
<br />
I'll have to do a life-story-recap but what reminded me to post was someone harassing me about Payment a story that I wrote almost four years ago now. So, since it has been so long I"m putting the first two bits and the latest bit together and posting it here.<br />
========================================================================<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alice was 33. She was the head personal maid to her Ladyship
the Duchess. She obtained this illustrious position because she was clean,
organized, neat, and prompt about her duties. She obtained those attributes by
always looking forwards to the next task. Never daydreaming, never being
distracted by life's hopes. Always anticipating what would happen next. That
was why she was at the ball.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a young girl she used to daydream of princes and castles.
That ended when her parents disappeared one night. After a week of waiting the
uncaring town officials had her packaged up and sent to an orphanage. There she
learned many things. That her name was Alice. That she was to be a servant.
That she had been abandoned and did not deserve the love that normal children
received. She was told she had better be productive or she’d find herself
starving on the highway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tonight thoughts of her childhood had been bustled up by the
business of life and shoved into a closet. Covered with duties and obligations.
Earlier tonight had been spent in a controlled panic. Tonight’s ball had been
and still was quite a surprise. The mercenary company had arrived early. The
same company that had been so instrumental in the latest victory in the war. In
turning around the Summer King’s losing war with the empire to the west. In
forcing them to accept what they had taken and take no more. The heroes of the
day… were early. They had made it back to the capitol almost a week ahead of
schedule. They would have been a complete surprise but a messenger rider had
seen them about a day out and had rushed in with the news.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rather than be seen unprepared the royal court had sprung
into action. Tonight’s ball had been thrown together with all the haste that
could be beaten out of the servants and commoners available. Gold spent like
water in an effort to preserve the myth of the all knowing nobility.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alice herself had spent all day fixing her Ladyship a new
dress with a new hairstyle and just the right color of yellow to stand out but
blend in with the Summer Court. She was quite pleased with her efforts. Her
ladyship was easily the best dressed woman at the ball and this fact had
already been noticed by several of the more eligible bachelors.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She sat across the room from the Duchess; right next to the
wine table, ready at a moment’s notice to hop up and fetch anything required.
Sometimes wine, sometimes a snack, sometimes a light wet cloth for wiping away
the sweat of the summer heat. And sometimes even drugged wine for some of the
more… avid lords who didn’t know how to take a kindly hinted dismissal from her
Ladyship. They would simply wakeup the next morning with a heavier hangover
than normal and no memory of having been refused by a beautiful woman.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ah! There it was, nothing noticeable if you were not aware.
A quick gesture meaning more wine, unchilled, undrugged. Alice swept up a few
glasses and started weaving her way across the dance floor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The air was warm. The room noisy. The vibrations of the
dancers gently shook the wooden floor. The music pranced around her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“<span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Bethany</span>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The room grew distant. She suddenly had to focus carefully
just to keep walking straight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“Bethany Marie”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ice swept through her blood. Winter frost numbed her hands.
Images of vast glacial walls and deep icy rivers rushed through her mind.The
tray in her hands shook and slipped to the floor with the tinkle of cracking
ice. She stopped in her tracks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“<b>Bethany Marie Sarahsdaughter</b>”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An impossibly large man dressed in barbarian leathers walked
out of the crowd. His chest covered in icy blue ink sigils and harsh forgotten
phrases. On his back a massive stone sword covered in azure runes rested; held
by two thin leather cords. His eyes glowed with a neon blue fire.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Alice, no that
isn’t/wasn’t/wouldn’t be her. Alice saw. Suddenly, unbidden she saw. For the
first time in almost twenty years her mother’s face drifted in her mind’s eye.
Her mother standing over her father’s body healing him with tears in her eyes.
Her mother suddenly snapped up in the giant claws of an enormous blue lizard.
An ancient wyrm from beyond season. Her mother struggling against the crushing
grip ice water turning her hair black.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A far off frozen
wasteland. A dying egg. Her mother pouring the last of her healing magic into
the egg. Another wyrm nuzzling the now living shell.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The two dragons
conferring. A claw dipped in blue blood and traced over scales. Sigils of
meaning and power. Phrases of promises and debts.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A question to her
dying mother. Icy pale from exhaustion her mother’s gasped response. One last
misty breath and then eternal peace.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alice was herself once more. On her knees in the middle of
the floor. The image of her mother whispering her name with her last breath
etched in her mind forever. Her soul numb with the remembrance of all that she
had lost. All that had been taken from her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Bethany Marie Sarahsdaughter”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The booming voice was no longer just in her mind. The room
froze as everyone stared at the icy giant. The fey dragon bound in man form.
Elemental winter in the shape of a mortal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“I have come. My life bound to serve you. My blade bound to aid you. My
magic bound to protect you.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Bethany Marie Sarahsdaughter. I AM PAYMENT.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They had taught her many things in the orphanage. That her
name was Alice. That she couldn't dream of anything better than a servant’s
life. That she had been abandoned and was unloved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of these were wrong. Her Imperial Majesty, Bethany Marie
Sarahsdaughter, Queen of Dragons was reborn that night. Freed from rotting
slavery in the summer king's palace by winter's life debt to her mother.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Posted in Feb 2010) <a href="http://twoandahalforcs.blogspot.com/2010/02/payment.html">http://twoandahalforcs.blogspot.com/2010/02/payment.html</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Captain! You’d better come quick. Sky is about to start
something huge.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sergeant interrupted Mercenary Captain Lightblade’s
charming rendition of the heroics performed by his company. The surrounding
crowd of guests whispered among themselves surprised that he would allow such a
brash interruption. But he simply smiled and excused himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The diplomatic smile hid inner worry. Strangers who saw sky
only saw his physique and thought that his fighting strength lay in
swordsmanship. Ha! The man couldn’t out duel a fly. He as immensely strong, yes
but had no clue how to use the blade he carried in melee combat. However,
outside of a martial contest he was devastating. The man was simply the best
war mage the captain had ever seen. That had been proven at the pass of Reijin.
Sky alone had held the shield against at least twenty imperial mages. Their
bombardments were casually ignored. At the same time he had reinforced the
bridge the pass was known for; allowing more refuges to cross faster and had
assisted the companies three other mages in counter bombardment. But with a
range, power and finesse they could not match.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not to say the man was invincible. The captain was certain
he was mortal but give Sky a meager personal guard and he would be an army to
himself. Fortunately he avoided all conflict and was very content to accept any
orders that had been given him since he signed on to the company last spring on
the north shore of Jennen. Which was why this news was a surprise. Sky starting
a fight. This was a problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No, change that. “Sky” and “start something” was disaster.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The band froze at the booming statement. The dancers paused.
Everyone’s attention focused on the dumpy woman in the middle of the room and
the uncouth man whose voice had silenced them. The party was completely
derailed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Grand Duke Montain rose angrily from his upper balcony
table to see what and who had interrupted his party. A flush spread across his
face when he recognized his niece’s serving girl, on her knees confronted by a
large unwashed mercenary. Some jaded lover returned, he presumed, and interrupting
his ball like at some commoner house building party. Furious he turned to his
nephew and snapped: “Deal with this intrusion” Then he sat back down and
resumed his card game and the important discussions that went along with it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Earl of Kines pushed his way through the crowd. He had
worked hard to get a seat at that table. All of the Lords who were anyone were
there and with the Summer King absent it was the highest honor available at
this ball. So much power and influence in one spot the opportunity to make
contacts was beyond value. And now banished like a serving boy to clean up his
sisters mess. His inner anger boiled to his face and more than one of the lesser
nobility flinched as they got out of his way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd finally parted and he found himself standing over
his sister’s maid. He tried to remember her name. Amanda or Alicia or something
like that; it didn’t matter. He raised his hand to strike her for the impudence
of interrupting such a momentous occasion…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“Strike her and die”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Spinning, he turned to the mercenary who had spoken.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“You threaten me? Dog
tonight I will have you in chains. Guards! Remove this man!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Immediately, at least ten palace guards surrounded the
mercenary their weapons drawn. The sergeant at arms spoke up: “Surrender your
weapon and come with us or draw it and we’ll take your dead body.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tattooed behemoth simply shrugged. Drawing his stone
blade he planted it in front of him. Two calloused hands rested on its pommel.
The Earl felt the air cool noticeably.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“STOP” A third voice halted the guards a second before they
reacted to the drawn blade. The Earl saw a mercenary officer emerge from the
crowd.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My Lord,” the officer started, “please call off your men. I
will take my soldier and we will withdraw. I will pay any rudeness fine that
must be addressed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Earl sneered, the temerity of the man. Bargaining with
him? As if he was a minor noble who had been bumped in the market place. “This
is beyond rudeness. This fool has threatened my life and shall be punished for
it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A smile flashed across his face as he saw the captain
blanch. It didn’t stay long.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My Lord,” the Captain , “if your men attack they will all
die, and more than likely most of us will as well. My soldier Sky there is an
elemental Grandmaster. If he can hold of the might of the Imperial Mage Corp do
you really want him to unleash his strength here and now? Please just let me
take him and go. I will send a currier after we are gone to discuss settlement
and make amends for this affront. I beseech you do not allow his uncivilized
behavior to further ruin your evening.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A cold tremor of fear crept through the Earl. This man? A
mage? That mage? Taking another look at the large man confronting his guards he
shook his head. This couldn’t be. He scanned the crowd for his own mage Krem.
He needed some sort of verification.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He found it. There in the back of the room was Krem, staring
white faced at the barbarian; flame magic and fear in his eyes; backing towards
the exit. The Earl’s fear intensified mixing with embarrassment and anger. He
turned back to the captain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Go. Take your rabble and go. But I swear you will
recompense me for this.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The captain sighed with relief, he really had thought for a
moment there that this Earl would have ordered the attack and killed them all.
Turning to Sky he gestured, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sky returned his weapon to his back, strode past the Earl
and his guards, and swept up the unmoving servant woman. He then quickly
followed his captain out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As soon as they were out of the room the captain turned to
the Sergeant who had summoned him. “Rodriguez grab the men. All of them. I want
everyone back at camp within the hour. Things are going to get real ugly soon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Posted in March 2010) <a href="http://twoandahalforcs.blogspot.com/2010/03/paymentcontinued.html">http://twoandahalforcs.blogspot.com/2010/03/paymentcontinued.html</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As soon as they were out of the building a squadron of
guards fell in around them and marched them down streets to a wagon. The giant of man carried her effortlessly as
if she only weighed as much as a feather pillow. Once in the wagon they sat in troubled
silence on a hurried bumpy ride towards the outskirts of town. She stared at the large man across from
her. The runes on his skin moved it
seemed; like they danced in responses to her thoughts. Winter roared. Storms crackled. Lightning in the snow. Ice shattering from the skies. It was like deep of winter encasing every
thought. Suddenly she couldn’t stop
shivering even though her skin wasn’t cold.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Upon reaching a camp of tents the authoritative man who had
ushered them out of the palace leaned out and snapped orders at some soldiers
standing around. Suddenly shouts filled
the air and the camp exploded with movement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Take her to the map room.
I’ll be there in just a moment.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Icy arms lifted her shaking form out of the wagon and
carried her into one of the larger tents.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Bethany Marie Sarahsdaughter, I do not have a chair. I apologize but you must stand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wearily she stood.
How had simple words upset her so badly that she couldn’t even think
clearly. Where was she? In a panic she was pinned by the thought of
the Duchesses anger over her absence.
The giant caught the look on her face and laughed. A booming preposterous laughter that seemed
to rattle the tent poles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They cannot touch you.
They dare not touch you. By now
even if I were to fall the returned gift has found seed ground in you. Your soul flowers a new you, daughter of the
life bringer. Our kind does not forget
and you will live as long as us. Mine
are not weak and you will be our equal.
As we owe you everything we will give you everything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And what good would that do her?” A wry voice interrupted the lecture from the
Giant. “Have you ever seen a child who
was given everything? Or an adult? Too much of a gift is just as poisonous as
none at all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turning to her he continued:
“Well now, your clothes say you are a high house’s servant. And despite your feverous demeanor you have
remarkably kept your composure. And for
some reason this oaf of a mage thinks you are God’s gift to frozen oafs
everywhere, and is willing to kill over it.
So, Milady gift…..Who are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She is t-“<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Shut up Sky. I asked
her and based on how you are acting it is hers to answer. Who are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She stood there. In
the center of the plain, neat field tent staring at the floor. Her mind lost in a past that was lost to
her. Memories of forgotten fjords, and
shattered frozen forests rippled in her eyes.
The room felt like it was ice but sweat rolled down her face. She blinked and tried to remember who she was
addressing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The weird giant, Sky, was a complete anomaly and any time
she looked at him she kept getting glimpses of huge reptilian faces and icy
fields. The other man however…. Suddenly
her memory put his outfit and accent and attitude together.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lightblade Yerrin they called him. The man who reached out and wielded a sun
beam to defeat the Forest beasts to the south.
The commander who pulled a blade out of a reflection in a mirror to defeat
assassins in the Hall of Memories.
Second only to the Summer King in renown. His troops had worked miracles and were
willing to kill at the merest slight to this man. He was bizarrely young, a thin clean faced
man with an intense gaze. A gaze that was
focused on her, drilling into her soul like the blades he was known for. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That is I was… I am Alice Noneson, Head Maid of the Lady
Duchess D’Montain. I have served
faithfully for nearly 20 summe----winters now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As she spoke her voice cracked oddly with the effort of
speaking. It was like two people warred
inside her. Alice the serving maid clung
to a world was flickering like a dying fire while Bethany woke up from a
lifetime of sleep. Her bones ached and
her head felt like it would burst.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And that’s all? No
ages old magical cabal connections? No
secret power behind the thrown? Just a
middle aged woman slipping in the mud in front of a tidal wave?” His voice slightly disbelieving, the Captain
raised an eyebrow at Sky. “Are you sure
you got the right one?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Somewhere deep, deep
inside bright blue eyes flared and snarled.</i>
Even the Alice part of her soul snarled.
She wasn’t just some village nobody.
<i>Winter served her breath,
blizzards echoed her wrath.</i> She had
worked hard to get to her post and was known in every major house. <i> The
wolves howled at her approach, bears hid in their dens.</i> How dare this, man, this mercenary captain
speak of her in this manner. She controlled
more of the cities actions in a day than he dreamed about in a year with his
petty little tents. She commanded storms
from mountains so cold they would-----
Wait…what?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anger pure and deep spun startled with no where to go. Frustration built in her like a volcano. A chanting echo whispered in her ears and
runes danced in her eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you-“<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“SHUT UP!” </span>Her shout
exploded at the sky. The tent tore open
and snow, snow in the middle of summer drifted in huge flurries around the
three of them. All around the camp froze
in surprise. Her fists worked angrily
and suddenly her mind was awake again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Captain Lightblade, you sit there now and shut your
mouth. I did not ask for this damn fool
to come throw my world upside down and ruin my relationship with my Lady and
her house. I did not ask for you to come
kidnap me outside of my city and away from my staff. I did not ask for him to infect me with this …
this whatever it is. But I am not a
little gel to be lectured by some young sapling who thinks he runs the world
because he can kill a few bandits. I am
not a pretty little skirt to go chasing off to fool camps and be ridiculed. I am winter’s—“<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She shut her mouth hard cutting off the rest. <i>I am Winter’s
breath and Queen among Dragons, I am the Mother of Snow.</i> The shaking intensified again and she
realized that she was standing in nearly two feet of snow screaming at a rather
smug Sky and an open mouthed Lightblade while a crowd of soldiers boggled from
surrounding tents. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In a much shakier voice she trembled “what…is happening to
me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The captain’s eyes softened and he closed the distance between
them in a few, sure steps. Catching her
before she could fall he answered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s find out shall we?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then the feverish cold swept her back into oblivion.<o:p></o:p></div>
Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-19569286265288214212013-08-24T14:18:00.000-06:002013-08-24T14:25:31.929-06:00A paper I wrote this summer.<iframe height="480" src="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B31-0MwR60fpcHpsbDVLNkhONzQ/preview" width="780"></iframe>
This paper came from my time at <a href="http://ahpcrc.stanford.edu/">AHPCRC </a> this summer.Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-21450885986536983332013-08-24T10:10:00.003-06:002013-08-24T10:35:26.328-06:00Together<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfeLrJOdVQDVqjNuadxLYjNQSfzZWtPktO6CxAVridOknUtqm2tI2SGW8iYvHujb8R5sBtwf4TUffWEFsnm9LxhOs47JQQUtQOwwQ3QJqAQE938mqeGgHM7izNEdCWYlEhWIGjyi_NEgp/s1600/IMG_20130824_100626_483.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfeLrJOdVQDVqjNuadxLYjNQSfzZWtPktO6CxAVridOknUtqm2tI2SGW8iYvHujb8R5sBtwf4TUffWEFsnm9LxhOs47JQQUtQOwwQ3QJqAQE938mqeGgHM7izNEdCWYlEhWIGjyi_NEgp/s640/IMG_20130824_100626_483.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner but drawing with the kids is all kinds of cool.</div>
<br />Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-37570631308080650202013-07-22T12:20:00.001-06:002013-07-22T12:20:58.585-06:00Notes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVm6yL0Nwj4mzXBxomlu9vo14nV5U42k8XDhZHzfIehusRrtOc9y9LaOcQC-nx5HVyJw8dvrIhCOzn_I8rhgKOMPkxiA1ija4nBBi8MXuJvr83mFeCjM8in55V0HU5FVkaZCg2zwxzMsNk/s1600/IMG_20130722_101450_121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVm6yL0Nwj4mzXBxomlu9vo14nV5U42k8XDhZHzfIehusRrtOc9y9LaOcQC-nx5HVyJw8dvrIhCOzn_I8rhgKOMPkxiA1ija4nBBi8MXuJvr83mFeCjM8in55V0HU5FVkaZCg2zwxzMsNk/s640/IMG_20130722_101450_121.jpg"> </a> </div>Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-24701273971572768602013-07-22T11:38:00.001-06:002013-07-22T11:38:58.943-06:00Another picture 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHMb31yX8V4U9Rdu-2haS6XxYNclZahqzHDQ5QazgS9kYYDV1uoNgKjCnKeEQXVUcAghILguBFWR8125Uu3IAjcqY5nvJNnZVtYT9Gin3ePYF0Hbn09Cjc1Yob71iasbIvHX_UhpNqX1z/s1600/IMG_20130722_101407_382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHMb31yX8V4U9Rdu-2haS6XxYNclZahqzHDQ5QazgS9kYYDV1uoNgKjCnKeEQXVUcAghILguBFWR8125Uu3IAjcqY5nvJNnZVtYT9Gin3ePYF0Hbn09Cjc1Yob71iasbIvHX_UhpNqX1z/s640/IMG_20130722_101407_382.jpg"> </a> </div>Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-8942760209127857432013-07-22T09:56:00.004-06:002013-07-22T09:56:56.579-06:00Another picture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2YIoUpiG05Efs-lmWSeARwjoDL9EsQ9rrWO76zhjLZgGbKy4BipHU61DRWHS0u0DL_P8qQ22xbgx-JStdn2BELwLW0hc1spiRNjH13t-NPRiVd9MLnioy5fjEEviYMIam3efkC88wHb6o/s1600/IMG_20130718_142441_322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2YIoUpiG05Efs-lmWSeARwjoDL9EsQ9rrWO76zhjLZgGbKy4BipHU61DRWHS0u0DL_P8qQ22xbgx-JStdn2BELwLW0hc1spiRNjH13t-NPRiVd9MLnioy5fjEEviYMIam3efkC88wHb6o/s400/IMG_20130718_142441_322.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-44202728988275040152013-07-18T15:23:00.000-06:002013-07-18T15:27:03.115-06:00A picture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJyuunj7OtPzC2gq8re4q6eHyS9Wl4g23ZNHQ4gXOmB5UzUPJwJ7tjP01GrpPgHCL3P_firI7ncvCCJydo4EC00iI9yxn4DrQW0oLQE3IjwTM86wjY3njx3tol8Y7qYOavq_fJ6bMRaoi9/s1600/IMG_20130718_121445_494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJyuunj7OtPzC2gq8re4q6eHyS9Wl4g23ZNHQ4gXOmB5UzUPJwJ7tjP01GrpPgHCL3P_firI7ncvCCJydo4EC00iI9yxn4DrQW0oLQE3IjwTM86wjY3njx3tol8Y7qYOavq_fJ6bMRaoi9/s400/IMG_20130718_121445_494.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-56309738777033348282013-07-04T18:47:00.002-06:002013-07-04T18:47:49.339-06:00Among the trees(story)<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>To say that we live just doesn’t seem right. I eat I move. I drink. I even sleep. But… it doesn’t feel right. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>753 days ago I woke up in the garden alone and covered in dew laying on
a path of bricks.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>671 days ago I saw the first other person I had ever seen among the
perfectly manicured hedges.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>623 days ago I talked to her.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>543 days ago she talked back.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>217 days ago we met someone else.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>30 days ago I watched them both die.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Yesterday I found a weapon.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>There are things I’ve learned about this place; where to find food,
where to drink, where to sleep out of the rain.
There are things I’ve feared, starving, loneliness, dying in a spurt of
too bright blood. There are things I’ve
fled from. I don’t know if they can be
killed but I guess from a logical point I don’t know yet if I can be.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Today I’m going to find out.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I crouched among the bushes at the end of the lane. The garden here was less shrubs and more like
a college campus. Large buildings that I
couldn’t enter surrounded by bushes and trees spaced enough to give an open
park like feel but still provide a good amount of shade. The brick paths from the maze area ended just
before my current position and turned into a softer asphalt that was still much
harder than any dirt or grass surface.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I clutched in my hand the pistol I had found. I had ten bullets in the clip. Like all the writing in this drearily perfect
place I couldn’t read it. Every time I
looked at it the words seemed to change slightly from what I remembered from
the last time I looked. I only even know
the pistol works because I fired it last night twice to test. The noise of the shots were devastatingly loud
in the quiet of the garden.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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From where I was I could see the slight trail of blood my
enemy had left. It led up towards the
clocks and bridges. Not around the lower
half of the campus where the fruit trees were but through the pines, near the
lemonade stand. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It still bothers me that there is an empty lemonade stand
there with one full pitcher of fresh lemonade.
No matter how many times I empty it or break it or hide it the stand is
always perfectly there the next day…with a fresh pitcher.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But that doesn’t matter.
The trail does. It winds past the
grass across from the stand and down over the first bridge. I follow running from tree to tree. Hiding and glancing from cover to follow the
trail. The bridge poses a problem. It isn’t one of the covered ones but only one
of the early more plain wooden arches.
No cover there and too long in the open.
I’m afraid I’ll be seen.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The thought occurs to me that I should just turn back. But where would I go? Everyone I knew existed is dead now. NO.
Turning back isn’t an option. I
gather my all too fearful soul and sprint over the bridge pistol gripped
tightly turning my head wildly to see if I can catch sight of my enemy watching
me. I see no one.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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On the first Island I pause.
I wasn’t seen. The trail goes
on. I follow and each bridge I cross
becomes less and less of a barrier. The fear
of the open conquered by the boldness of repetition. Amazing to me how fear fades backwards so
easily for some things and yet stays so sharply vigilant for others. I once tried wading through the water
here. The thought still makes me
tremble. Bridges really are the only
option.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Towards the middle, where the clocks tick but don’t chime
every hour, I find a new brighter trail of blood. My enemy tried to wash off the blood of my
companions and got a lesson about the water here. This new trail of my enemy’s blood leads away
from the clocks towards the catalogue, where all the plants have unreadable
placards placed next to them. At least
now I know my enemy bleeds.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I’m eager now. I
follow at a rapid walk. Weapon held at
the ready. Now I’m no longer just a tracker. Now for the first time I feel like a
hunter. I will find my enemy and I will
get retribution. I will live. I may die after this brief moment of life but
I know I will live. I will not be a
servant to my fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The trail cuts through the catalogue like a straight edge,
brushing past plants and placards alike with a driving urgency I follow. Down through the gate to the flowers. Past the flowers and out towards the orchards
where the paths turn into dirt. There
among the cherry trees I see my enemy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My gun comes up to the ready. I draw aim and with a slight intake of breath
and a prayer I act. The mechanical force
of my finger activates a chemical response and a physical result. The sound shatters the orchard’s whispering
breezes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The gun fires.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My enemy turns; and I can see shock and anger. I have declared my stand and engaged. I did not run like our friend. I was not killed unknowing like my companion. I no longer passively wander among the
garden. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My enemy engages.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The gun fires many more times and is silent.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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A body falls to the ground spurting too fresh blood and the
breezes again claim their rightful rule over the sounds among the trees. The spreading pool ripples silently as a
cherry blossom shaken by the action lands in the crimson stain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-37525567887386687292013-06-07T08:45:00.003-06:002013-06-07T08:45:53.959-06:00My garden, it grows.I still haven't been in the mood to write, but I am quite pleased with my container garden this year.<br />
Pictures ...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6o27qKjmTk-TIvS2WkwXc9XnI4xTuIX978W-XJk6TOyl7J6zd67Vv_6PW4mz_o3W7XYzRq43buyONLU_JYp03-y7QEZwi8VwueSrpTkYnxgSRNP3pluaejiJVPi8v_i9FofZ75UYv5KO/s1600/2013-06-07_08-17-02_703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6o27qKjmTk-TIvS2WkwXc9XnI4xTuIX978W-XJk6TOyl7J6zd67Vv_6PW4mz_o3W7XYzRq43buyONLU_JYp03-y7QEZwi8VwueSrpTkYnxgSRNP3pluaejiJVPi8v_i9FofZ75UYv5KO/s320/2013-06-07_08-17-02_703.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miniorc's tomato plant. Four baby tomatoes so far.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbK7Brs-q05YuUBqMkXX28PCozzG2mE6vlgCGFOqglbsyYiYY8p3bN_MBjQsL3MOhbiSqWaVppQAaacm9gw_AUIRGxZhZq7hGBSoIEZBiWHUVB9FkyN6M02QqLmdz9mRVSR8-bHdzYIWGq/s1600/2013-06-07_08-17-21_803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbK7Brs-q05YuUBqMkXX28PCozzG2mE6vlgCGFOqglbsyYiYY8p3bN_MBjQsL3MOhbiSqWaVppQAaacm9gw_AUIRGxZhZq7hGBSoIEZBiWHUVB9FkyN6M02QqLmdz9mRVSR8-bHdzYIWGq/s320/2013-06-07_08-17-21_803.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orclette's strawberry plant. She's actually gotten quite a few and has enjoyed being able to pick them, wash them off, and then eat the product of her labor.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOI23y3vUznLSGmFKon0urj4rnoW8aWnBkobq_yxBQOVMIlYnAxsC9KF9QvFzcbg1iB5zVv6Nux-Uduwad7bdAG7LnyVNMcgP3uFwvVedtuJ7oaPZwwCfHM1MrfrdNfEX6peM9AgM5nOw4/s1600/2013-06-07_08-17-38_46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOI23y3vUznLSGmFKon0urj4rnoW8aWnBkobq_yxBQOVMIlYnAxsC9KF9QvFzcbg1iB5zVv6Nux-Uduwad7bdAG7LnyVNMcgP3uFwvVedtuJ7oaPZwwCfHM1MrfrdNfEX6peM9AgM5nOw4/s320/2013-06-07_08-17-38_46.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overall view of our front porch. Damm thinks it looks messy, I think it's not messy enough. I'll eventually have a jungle of a garden when I have the time and space.</td></tr>
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<br />Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-65990623278200612852013-05-10T05:27:00.001-06:002013-05-10T05:27:22.011-06:00Silence.I haven't felt much like writing, journaling or even texting. I'm guessing this is another phase of numbness, another step along the grieving path. The grief is a part of me now, something I let out every once in a while so that it doesn't build up too much.<br />
<br />
I wrote something in my journal one day after going to church on Sunday. <i>Church was hard during the singing. It's as if I'm staring at heaven, knowing Cayden is there and how good it is, and it uplifts and breaks my heart at the same time. </i>I've been savoring this poignancy since it is one that does not overwhelm me and it is a source of hope.<br />
<br />
The Orclette asked me the other day why I was still sad, why I still had days where I struggled to function normally. I told her that it would never truly go away, but that she and Miniorc were sources of joy for me.<br />
<br />
It has to be a rough time to be a friend to someone, after they've lost someone. I'm fortunate (not really fortunate, of course, since I'd rather it not happen at all) in that my friends understand grief. There are some who still look as though they don't know how to talk to me, but there are others who understand, who don't flinch when I talk about my memories of Cayden.<br />
<br />
I have better days and weeks. I'm not always morose, in fact quite the opposite. I know I'll see him again, that he is safe. During our Sunday service last week during the singing I saw, in my mind's eye, if you will, a little boy that looked like Miniorc but not quite. I couldn't focus on that image too long, and I don't know if it was me, merely thinking about what he looked like, or a vision, but it is comforting. As it says in the Bible,<br />
<br />
"The last enemy to be destroyed is death." 1 Corinthians 15:26.<br />
<i><br /></i>
And it is Friday.<br />
Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-18005036267022511772013-04-15T06:19:00.000-06:002013-04-15T06:19:35.179-06:00The Maker's Diet: it makes so much sense.For those of you not familiar with Joel Rubin's <i>The Maker's Diet</i> it's a Creationist lifestyle that parallels the Primal/Paleo lifestyle (they both end up at similar ending points but are based on different premises). I've talked about it but never actually read his book (I think I skimmed it at one point). I'm still not through the whole thing-I read a chapter yesterday filled with terms I hadn't heard before and came out of it knowing only that phytates are bad. The rest of it went over my head.<br />
<br />
The book was written to illustrate Rubin's fight with Crohn's, which he very nearly died from and now has no symptoms of. He tried every diet out there, visited numerous legitimate doctors and also tried numerous quack ones. No one could permanently help him. Once he came across this Biblically-based one he jumped into it feet first and had an amazing transformation. He became convinced that many of our illnesses stem from our modern diet-something which many people nowadays are becoming convinced of, Christian or not. He wrote the book and started a company (blah, forgot the name and the book is in my kitchen and I'm not in my kitchen ...) in order to help people who had issues that weren't being fully treated by modern medical practices (he does emphasize that the medical world is very necessary, especially emergency care, but that adequate preventative care is almost non-existent).<br />
<br />
What I find fascinating is the plan's basis on Scripture. Not just Genesis-there is a diet out there called based on that book but I found it unlivable-but the entirety of the Old Testament. The emphasis is on the foods God made for us: vegetables, fruit, dairy from cows or goats, seeds, legumes, fermented stuff, and kosher meats. Rubin points out that the ancient Israelites were spared from many of the diseases that plagued people groups around them (unless they were actively ignoring God, which did happen frequently) due to the advanced hygiene instructions (for the time, and they even apply to modern times) that God had given them. He goes into quite a bit of detail, delving into different academic realms to illustrate his point (i.e. anthropology and archaeology). <i>That</i> part of the book I totally understood.<br />
<br />
One thing that both Damm and I won't be giving up, and which Rubin proposes one should, is caffeine. I drink two cups daily and then switch to decaf. It's not that I couldn't live without caffeine-I could, and have-but that it's part of my morning ritual. Damm simply isn't going to give up caffeine. Another thing which he cautions against is tattoos, but his approach is different from any I've heard before. He cautions against them because of possible blood infections (which definitely can happen if you don't use a reputable and responsible artist) and possible nerve damage of tattooed skin. It's too late for me, and his advice probably wouldn't have stopped me anyway, but it's very interesting.<br />
<br />
So I'm excited. I love Mark Sisson's blog and will continue to read it (and other Primal/Paleo sites), but I simply cannot agree with his starting point (which is basically that humans evolved from a non-human state). Rubin's stance is that we were wonderfully created with loving detail by God, as He said in His word, and that I agree with (not trying to preach here, but it is what I believe, and I would be remiss if I did not write about it).Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-15394412224259188962013-04-05T05:52:00.001-06:002013-04-05T05:52:31.932-06:00I have found yet another side effect to having had a MC (not sad, just frustrating). Paleo diet, anyone?I mean, other than the emotional and physical weirdness that occurs and that is completely normal. What I didn't expect was to suddenly gain three pounds and then not be able to take it off. I'm currently nine pounds heavier than I was pre-Cayden.<br />
<br />
At this point if I expressed my angst most people would say not to worry about it, that I've been through a trauma and it just takes a while to go back to normal. I know this. It doesn't really help. For me, and I'm sure for countless others, getting back to normal, whatever that was for you, is a way of reasserting control in a situation that is out of your control. So it is hard to accept that yet another thing is not up to you, <i>especially</i> when you've had eating disorders in the past like I have (which is another way of trying to assert control over something). I won't return to those habits-God pulled me out of that way of life for a reason-and fortunately I have a set pattern of how to lose weight to return to: the paleo lifestyle.<br />
<br />
I've done more reading on the subject and found some new blogs, new perspectives. Did you know you can subsist entirely on <a href="http://theprimalparent.com/2011/11/07/years-eating-raw-meat/" target="_blank">raw meat</a>? Peggy the Primal Parent (who wrote the blog) is absolutely fascinating. I read about her experiences eating paleo during pregnancy and came away truly inspired. Of course, being inspired doesn't really help when you're in the throes of morning sickness (I'm not, but I keep on reading about this stuff. Haven't truly let go yet.). I've hit the <a href="http://whole9life.com/" target="_blank">whole9life</a> website (the co-founder is pregnant and also writing about her experiences) and have started reading Mark Sisson's blog posts again (for awhile I couldn't read about meat. It was almost as bad as smelling it). And I've returned to my old favorite foods: eggs, bacon, eggs and bacon. With a few other things on the side.<br />
<br />
We've also decided to be outside as often as possible. We bought an annual pass to a nearby park and have gone hiking there (photos of the Miniorc and Orclette hiking up a storm coming soon). We've continued walking to our favorite coffee place (about a four-mile round trip). My parents and I have taken our cool new jogging stroller (it's awesome-I'll take photos of it some day) out into the desert for some resistance training <i>and</i> my little container garden is coming along nicely. I'll take photos of that as well one of these days.<br />
<br />
So, happy Friday. I'm always excited when this day comes around, because it means I get to #1 sleep in and #2 play outside. I think I had some sort of Vitamin D deficiency this winter because my cravings for sunshine have been pretty strong and I found it necessary to supplement. I might also need to buy some sunscreen that isn't expired ...<br />
<br />
<br />Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-29180969363801237452013-03-29T05:25:00.003-06:002013-03-29T05:25:32.012-06:00Our night with the arrested dudes. Or rather, in the ER.Have I shared the story of how I took the Miniorc to the ER for the worst diaper rash case in history? He had just been born. My mother and I were exhausted (Damm was in AIT) and perhaps not thinking entirely rationally. He had been uncomfortable, crying and not sleeping. When my mom changed his diaper she saw blood, so of course we were in full emergency mode. I had no idea who to call so we went to the ER, where we found out it was a diaper rash. While we were there, though, we got to experience the antics of someone completely drunk or high (not sure which) who was bursting through room doors all over the ER. I had gone to the bathroom so it was just my mom and her newborn grandson when he came through our door. I don't think she's viewed that ER in the same benevolent way again.<br />
<br />
Anyway, back to the present time. Damm has been having excruciating headaches. He described it as a 10 on that 1-10 scale (hah. Sorry love, I've been through labor, and they told me my pain <i>couldn't</i> be a 10). Then yesterday he began to get dizzy, numb and also nauseous so he scheduled a doctor's appointment. She told him to go to the ER so we dutifully went and prepared to wait. And wait. And wait. I decided I had been quite spoiled by the many times I had brought the Orclette or Miniorc here, as they had been given a room immediately. When we finally were brought back, we got to share the room with a rather dubious looking character and his police escort. By the end of the hour I could tell his story better than he could, since he seemed to be on something and got various words confused (and he kept repeating the same things). He also broke down crying every five minutes or so. Fun, yes? And he wasn't the only one being escorted. The ER we frequent (and I do mean frequent; I recognized many of the personnel) seems to be where the police bring the ones needing medical attention.<br />
<br />
At this point Damm finally was sent to various rooms to be tested. They did pretty much everything, and then we waited anxiously, since his symptoms could describe any number of things, many of them scary. When our PA came in and said he knew exactly what was wrong he almost looked jolly. I wondered if maybe he didn't get to give good news very often? Turns out all Damm had was sinusitis. His right sinus cavity is <i>completely</i> blocked/and infected. He's been put on steroids and antibiotics and we're hoping that maybe we've discovered the root cause of the fatigue he's been feeling, since he's not been able to breath out of his nose for years and sinus troubles can cause that.<br />
<br />
So that was our fun and entertaining night in the ER. Not quite how I had envisioned spending my afternoon/evening, but now that Damm knows what's wrong he's relaxed (he had, as I'm sure many of us do when we have strange symptoms, convinced himself that something was <i>seriously</i> wrong) and we have good insurance to pay for the many expensive tests he underwent. And I have an amusing anecdote about the man who kept telling the police officer his life's story over and over for more than three hours.<br />
<br />
<br />Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-85717641928048077952013-03-19T05:33:00.002-06:002013-03-19T05:33:59.781-06:00Continuing on.Did you know that Mary, mother of Jesus, personally takes care of the babies in heaven? The Orclette informed me of this fact a couple of weeks ago. It startled us at first-not being raised Catholic, we simply didn't talk or hear about Mary other than at Christmas-but then we agreed. Who knows? And her statement was beautiful, since she merely assumed that Jesus, who loves us, would want his own mama to take care of Cayden since we couldn't. She's come up with a few other tear-inducing observations as well, and also a song, which I had to ask her to stop singing. We had just visited his grave and I simply was not able to handle the refrain of "I love you Cayden". But it too was beautiful.<br />
<br />
And here we are, nearly one month afterwards. We are back in our routines and it has helped. The concerned looks and hugs from people have stopped, which is good, since now I'm not prepared to handle them. I veer wildly from joyful to depressed with little warning. I've had a few panic attacks; nothing too serious, I've always been able to talk myself down from them. I've read that this is normal and due to hormonal fluctuations, which is reassuring, since it means that it will eventually stop. In a way this inconsistent emotional state is worse than continual grief, since I have no bulwark prepared for it.<br />
<br />
And what truly has helped are these little guys, who need a somewhat stable parental unit:<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ18_zKFM_1Gx_BVrvPxLVWd7Me54sbnWeJncCK67Ty1TUnkvVHkUOPisBe-qnBzhKhgOkxnFijf2d6X3ofFRSoZBi4w9oQcCn-UHhNB_7BrkCO9l64mq6WympQX6AobADn6TyB5ahw_8/s1600/photo+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ18_zKFM_1Gx_BVrvPxLVWd7Me54sbnWeJncCK67Ty1TUnkvVHkUOPisBe-qnBzhKhgOkxnFijf2d6X3ofFRSoZBi4w9oQcCn-UHhNB_7BrkCO9l64mq6WympQX6AobADn6TyB5ahw_8/s320/photo+(6).JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSddy8L3odIDpjMHyOoZ2Fl66wLCxxxwlvlOk9WeEORowOZ2lExPUGl4uwnlcmm3CmeU38GzREmLFdBeuQKfMTkYmFZOckXMdTm839XOmgUd9djkC7xsfvFjjHMmXg8_hoHEhu1crMS2v/s1600/photo+(8).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSddy8L3odIDpjMHyOoZ2Fl66wLCxxxwlvlOk9WeEORowOZ2lExPUGl4uwnlcmm3CmeU38GzREmLFdBeuQKfMTkYmFZOckXMdTm839XOmgUd9djkC7xsfvFjjHMmXg8_hoHEhu1crMS2v/s320/photo+(8).JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Writing thank you cards to their great-grandma, which probably didn't get sent out given the events that occurred after these were made)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-31227057151311579382013-03-11T10:02:00.001-06:002013-03-11T10:02:16.142-06:00This mornings drawing finished<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTpZtPgf7C039uRRMUe2PD1xRN_bRjI8VmPpFsvuBP6Lxk15Z3N_6tDyDt3kt9NzcuWXyVrchBfAvPTn2O0HqfjuHSAePXHt3bhQ4Y0tsF0M_cvmc8idMx1JUZD9O6hwd4jTnJvLe9Wtr/s1600/2013-03-11_10-00-21_806.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTpZtPgf7C039uRRMUe2PD1xRN_bRjI8VmPpFsvuBP6Lxk15Z3N_6tDyDt3kt9NzcuWXyVrchBfAvPTn2O0HqfjuHSAePXHt3bhQ4Y0tsF0M_cvmc8idMx1JUZD9O6hwd4jTnJvLe9Wtr/s640/2013-03-11_10-00-21_806.jpg' /> </a> </div>Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-23804514833064041122013-03-11T08:23:00.001-06:002013-03-11T08:23:08.786-06:00While waiting at school... <div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0qrQEEE2knE9bkhJImfMMHEZqqOT4Uq9hLC3Zvl-KmJBfXVBm4SFDTH5qbgt19S58O1jFS21WLmNgpXz2tG3OM2orrN_gOti6gBUzv3E0bUPDiil4cQiQkxyIRTDbxavkc7ZlnKZFsK1/s1600/2013-03-11_08-20-21_11.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0qrQEEE2knE9bkhJImfMMHEZqqOT4Uq9hLC3Zvl-KmJBfXVBm4SFDTH5qbgt19S58O1jFS21WLmNgpXz2tG3OM2orrN_gOti6gBUzv3E0bUPDiil4cQiQkxyIRTDbxavkc7ZlnKZFsK1/s640/2013-03-11_08-20-21_11.jpg' /> </a> </div>Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-13902082915000254022013-03-10T15:59:00.003-06:002013-03-10T15:59:48.167-06:00Notes taken at church<img height="640" src="https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/u/0/?ui=2&ik=ee200dee89&view=att&th=13d55a1d2b981ed4&attid=0.1&disp=inline&realattid=1429147541611479040-1&safe=1&zw&saduie=AG9B_P96TOHK2Bin_Vi72VFm7D14&sadet=1362952756418&sads=qOghN5fwjVid_3ToaryKRLG2VM8" width="360" />Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-20886526985706933052013-03-08T07:32:00.000-07:002013-03-08T07:32:13.394-07:00Threads.As you may have surmised from the previous post our third child has preceded us to heaven. At our thirteen week appointment they couldn't find a heartbeat. They rushed me into the ultrasound room to take a closer look. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do, since I knew I was looking at my dead baby. Damm wasn't there; we hadn't had any inkling of anything being wrong so I thought it was just going to be a routine, in-and-out thing. It was a Tuesday. Friday we went into the hospital so they could induce me. I asked for another ultrasound, not because I thought they were wrong but because I knew I would have nightmares if I didn't make sure. Once again, no movement, no blood flow, no heartbeat.<br />
<br />
So they put the little pills in and we settled down to wait. Once the pain hit I asked for drugs because I didn't want to feel anything. For six hours Damm and I sat together, trying not to feel or think. Then my water broke and I did too. All the emotions I had tried to control became uncontrollable. I asked Damm to read verses to me from the Bible about heaven. Then our midwife came in and was able to pull the baby out. I asked to see, dreading it but knowing I needed to. I think that was another worst moment; I vaguely remember sobbing the words "Oh God" and then "don't let me drop him" (they were able to determine it was a boy" as they gave him to me to hold. We took pictures, they took pictures and it's something I don't think I will ever share. He was perfect; I could see all ten minuscule fingers and toes. Then they left us to recover and to monitor my condition. An hour or so later I asked to see Cayden again. I hadn't been able to say I loved him or say goodbye when I had first held him. They brought him in, four inches long and weighing barely anything wrapped in a little knit hand towel. We said goodbye, I said I loved him, and then I asked them to take his body away. Once they determined everything was ok with me they discharged us. I asked for an Ambien so I wouldn't dream.<br />
<br />
Then another few days of torture began. We scheduled his funeral for the following Thursday. Dreams, horrible ones, haunted me and I didn't want to sleep. I didn't feel like I could properly grieve until after the funeral. The day of the funeral I held myself together remarkably well. It was very small, very beautiful and just what I wanted. The baby area looks like a butterfly garden. That night the dreams stopped; I knew Cayden was safe in heaven and also safe on earth. The grieving, the kind that only time can try to subdue, has just begun.<br />
<br />
People ask me how I am. I say I'm functional. Really, though, only Tolkien suffices:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep...that have taken hold.” </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/656983.J_R_R_Tolkien" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">J.R.R. Tolkien</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2964424" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">The Return of the King</a></i>Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-2918213001532240042013-02-19T16:57:00.000-07:002013-02-19T16:57:09.846-07:00Caoilfhionn Cayden Wauson<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Caoilfhionn meant Fair.
Cayden meant Fighter. But for the
rest of my life Caoilfhionn Cayden will mean the sound the desert makes when it
cries for you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn’t get a chance to meet you.
I didn’t get a moment to greet you.
I never held you in my arms. I
miss you though I never knew you. I weep
though I never heard you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">God, take my child with you.
Raise my child like I never got to.
Teach my child like I wanted to.
Love my child like I do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Caoilfhionn Cayden Wauson </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Born in heaven but not on Earth.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-65867294415716675632013-02-18T00:00:00.001-07:002013-02-18T00:00:09.086-07:00Frontier Letters(Story)<i>This is intended to be a drawn out story told through the correspondence of a young soldier on the frontier. The grammar is intentionally bad for a multitude of reasons. One because I am not taking the time to check it. Two because the soldier isn't supposed be well versed in letters. Three because of One. Hopefully unlike all my other projects this one will actually proceed and not end up unfinished.</i><br />
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear mum, 17
February 23</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I arrived in Friendless yesterday evening. there is not much here. just a few streets and then the
barracks. I have been assigned to the
third boat squad of A company and will be patrolling as soon as tomorrow. They issued me a rifle, a uniform and 2
canteens. I am expected to provide my
own knife and like I mentioned before I left I will be being paid 13 silvers a
month.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not entirely
sure that the Sgt even knows I am here but he at least pointed me to a cot to
sleep on and told me where the privies are.
It is weird. Because there is
water everywhere the whole town sits up on stilts and everything has a wet damp
moist feel to it. At the same time tough
it might as well be a desert. We have to
import drinkable water from a nearby safe-spring and we never know if we will
run out. there are extreme precautions
made regarding out water supply and many of us are assigned guard duty
throughout the night to prevent sabotage.
Outside of water and ammo the only concern is making sure the boats are
maintained and that we keep the town secure.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Besides soldiers there are I guess about 100 civilians in
this town. So when you add the three
companies and the supply folk at the fort we might get 300 souls total in the
area.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The enemy won’t attack such a number directly I am told but
I’m repeatedly assured that they will quickly attack us whenever they can once
we leave the safety of “shore” and patrol the deeper waters or thicker forests.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each of them holds a different set of challenges. In the deeper water areas there are “things”
that live under the water and if disturbed will rise and attack boats. On the other hand in the thick forest areas
the trees are close enough together as to block our visibility and force us to
get within touching distance of the branches, which holds the danger of vermin,
ambushes, and man-eating vines.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But don’t worry. I
know that only 3-4 soldiers are lost each month and that if I keep my head down
and follow orders I will make out all right.
Two years out here and I can save enough to go to school and become a
doctor like you always wanted me to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With lots of love and respect,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pvt. Karold </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3<sup>rd</sup> Squad A/32/8<sup>th</sup> River </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear mum, 24 February 23</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last week went well.
I went on several short patrols and am getting comfortable maneuvering
the boat and keeping in formation. I
haven’t seen anyone die or get lost since I’ve gotten here and in fact am
starting to think that everything will go extra well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is difficult to realize how thirsty you are getting
because everything is so moist and foggy here but if you don’t remember to
drink water regularly you can just pass out.
It happened to me once that I started to get dizzy but Corporal Dawson
noticed it and beat me soundly for not drinking regularly. I have since made it a habit to drink every
half hour.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The water around Friendless is so ugly and foul that I
cannot imagine why anyone would want to live here much less why our nation
desires to protect it. Everything I own
is perpetually damp and I really miss seeing the sun or clouds. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am supposed to go on a longer two day patrol next week to
investigate one of the so called “tree ponds”.
They are not really ponds but are places where the tree roots have grown
so close together that they make natural little valleys or ponds above the
water where you can get fresh water and can make camp without fear of falling
into the water. Several smugglers have
made allegations that it is being used by the rebels as a base of operations
and they are sending a company out to investigate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am eager to find and fight the enemy and also to get past
the “newbie stage”. They have been
breaking in our company because we are the “new company”. So we don’t get to go on the long patrols and
see action. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With lots of love and respect,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pvt. Karold </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3<sup>rd</sup> Squad A/32/8<sup>th</sup> River </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p>Dear mum, 3 Mar 23</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still haven’t seen combat
yet, but have now seen a man die. We
were returning from a fruitless search of the treepond when our scout spotted a
trail in the water. We adjusted course
and in the process Pvt Umbrage took his skiff too close to a low hanging branch
and the vines just reached out and grabbed him.
The men nearest him quickly pulled up and cut him free using their
bayonets but by the time he was free the poison set in and he was starting to
turn purplish orange.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Lt said there was
nothing that could be done for him and they shot him and towed his skiff back
to Friendless. We had a brief ceremony
at the Chapel and then put him on the pyre and sent his body to join his
soul. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was shocking how quick he
changed from a living person to a dead thing.
The other soldiers have assured me over and over that although the
poison would have taken several hours to kill him it would have been extremely
painful and there is absolutely no cure for it after that point. I have resolved to memorized the signs for
the deadly vines and will commit myself to avoiding them even when caught up in
the excitement of the hunt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A small package of his
effects was compiled to be mailed to his family along with a letter from the
Lt. As for his weapons and ammo they were
split among the rest of us as evenly as possible with an eye towards the ones
who need particular items. I received his
bayonet as my rifle did not have one.
His skiff will be set aside for the next batch of new recruits.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am grateful that it wasn’t
me but feel bad that it happened and feel bad that I’m happy it wasn’t me. I am no longer so blissfully positive about
my time here and desire that you pray for me at every opportunity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With lots of love and respect,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pvt. Karold </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3<sup>rd</sup> Squad A/32/8<sup>th</sup> River </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p>Dear mum, 10 Mar 23</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were shot at this week a
couple of times on patrol. No one was
wounded but one skiff was holed and had to be towed back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first time I simply dove
for cover on my skiff and although I was thinking desperately of what I should
do I found myself frozen unmoving when the last shots faded away. Corporal Dawson gave me a firm thumping for
my lack of action that night and I swore to make certain I remedied that fact
in the next engagement.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The second time I spun and
fired blindly towards the sound of the shot.
Repeatedly. Once again I received
corrective guidance from Dawson as I had apparently been stupidly wasteful of
precious ammo. In this case however the
Scouts were able to recover a trail and we followed it for about six hours to
no avail.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I cannot see how they can
follow a “trail” left on water but they have demonstrated it repeatedly without
failure around the waters close to Friendless and I’ve been regaled many times
about their superb tracking abilities by the other soldiers here at the
barracks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I finally received the first
of your letters, the one dated from January.
There is about an 8 week delay in sending and receiving letters and I
can see that you sent it while I was still in the Basic Rivermans course.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am glad to hear about Ole
Clever and hope you and the family continue to enjoy the springtime
weather. Say hi to the Sun for me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do not know when I will
next be able to write as we are preparing for a longer expedition and I may be
gone all week long but be assured I will remedy that with my next correspondence.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With lots of love and respect,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pvt. Karold </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3<sup>rd</sup> Squad A/32/8<sup>th</sup> River </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Dammerunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02314741182179848942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8815887911092676043.post-67267833530393613662013-02-08T05:30:00.000-07:002013-02-08T05:30:32.847-07:00Creating life is hard.And I'm not really creating it, just observing as my body does what it was created to do. We are out of the first trimester, into the second. I really, really need to go by the doc's office and get the drug testing done that they now require before my next appointment. I don't want any funny looks. And when did drug testing become a normal thing? And why do I have to go to a <i>separate</i> office? <i>This</i> is why you forego all doctor's appointments til you're eight months pregnant (like I did with Miniorc, although it wasn't by choice) and then they panic and only make you come to appointments. No blood testing, no wandering around the HUMONGOUS complex trying to find room numbers. Stupid heads.<br />
<br />
So some pregnant bloggers I read do this picture posting thing every week of how big they're getting. I won't be doing that. It weirds me out when people merely observe that I'm "showing" now. I still feel like they're somehow calling me fat or that they have x-ray vision and they're peering into my insides. Not logical, but what do you expect? And I really hope you weren't expecting a cohesive, logical blog post because right now I'm incapable of making one. Words are hard too, especially if people expect you to put them into the right order. Fortunately I live and work with people who are good at guessing.<br />
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I have gained two pounds. I'm tracking this time because I've gained quite a lot in the past and I want to see if I can keep it down to what they deem "normal". Don't worry, I'm not being crazy and dieting or exercising fanatically. And I'm aware that I do have to gain some weight. Why do people always freak out when a pregnant person mentions she's trying not to gain too much? Especially if that person has already admitted that she gained 50-60 pounds both pregnancies? Obviously we are not dealing with someone who doesn't want to eat. But no, freak outs happen. "You're eating for TWO! You HAVE to GAIN WEIGHT! NO DIETING!"<br />
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I'm stuck with books that are like Terry Pratchett's and movies/shows that are like <i>The Big Bang Theory</i>. I am too empathetic when I'm not pregnant to deal with anything serious when I am. I did laugh when one blogger I read (<a href="http://www.sortacrunchy.net/sortacrunchy/2013/02/twins.html" target="_blank">SortaCrunchy</a>, she's great) wrote about how emotional she was and how she had to turn off <i>Dexter</i> because it got too bad. And I think she's still watching <i>Once Upon A Time</i>. I can't touch those shows with a ten-foot pole, especially <i>Dexter</i>. I guess that means I'm super-empathetic. It's all those history classes. Too many things that they do in entertainment shows have been done in real life for me to find them amusing anymore. On the other hand, if you follow that link and read about how <i>Les Mis</i> was too much for her, I had no difficulty sitting through <i>Les Mis</i>, because the young men were completely idiotic AND Eponine should have gotten the stupid young man she fancied. I say idiotic and stupid because their plan to overthrow the monarchy was laughable and their reading of the mood of the French people completely wrong. And Cosette had no personality whatsoever.<br />
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Anyway, that's enough rambling from me. If you didn't understand something don't worry, I get that a lot. Usually I can tell by the facial expression. It gets that slightly confused and desperate look that doesn't want to upset the pregnant lady by letting her know she said something unintelligible.<br />
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Have a great weekend!<br />
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<br />Beowulfahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08401458930362134682noreply@blogger.com1