Anywhere but here? Where would I go?
I read the topic for the assignment on Writing 101 and my first thought was to my grandparent’s cabin in the Sierra Nevada mountain. Up the creek to where the water tanks are. To a world where the water tumbles down pink granite into eddies and pools and fountains of slippery, cold mountain water. Where the water has worn away the granite so perfectly it looks like a fine stone mason has been smoothing and carving away to make perfect dips and holes in the rock for the water to slide over in a constant rippling, tumbling motion. Where moss grows on the water’s edge and long stringy and slimy strands of green algae make its home. Where caddis fly ‘shells’ are buried in the sand and water skeeters (striders) skip across tranquil ponds. Where the sun shines down bright and hot from a sky so blue it could only be made up. Where the heat bakes the Jeffrey, Ponderosa, and Sugar Pines till all you can smell is cold water and hot, hot, sweet resin. Burning to a bright red in the sun, but cooling off in icy mountain water. A water feature that could never be created by man.
I can smell the pine and mountain air that is only caught high up there. The smell is burned into my mind and I miss it every year.
But I would also go to my favorite bookstore. Bookends is a small town bookstore where the owner Mia Brooks has a bell above the door that jangles the moment you step inside. Then you hear the music she has playing and you see her standing at her large wood counter right there in front of you. And she has gorgeous wood shelves behind her filled with her store supplies. On the counter she has an antique cash register she only uses for the most important clientele (the children). To the left is an L-shaped staircase that leads up to her office and the adult books, and you can see this as there is this balcony slash gallery above the shop; open to the store below. Also to the left is the way to the coffee shop next door that is accessed by french doors. and in the L-shape to the right of the stairs is her wood stove with a gold screen around it to keep little hands from burning themselves.
To the right is a large opening to her reading room, which is elegant and all Mia since this room houses Mia’s private collection of books. You can’t buy the books from here, but you can ‘borrow’ them, pulling them off the shelves to read while you sit back in one of her leather arm chairs, though I prefer the Queen Anne chair covered in antique rose brocade. The wood floor is covered in gorgeous Persian rugs and all the shelves are built in walnut. Dark and full of old and new books, but mostly old. The chairs sit next to large windows looking out on the small town.
Travel back from the main counter, behind the wall of her shelves, you find the rest of the store filled with sections of books. And you can’t forget the room she has behind the wall of the front. This room is where she stores her music. A small room that has a very high end stereo system, including a record player. You can play anything you like and the music will be piped into the store. She listens to everything, though her tastes match the seasons. She loves to play The Nutcracker Ballet in December.
Her store is a world unto itself…. Partly because her store isn’t real. Well, it’s real in my mind. This store is created for Mia as I try to write her story. Since I can’t seem to get her story written, at least she has her store to continue working in while I figure out what I want to say about her.
Bookends; a store that is real but unreal.
Those two places are where I would go if I could.
Christian Hendricks has recently gone from bombshell redhead to bombshell blonde. Trading in her ‘fake’ red hair for a new golden blonde look that is supposed to remind her of her childhood. Christina Hendricks is known best for Joan on Mad Men. With her classic look of confident secretary and all around girl Friday, in more ways than one….I feel like I should insert a “wink wink” feeling there. Because even if you don’t know much about Mad Men, which I don’t because I don’t watch the show, just take a quick bing or google search on her and you can find all kinds of stuff. Mostly her affair, and a sexy one at that, with Roger. And who wouldn’t want to have an affair with Roger. I mean, he is a stunningly handsome man. Don’t get me started on his clearly obvious chauvanistic side. I think that was de riger for the 60’s.
But Christina is one of those classic looking bombshells. A body that is clearly curvy and svelte, and vivacious, and sexy. She is the Marilyn Monroe of today. I somewhat envy her. The ability to look so sexy and to have those curves and a voice that makes you tingle. Womanly enough to know what’s going on, but girlish enough to show the vulnerable side.
I feel a lot more like a little girl despite being one month from turning 33. I do not have a curvacious body and part of me is okay with that. I’m not saying I don’t have my curves, but they are more slimming. I don’t have a ton of extra weight on me, not that I’m thin. It’s all in how you view me, I suppose.
And it reminds me of something I just listened to by Adam La Dolce about how every girl has a guy that likes her type. You are somebodies type, for which I can say, thank God, because I sometimes feel like I’m nobody’s type. Oh sure, I have guys that show interest, but I’ve had lots of guys show interest, but I’m thinking their intentions are more of a quick lay. Sounds horrible, but that’s just an opinion since I have been hit on by men in there 60’s back when I was in my early 20’s. I seem to attract this unsavory element of men. I wonder if I looked like Christina, if I would have the same thing or worse? Maybe I would be hit on more. Or maybe I would be more confident to look down my nose and say, “Yeah right, buddy. Do you really think I’m interested in you?”
Who knows. I’m not Christina, and honestly I’m kind of disappointed she has decided to convert to being a blonde. I thought she was rather unique in her red headed-ness. There aren’t too many redheads in Hollywood. Other than Amy Adams and Isla Fisher, I can’t think of anyone else. And I kind of want to see this sexy redhead doing a really amazing role. Not just a secretary come part owner… (I really know very little about the show, so I can’t say what exactly she does on Mad Men) I want to see her in this incredibly inspiring role because I want to see a woman who is bombshell sexy being in a strong role. I’m tire dof seeing a lot of women in a strong role, but being more boyish. I’m not saying anything is wrong with that, but I am a woman who wants to be a woman, and I want to see women being uber sexy.
I don’t feel I’m super sexy, but I like to think I have enough femininity to be considered sexy. I like my girly side. I like all the things women get to indulge in from the nails and hair products to the jewelry and lacy underthings. The sensual perfumes and eye enhancing makeups. Give me the women’s products section of a store, IE Raleys, and I want to putter around for ages. I love all things girly.
My new fascination has been hair ties, and different nail products, and pin curls. But my pin curls fascination has been a few years in coming. I wonder what Christina would look like in a pin curl set? Put her back in the 20’s or 30’s with that look. Course svelte was not the style from the 20’s. Just look at Downton Abbey with their straight style and boyish figures. But I guess you could do some period piece with her. And I’m always thinking period pieces now because of Downton Abbey and my new love of anything British from the early 1900s through the mid 30s. Especially from World War 1. Ooh, she could play a nurse on the front…. Okay, maybe not. I can’t see her as really doing that. Maybe working in the war office…..
Well, she’s gone blonde. I think I might miss her red hair.
(Side note, this is my free write for day one of Writing 101. I’m not sure if this is exactly right, but it was kind of freeing to just jabber on and say what I was thinking)
Take one klutzy advice columnist turned reporter with a secret past, mix her with a devilishly handsome, charming cowboy with a secret past, add in a bet gone wild and a touch of instant, explosive attraction, bake with a town that has about as much quirkiness as any romance novel can have, and you have yourself a charming and comedic romance.
Betting on Hope By Debra Clopton has Maggie Hope, advice columnist turned reporter when her friend gets sick right before the interview, traveling to Wishing Springs to interview Tru Monahan, champion horse trainer and rider. City girl meets cowboy and the sparks fly the minute Tru accepts the bet Maggie makes that he can’t teach Maggie to ride a horse. So Maggie has two months to learn to ride a horse and compete in a cutting competition, all while she is seriously afraid of horses, is a serious klutz and has to interview Tru throughout this whole set up. Not to mention a past that is quickly starting to catch up to her and may make her life a lot more messy than it is.
Then there is Tru. Struggling to deal with his past, he keeps a lot bottled up while trying to save the ranch his grandfather started, The Four Hearts Ranch, from bankruptcy with his three other brothers. Now he has to add in teaching a skittish ‘filly’ how to ride while falling in love with her, but not wanting to share a secret that might make a woman turn tail and run. At least in his opinion.
But you have the people of Wishing Springs betting on Maggie and Tru, helping out along the way and nudging these two lovebirds together despite both Maggi and Tru fighting it. Oh, will the cowboy sweep his lady off her feet? Will the Lady accept? Will Maggie learn to trust Tru with her secrets and keep from falling off a horse? What is to become of these two? Oh, but you will have to read it to find out.
As a piece of fluff, Christian romance, this wasn’t bad; not great, but not bad. Silly, and a little ridiculous with the name of the town and the way the townspeople act. (I live in a small town. No one acts like that, nor does it have a whole volunteer fire department filled with sexy men. I wish) I liked Tru and his brothers, but at the same time, the secrets Tru was holding on to made me bang my head and go “Why!?” Yes, he has a past that might make a woman run, but this is where I go, honesty, please. But then the story wouldn’t have been driven the way it was. And Maggie has her own set of fears and secrets that are keeping her from really trusting and connecting with Tru. I was actually worried that this story wouldn’t turn out okay. I thought both the hero and heroine might blow it and not tell each other their history. And that would have been a shame because you could feel the tension and desire in both Tru and Maggie and you just wanted to shout, “Kiss her, already!”
I was left hanging several times with plot lines and the flow of the story. And I was a little disappointed that there was this constant ‘I like you, I can’t have you, but I want you, but I have a secret, but I love you, but I’m not right for you, but, but, but. I would love to read a story where the hero tells his intentions at the beginning then woos the girl. I mean, there was enough of Maggie’s apprehension that you didn’t need to add in Tru’s.
I also want to mention that the theme of klutzy young woman who is not a reporter having to interview someone intimidating struck me as a bit like Fifty Shades of Grey (I have not ‘read’ the book, but I have listened to the first chapter or two.) The similarities there felt very obvious. Maybe it’s me. The plot of the story is much better than Fifty Shades. There really isn’t even a comparison, but I did notice that little bit and found it slightly contrived.
A cutsy, fun read. I’d give it three out of five stars. (personally the best part of the book was the cover illustration.)
This book was graciously provided to me for my honest review by HarperCollins Christian Publishing and BookLookBloggers.
I collect books. You all know that, right? I have too many books, and occasionally I don’t want to just donate them to my library so I have started an Amazon store. Yep, if you look over on the right hand sidebar, you can see my logo for the Amazon site and it will take you right to my ‘bookshelf’. Sometimes I will have books that I have reviewed, along with various other things I pick up from my library. Feel free to check it out. And here is the link Katie Lyn’s Bookshelf
‘Cause you aren’t wearing green,’ he answered.
‘I am too. See?’ and she pointed at her Kelly green eyeshadow.
‘Doesn’t count,’ he said smugly.
‘Well I’m still wearing green,’ she replied with a superior look on her face.
‘Right… Sure you are.’
‘Fine. If you don’t believe me. Turn around,’ she ordered.
‘Turn around.’ She motioned with her hand.
He groaned but did as she ordered.
She giggled, but then she shimmied and gave a wiggle then picked up the bright green scrap of lace.
‘Okay, you can turn around.’ When he did, she held the lace in her hands. ‘See?’
His eyes were wide and he took stock of her black dress and put together appearance. ‘Where the heck was that?’
She gave him a mystifying smile. ‘Oh if only you knew,’ she teased. ‘Now turn back around.’
When he did, a quick shimmy and tug and everything was back as it should be.
‘You can turn back now.’
He did and she giggled as he eyed her up and down trying to figure out where the lace was.
‘Now don’t pinch me again.’
He grinned. ‘Yes ma’am.’
Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone. It was a gorgeous day here but not warm enough for my “Irish Princess” t-shirt. I so wanted to wear it, even if an Irishman holds more Irish in his little pinky than I have in my whole person. I actually do have a touch of Irish in me. Some great-great-great-great-great grandfather or something. Who knows.
Enjoy the bit of flash fiction. And you can decide where the lace came from. I have my own idea, but it’s a bit naughty….
I am - a bad girl Naughty Wicked Evil A wink glints in my eye As I sink pearly teeth Into an ice cream sandwich--- For I am pre-diabetic.
Sometimes being good gets to you, even if your blood glucose meter tells you that you are a bit too high. I have kicked over into pre diabetes and I’m having to be good now. No excess sweets and carbs. Gah, it’s frustrating. Except for the fact that I happen to enjoy the new almond milk I am making. It seems to work better than milk for teas and snacks.
But sometimes you just can’t resist that Klondike ice cream sandwich. Which, by the way, is THE BEST ice cream sandwich ever. Even over those Nestle or Carnation ones. Trust me.
I am such a bad girl. Now don’t bug me. I’m eating.
The future is a foggy mist waiting
And like water it slips through our fingers
Opening drawers of thoughts of waking
A landscape of ideas that will linger
Dare I attempt to write the things over
An elegy here and a ballad there
The ballad first, an elegy slower
Maybe I should just write the prose to compare
Poetry is in my future plans I know
And the past mistakes will fade in time
Time always fades the mistakes I know
New horizons are in the coming rhymes
I shall miss the companions I write with
But life will go on for I am a word smith.
Hello all you wonderful people I connected with in the Commons. This is my last *sob* assignment. A sonnet on the future. What a perfect way to end the course. I attempted to stick with a Shakespearian sonnet in style abab cdcd efef gg, and along with the iambic pentameter. I’m not sure I managed that perfectly, but I have not had a lot of luck with sonnets. (@BenHuberman I knew you were going to throw a sonnet at us!)
I thought it might be nice to include bits of the themes from the past two weeks. Water, fog, drawers, landscape, ballad, elegy…. And I think it actually turned out rather well. I have been wanting to work more with sonnets, especially since reading Edna St. Vincent Millay‘s sonnets this last year. She has some stunning poetry.
I also want to say that one of the best ways to write poetry has been using the McGill Dictionary of Rhyme program. It is this rhyming dictionary with the space to write your poetry. It gives examples, a thesaurus of sorts, and the schematic of certain poetry forms, including sonnets, since there are several variations. You might want to check it out if you are like me and have issues rhyming. That being said, I still use my rhyming dictionary more often, but this is nice.
So, I will probably write one more post on this whole experiance, but for now last assignment down, and what fun this course was.
I think I was limiting myself to what I could write about by using fashion magazines. :P but still, it turned out rather well if I do say so myself. And it was fun snipping and pasting with tweezers… My father said I would be terrible at ransom notes due to fingerprints on all the words…. Well, since I won’t be attempting to ransom something, I should be fine. And I loved finding a landscape picture to paste the words on.
I think of this poem as more of a metaphor. I do have my camera, and the photographs of the country are this story of a landscape. Something to escape and dream about. It’s semi vague, but isn’t all poetry sometimes?
I liked trying to find different sizes and colors. I don’t know if I got the whole theme of enumeratio. Did I use enough “and’s”? I liked starting every other line with one. I’ve been wanting to do this type of found poetry for a while now. Is blackout poetry the same? I kind of think it is. I’ve wanted to do a piece of found poetry using the town bulletin board at the post office. With all its flyers, it’s a treasure trove of found poetry just waiting to happen.
And if you can’t read the poem, here it is again in print.
in my camera the photographs of country light and stunning grace and freedom is a passionate perspective and reaching across the fair northern sky a new direction, a breath of fresh air and spectacular joy and living fall color and strong white light and look to move forward to Fling open the door and see a day of dreams.
Ode To a Wooden Spoon Lying in the dark drawer, but not alone The wooden spoon waits for the moment to come alive Bursting with possibilities in the mixing and stirring In your tireless waiting for mixing don't bemoan You are meant for than mixing and whirring It is in the kitchen you are meant to thrive Oh spoon, you are forgotten with the bamboo But you are lovelier and stronger than most spoons How will I ever exist without your strength as I stir? Ode To a Lace Handkerchief Forgotten lace lies within the scented drawers of oak Scraps of muslin and linen so fine and soft Delicate for a woman's hand or purse Carried in the past by ladies of fine lives evoke Thoughts of Knights past in there bravery were never scoffed A symbol of devotion in song and verse Oh delicate handkerchief you are lowly to some But you hold a touch of gentry to your humbleness And I sing to you and your usefulness in verse
I actually want to keep writing odes to things in my drawers. Now, I am no Keats, who wrote magnificent odes to urns and nightingales, but I think these turned out okay. I was talking odes with my family last night and my father came up with Ode to a Wooden Spoon. I’m not sure this is what he was going for, but I have only so much I can work with.
I was first thinking of handkerchiefs since I use them regularly. I have some lace ones, some quite utilitarian and boring. But they are all rather wonderful. And I wanted to write about sweaters, and jeans, and pencils and scissors, and stamps, and various other things I keep in drawers. Can we do an Ode to a Paperclip? This was fun, and today I checked out some more books on Odes and Ballads and other various poems. I liked poetry enough, but with this Blogging U course, I am full of poetry!!!!
Okay, I’ll calm down.