Beneath a Stormy Sky...

...a fair maiden plays the harp. The tune is sweet, oddly so against the blue green backdrop of sky, and the rushing wind. Yet, it is not jarring or out of place. Instead it is surreal, carrying along the audience as though they are enchanted. A while after the harp playing ceased the storm relented. With the ending of the storm came reality. The crowd ceased to be spellbound and were instead actors and actresses working very hard so they could enchant their audience.

What does any of this have to do with me? Well, I was one of those actresses preparing for the "big" performance. We're doing  Jane Austen's Emma. I get to play the super snotty lady, Mrs. Elton. }:) <-evil face.
Anyway, I was oddly inspired by my friend's harp playing. The whole setting seemed straight out of a faerie tale. A faerie tale, I might add, where it occurred to me I'm really more like the random messenger birds that always appear and give cryptic messages (not in your harmless Disney versions, but in most old faerie tales, there's at least one) than I am like the princess or the fair maiden or anything....

Such odd musings...Pretty much the story of my life. And why do you even care? I'm not sure, you're the one reading this. Why do you care?

Just Brushing Off...

proverbial dust and picking up this blog again. I'm not sure why I picked up now, rather than waiting 'till I had some pictures of my dollhouses to put up, but I suspect it was because I was afraid to loose my resolve to post more frequently if I put it off.
I haven't done too much dollhouse work lately, having been too caught up in my real life work. School, and whatnot. I am, however, in the very beginning stages of building a steampunk style dollhouse. In my limited spare time I have been making, altering, and collecting little accessories for it. Little things like a hat stand, a globe, a lamp, and a parasol.
In pertaining to my other crafts I have been selling jewelry, earrings, in particular at a local crafters' mall. Sales have been slow, but it is still in the early stages and I am hopeful. :) I also sewed a skirt (under the careful watch and guidance of a very talented friend) which turned out alright, but not spectacular. I am also supposed to be knitting some wrist warmers, but I don't enjoy knitting very much and keep setting them aside for "just a little bit" and not picking them up for weeks. :P  
I like to think, though, that all of these crafts and handmade things are rather like thistle shirts. The process of making them is long, and at times difficult, but the end result is spectacular (though perhaps not as spectacular as turning six swans back into people, but nevertheless).

And that is about all I have to say. :P  

Brick, Stone, and...

trowels. Seems random, no? Not really, in my training to be a mason, I'm becoming steadily more familiar with those things. And mortar, LOTS of mortar...all over my clothes. And lots of other things you've probably never heard of. Like line blocks, trigs, and strikers.
What's my point in mentioning this, you ask? Well, just to give you an update on how my masonry class is going. I really like the class itself, and the work. But the classmates? Don't even get me started... To be fair, some of the are actually really nice and hardworking, but that's the minority.
Anyways, today my teacher (let's call him Mr. P, 'kay?), gave us a demonstration on how to cut stone with a chisel. Which was pretty helpful, because when we get out to the house, I'll be laying stone.And while he was hitting the chisel with his mash hammer (which, apparently, isn't for mashing your fingers...or your classmates, for that matter.) all I could think was "Hey, ho, home from work we go."  So, there you have it: a reminder of life's faerie story qualities. :)
 

I apologise...

...for not blogging more frequently. Life has been. You're probably wondering why I left that sentence unfinished. I didn't. Grammatically, I might have, but in real life, there really is nothing else to say. You see I was talking to my Mom a while ago and she was saying how crazy life was, but then she said: "I guess life's always crazy, so there's nothing else to say. Just 'life has been'." Or something to that effect (I can't recall the exact wording, but that seems to be close enough).

So, yeah. The school year is almost upon us and I'm getting ready to start masonry classes (along with co-op classes and all that other 'good' stuff).  I've been cleaning (read: rearranging and leaving messy piles everywhere) my room. I hauled my bed across the room, moved two bookshelves, my desk, my mom's cedar chest, and a few other things.  I like the configuration better, but I'm still not finished.

I've not done too much else worth writing about, as of late. We went to visit relatives and friends, and I had fun on both trips. :) Anyways, with nothing else to right, I'd best finish writing. Otherwise, I'd probably write page after page of absolute nonsense and bore y'all to death. And we wouldn't want that, would we? ;) 

The Overdue Book Collection Agency

It's a short story. And it's about exactly what it sounds like its about. An overdue book collection agency. I wrote in fifteen minutes at creative writing, and its only been through one edit. (As I was typing it up.) So, I'm sure it's not very good. Well, enjoy anyways!
~~

I opened the file and double-checked the address against, the house number before me. This was definitely it.

“Alright,” I muttered, “Ready to go.” I reached up, and knocked. Tap-tap, the sound was genteel and sinister, simultaneously. Perfect. When the door opened I glanced past the man opening it to the mountains of books in the living room behind him.

“Yes?” He asked gruffly.

“Ah, yes, hello. I’m from the Overdue Book Collection Agency.”

“There ain’t no overdue books here.” He shifted nervously, as though attempting to hide the mountains of books from sight.

“Don’t lie to me.” I spoke as though to a ornery child, “I can see the books I’m looking for just behind you.”

“Well, maybe that’s true, but ya can’t do a thing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I informed him calmly, “I know you’re running a black-market book operation here, and unless you want the police involved...” I trailed off, letting my words sink in.  As he shifted, some more, clearly nervous, I continued “Either you bring me those books or I come and take them by force.”

He grinned, “You and whose army, exactly?”

“Mine, actually.” I turned and indicated my carefully assembled team. Dressed in all black and wielding airsoft guns Dani, Will, and Ryan, looked very convincing. (It helped that Will was grinning evilly and rubbing his hands together.)

The man gulped, loudly, “Here ya can have ‘em!” He practically threw the books at me and slammed the door.

Grinning, I skipped down the steps and tossed the books into the bed of our, conveniently, black pickup. “Alright, peoples, two more houses to go.” Still grinning, we piled in and set off.

~~

Well, tell me what y'all think, 'kay? 'Kay. 

Horseback Riding

Some people think it's scary. But it's not. Really. It's the unexpected journey from the back of the horse to the ground that's scary. And even that's not that scary. More like startling. Of course, by this point you're probably wondering "but isn't that painful?" (and therefore scary). The journey? Painful? Not so much. It's the moment when you find yourself becoming intimately acquainted with the ground that's painful.
  
      So you can probably guess what happened at my lesson today. Emma (the horse) spooked right at the beginning, and seeing as we were riding bareback I made that lovely little journey from horseback to ground. The ground was unusually hard. If you don't believe me, go sit on something a little under,oh, five feet or so and fall off sideways. (For the full effect do this in the arena at the barn where I take lessons.) 

       Hmm, I wonder in fairy (or faerie) tales I wonder how often Prince Charming unwittingly dumps Princess Whatever off his horse as they ride off into the sunset. Has anyone ever read (or better yet, written?) a fairy tale where this happened? Just wondering.

      Well, I'll not be riding off into the sunset but a nice relaxing night's sleep on a soft mattress seems to be in order. So long!

Mucking About

You may have noticed. I've been fiddling with the template, font, ect., on my blog which has lead to some, ah, odd conglomerations of styles. My apologies. Hopefully, the end result will fix everything. Or it'll just be an epic disaster...

Speaking of epic disasters you should see the chemistry lab I just finished. Somehow, our calculations of how many calories were in a serving of nuts were, well, rather far off. Far enough off, anyway, that I wonder how we didn't notice. Perhaps, because we're just that clueless? I mean, most people would notice that your average serving of peanuts is not going to have 8,000+ calories in it. Granted, that's 800+ Calories, but still...  

Anyway, I haven't got anything epic and inspiring to say, so I may as well quit writing now. Toodles!