Authors of Inspiration

I've been thinking lately about the people in life that inspire, encourage and support you. It seems as though I have a lot of them. They have changed my life, I honestly no idea where I'd be now with out their influence. As I think about the top five most influential I can't believe what my minds eye sees!

With my birthday drawing closer the family has asked for my wish list, which I gladly supplied (I mean think about it, a chance to get free stuff all wrapped up!). But now that I think about it I could easily go on without those things if I could have just one thing....Those that love me to be close (But seeing as I enjoy my space I'd have to add not too close!). These people are seen as "normal" to the world, but the things that they have taught me and the examples that they have set for me have had an astronomical on my character! Of coarse there has been times when I've been forgotten at a store, chastised for being lazy, and had rotten apples thrown at me. But they still seem like perfect people to me.

1. Mom, she's been there from the beginning! (In more ways than one). She's one of my biggest cheerleaders. I don't know if it comes with being a mom or if it a special talent that she has but she has always been very intuitive about my needs, especially spiritually. According to my mom my purpose was clear from the beginning. She saw that I needed literature. I can't remember a time when my mom hasn't read to me. We been through a lot together and yet she's still there to cheer me on. She is the best example of faith that I have in my life and I'm so thankful that she's mine.
2. Dad, Wow. I could leave it there but I wont. The only guy in life for the most part. He is the most open minded person, the smartest guy I could have asked for. He loves to see his girls learn and expand their talents. He does a lot to help us in our efforts and is very honest. I love him and find it impossible to think of life without him.
   
3. Sisters. What else hurts you, loves you, gives you advise, and still manages to steal your clothing, while you love them? Without my sisters I'd have more chap-stick and less necklaces. They are my little fan club. They are the group of girls that watches chick flicks with me. They give me their most honest and sometimes (What am I saying? Most of the time!) brutal opinions about my writing. (Thanks to them I don't think that a publishers mean words will hurt.) I love all of my sisters and I'm so grateful for them, their different personalities, and for all of the times that they've made me laugh until it hurt.
4. Sandra. She was the lady that saved me from rebelling when I was nine (okay so the rebellion probably wouldn't have been huge, but she definitely guided me to higher roads). She taught me how to knit and helped me understand Shakespeare. There were innumerable times when we'd discuss the importance of a having a Darcy, or my personal favorite "What makes Darcy so amazing?!" She's the only lady I know that shared my opinions about Jane Austen and The Importance of Being Earnest. She guided my thoughts from Dreamland to Hopeful Reality. (We still had our moments where we would day dream together). She is in the ranks of best friend still! It's funny to watch the two of us walk through a store, two best friends, one a young teenage girl and a adult laughing like little girls and sharing the same understanding on most topics.
5. My Teacher. I know he's probably counting down the days for my graduation but to me he's an invaluable friend and mentor. I have absolutely no idea what he thought of me when he interviewed me two years ago but I don't think he understood exactly what he signed up for when he allowed me into his school. The first three months I wasn't very friendly, trusting, and to put it in true Sheba fashion I was cloudy. I wasn't my normal self. I felt so bad, I wanted him to understand me and that how I was currently acting wasn't how I am normally. But some how he got it. He's pushed me and made sure that I never felt board. He has seen me at gunpoint millions of times and yes I've cried in front of him before. Thankfully he also disagrees with Twilight and enjoys Deep thoughts by Jack Handley. I don't think I can every be able to fully say how grateful I am for his putting up with me. I know he has a lot of faith in my abilities (Probably just brain washing me so that when I'm rich I can pay for his counseling that I drove him to) which I find to be a great strength when things get hard. Thanks!
6. My cousins. Basically I've been raised with these guys. Their my best friends and love them more then words can say.
   
7. Friends. I wont name names but I have amazing friends. I've had epic journeys with almost all of them. The support and encourage me. But most of all they make me laugh. I hope they know that I love them millions of red M&M's and that animal crackers are the best!

These are just a few of the people that I love and hold dear but I'll never forget them or what they have done for me. Hopefully one day I can repay them some how.

The Melodramaic Birthday

With most of the preparations underway for Groundhogs day I've now begun the task of planning for sweet sixteen. This birthday holds many exciting things such as a drivers license, dances, and road trips. And now I can legally whistle at the guys! The excitement is almost overwhelming when a guy you like threatens to take you out, but now I must return to my sense and say this: Don't shave your legs before you go on a date. With a few sweet lines a girl can easily be lost, but if she is armed with hairy legs that make cricket sounds when she rubs them together then it is easier to keep her head out of the clouds and pay attention to his nervous laugh that makes you want to cringe. Hairy legs is her last connection with reality. But what would I know?

Seeing as I'm not quite on the market yet I've been a safe friend for guys to have, but with the approaching days the conversations have mutated from "Hey!" to "Hey hows my girl?" Or my personal favorite, when I ask that they get me their grades (I'm class secretary) then they have ten minutes in the HHF (aka my Hero Hall of Fame). Previously I would have received their grade and perhaps a little thanks for my hard work; but now I'm receiving little notes along with the grades that say 'I'm excited to be your hero' or 'you're cute when your mad, I don't think I'll give you my grade so I can see you mad'. These little notes aren't quite the self-esteem boost that one might think....

In the school that I attend we love to debate. In most debates I can stay calm under the frustration, at times I even laugh in the climax of the heat. I seem to bloom with life when I'm put under pressure that is until the flirt drops a line.

I might be having a good talk with a close friend and then they say something remotely flirtatious and I freak! I've done everything from leaving the conversation immediately to leaving the house screaming. But enough of this uncomfortable subject.

Now for the moment of truth, the real reason why I'm excited for the big day. Drum roll please. Drivers license! The moment the bird can really fly from the nest. I realize that I might be half slave to errands after this marvelously freeing and empowering paper/privilege card of all privileges has been issued to my itching hands.

But now for the scene that I have in my mind: With freshly shaved legs and a beautiful black dress, I will paint my nails cherry red while listening to the Hallelujah chorus (the purpose of doing this is to remind me what a monumental day this is). After applying a little makeup, I will adorn the high hills that demand respect. With my hair done in a dressy yet normal way. The outfit for the day will be complete

With parents in tow we will depart to visit "friends" (I know calling the people at the DMV friends isn't accurate but I have to make this seem romantic!). Flashing my normal scintillating smile and then leave the office with power freshly laminated. I will hold it in a sassy manner between my cherry red nails. As I drive around looking gorgeous many will honk in order to be bestowed with my dark blue eyes for a moments pleasure. Men will stop walking on the sidewalk as I pass so they might have a second longer to look at me. With a slightly smug smile I will flutter from one end to the next of town.

I will then return home, and walk in to see my room decorated by some secret admirer. With the newly acquired treasures from my extensive travels-the grocery store-I will then pop in the movies of all movies! Pride and Prejudice! The six hour version. As I sit in the basement making notes for my future husband I will then be called to run an errand. While I'm gone something fun will happen to make my day (okay so what if I don't have this part planned?).

With the day to reflect on I will end the night with a roll of sushi and a little day dreaming about the perfect boyfriend (Which I will probably end up calling co-conspire-er about. I swear if Ronda doesn't know the perfect guy for every mood then her name will cease to be Ronda). With a wistful journal entree I will then retire my over excited mind to the sweet soft pillows and dream of my future husband.

Yeah it sounds perfect, too perfect. So I plan to paint my nails, make at least one non-moving traffic violation, watch Pride and Prejudice and then as I watch the sunset I will say thank you for the little miracles; such as not having my room decorated by a secret admirer or not having to go to school. Either or both will be good.

Is it spring yet?!

With the acceptance of school I've tried to occupy my mind with more cheerful thoughts such as warmth (Please note the sun hasn't been out for three days and its beginning to take it's toll), the up coming sweet sixteen! Bulbs, and plant starts. Yes spring is on mind and the one thing that I'm holding out for is Groundhogs Day.

What is Groundhogs Day? Well it is celebrated on the second of February in Punxsutawney Philadelphia. In the early hours of the morning some guys dressed in suits and top hats come to the town square where thousands of people have been all night singing songs and dancing. When the men in black show up things become quiet. The master of the men in black grabs a cane and knocks on a stump then he reaches in and pull out the weather man of all time! Punxsutawney Phil! He holds the lovable creature up and the crowd goes crazy with love and admiration. The master then talks to Phil, Phil replies, then the man talks, ect. After a lengthy conversation the man turns to the crowd and recites a heart warming speech at the end of which he tells the world what Phil says to expect. Now this is when the weather report gets tricky. If Phil see's his shadow then it will be six more weeks of winter, but if Phil doesn't then it will be an early spring. The crowd boo's accordingly and then they do whatever else they have planed for the day.

This national holiday has never been celebrated as it should on a national level. But my family religiously celebrates this unusual holiday that often times inspires innovation and awe for the rest of the year. Just think of the great benefit that the world would see if they too celebrated this day when animal respect had been brought to a whole new level of originality? I dare say that even your neighbor would smile and say "hi" (I realize that for some people this is a near impossible feat).

Now that we have discussed the importance of this winter wonderland jubilee I will now go in great depth about how to properly observe this day of great rejoicing (According to my house). We start the night before leaving messages on the phones of those that we hold near. The message is a simple one we record for them "I've got you babe" By Sonny and Cher (from the best movie Groundhogs Day. It is a must see!) and leave a heart warming thought such as "YELLOW! It's your favorite family in the world! We were just calling to remind you that tomorrow is the day of all days, it is the day of the groundhog. We would also like to remind you that we are collecting money for our Go to the Groundhog found. All contributions will be used in careless ways in our effort to visit Phil." (Please note that it has been a long lasting goal to go to Punxsutawney to see Phil.) After several phone calls of such nonsense then we go to bed.

We awake in the morning to the said song. Thoughtfully we then devour sausage or a ground hog. At seven we call those that we didn't leave a message for to awaken them with the glad tidings and the song. Then we depart to fulfill our obligations.

At about four we begin to gather. We run some errands to pick donuts. With paper groundhogs colored brown and taped on toothpicks we then toothpick the donuts and door bell ditch our close friends that could use some cheering. After that then we come home to some thoughtfully planned dinner. We take a few pictures at the dinner table while we ware our groundhog hats and then we eat.

After that we then gather in our basement and watch the ever famous and most quoted movie in our families history. Groundhogs Day. We quote till we laugh. We laugh till we cry. And we then sit in awe after the movie. This then completes the festivities. We will then revile about our experience for the week.

Warning! If you follow the prescribed festivities you might suffer from the following: Lose of friends for unknown reasons, being reported to the police for trespassing and leaving illegible notes, being reported to the local insane asylum "one of your bad cases is out on the streets. Don't you people have security for this kind of stuff?" Your sense of humor, if you suddenly receive the urge to consume a doughnut with out chewing or refuse to floss your teeth then have an amazing weekend and then call your therapist.

New year, new short story

With school back in session I've been driven back to responsibility like a mouse to its hole. So in order to maintain sanity I've be spending free time editing, playing with my camera and forming sentences in my mind that would confuse Robert Langdon ("protagonist" of the Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown) and make Roald Dahl feel proud.

In my editing I've finished a short story that should have been finished a century ago! Okay a month ago but still that's enough to gather dust on an object.

So now a little explanation to this short story; I personaly like it and at the same I have no idea my exact thoughts on it. Oh well maybe by the day that I can choose my favorite color I can also tell you what I think of this short story. (No need to feel nervous, this one if fairly up beat). Enjoy!

Amber Waves of Change

Bells whorled, crowds rushed by with ruddy faces and force. Teary eyed good-byes were being said, but one scene was different. Anna looked over her brother and his family. Relief was visible in their appearance. They were getting rid of their biggest burden.

She bent down to hug the children. She gave them each a stick of peppermint. Her eyes lingered on her nieces and nephews. She stood up straitened the bodice of her dress and faced her brother and his wife. It was easy for her to give Charlie a hug, kiss and causally slip a letter in his hand. As for Alice her sister-in-law the hug was brief. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as she waved to them then boarded the train.

With weary hands she assessed the damage of her hair and hat the analysis wasn’t good. Her golden hair was falling out of its Edwardian bun. Her hat that she had bought expressly for this occasion had almost been completely trashed due to the thrashing of the crowd. But this was an adventure the very thing that she had been thought she wanted.

She looked around at the passengers that were sitting next to her. A young lady that wore the a very fashionable dress looked with stars in her eyes at her traveling partner that was reading the newspaper. A young man in his mid-twenties sat directly across from her. He had soft brown eyes and the expression of a gentlemen. His bag of golf clubs sat next to him. Anna realized that she had been staring when he looked up with wonder in his expression. Trying desperately to soften the awkward moment she held out her hand and said in a voice hardly above a whisper “Good afternoon sir my name is Anna…Anna Hemmington.” He looked at her hand for a second then took it, gave it a stiff shake and said in a strong voice “Nice to meet you my name is Jeffrey Black.” Their met eyes for a few seconds. Then with a blush she looked down at the hem of her dress and muttered “Nice to meet you.”

The stress of the past few days was enough to make her sleepy and in want of a nap but it wasn’t proper for lady to sleep in public, so the laws of propriety kept her from a much deserved rest. To help her stay awake she looked out the window and watched the scenery change with rapid pace. Seeing the lush emerald trees for the last was hard on her. The landscape of Vermont was her favorite thing that home had to offer.

Tears came to her eyes as night came. With blurred vision her green eyes frantically searched for the first star so she could have the wish of her heart, but it was a cloudy night. After everyone was asleep she finally she fell into an anxious rest. With a paper clipping in her left ungloved hand. Jeffrey woke up when he heard her moan. He scanned the room to see if there was anything in it that would agitate her. Just when he was certain that she was having a nightmare and nothing more he saw the paper clipping slip through her fingers.

He picked it up with great interest and searched it for an answer to the many questions that swam threw his mind. It was tattered and the corners showed signs of a being rubbed. The printing was fading from being folded and re-folded. With the little light that was in the train car hallway he was able to make out what it said.

“Needed: A women who isn’t afraid of work.
Can teach kids, and open to marriage
with a forty-five year old man living in
Nebraska with three kids all under the age of eleven.”

He tucked the add back in her hand and studied her face. It looked young yet clouded with worry. She was beautiful to be certain; Golden hair, green eyes, red soft lips. It all seemed so strange that a lady with so much promise was throwing herself away. But as he began to ponder on their awkward introduction today it wasn’t to hard to see why. A girl that so obviously needed grace wouldn’t be wanted. With one last glance of pity he fell asleep.

Then next morning she was the first to awake. She sleepily looked around and rubbed the kink in her neck as she looked around the room. Nothing had changed, with hope she looked out of the window to see fields of wheat passing by. Her arm slowly dropped to her lap as she stared at strange yet phenomenal surroundings. “Oh beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain.” She jumped when she heard that same self assured voice speak. She flashed a glance at Jeffry and nodded good morning. But this wasn’t enough for him. “Forgive me,” he started out “but I saw the add in you hand last night…it slipped out of your grasp…” as he fumbled for word she looked at him and searched his being with her green eyes then cut in to his monolog “Yes, I know that I should be patient, but its easy for one to know when they are no longer wanted around. I felt like this was my only option.” During this little speech of hers Jeffry stared at the floor embarrassed at her bold and unguarded words, a lady would have known not to speak so freely. He was shocked to see that he felt a since of freedom that came from braking the stiff rules of propriety. Anna soon found that she could talk to him easily. And he likewise discovered that there was something about her that made attention draw to her. HE trusted her a feeling relatively new to him.

Sunflowers soon blurred past the window as they talked. Directly at twelve lunch was brought. Everything was normal with their sandwiches except for Anna’s. She bit in to it find a twig but on further examination she discovered that it was a sprig of rosemary. With a nervous laugh she waved it off as an accident she opened the window to her left and threw it out. With the drawing on of the day there was a notable weight added to her countenance.

Promptly at three her destination was called. She gave Jeffrey a brief nervous glance then she grabbed her hat box and carpet bag and said goodbye. As she left she turned and said “have fun in California Jeffry, my prayers are with you.” With out another word she turned her back on the room and walked out, a sense of poised duty followed her like a perfume. But no one saw her quivering ankles or how her breath caught when she exhaled.

On the platform she waited for him…..Earnest Hill. It was sunset when a broad shouldered man appeared in a buckboard. He walked up the steps to the platform and took off his straw hat and said “Anna?” “Yes. Mr. Hill I presume.” An emphatic “NO” was her answer. “Oh” she said with her cheeks reddening “Mr. Hill is down with a broken leg I’m his hired hand James Callahan.” With this he took her luggage and helped her in to the buckboard.

The bumpy dirt road made her even more weak then she already was. It seemed like they would never find the farm, they’d die from lack of provisions here in the wilderness, of course it didn’t help that dusk was setting on the dusty surroundings. When she saw the white house lit up with roses in the yard she wished they had died in the wilderness. “Go ahead and going with out knocking. Mr. Hill is waiting for you.” Her stomach twisted and cramped. She grasped the pillar on the porch in order to make it up the three small steps.

To her astonishment a little girl meet her at the door and helped her to her new room…until the wedding. Lilly told her that her pa was waiting for her to have dinner with them but to go ahead and freshen up. This she did with great pleasure, at last something that wasn’t foreign to her. Right as she was putting the finishing touches on her hair a shadow appeared in the doorway. Her hands quivered and the color drained from her face. The figure entered the room. A man with a leg in cast on his right leg came wobbling in.

He had dark eyes and thick wavy hair. With a smile as he held out his arm and said “May I escort this lady to the dance?” Her eyes lit up with joy. “Why of coarse you may!” She said. His winter blue eyes twinkled. There was something about him that seemed familiar. She rested her small hand in the crook of his arm. She looked at him, his smile of genuine goodness seemed to radiate, she smiled back. A new smile.

Love always, Stephiphany

A New Moon That is Covered With Craters

For those who know me then you would know that this past month has been a landmark in my life. Why? One might be asking themselves, the answer is simple New Moon came out! (Don't worry I'm not as I seem...okay now I'm sounding like a Cullen. But really Stephenie Meyer has never been a friend of mine.). I know that when many read or hear the title New Moon they roll there eyes and think of all the girls who spend nights crying over Edward and days reminiscing about Jacob. The marriages ruined because the wife decided that her husband isn't "perfect". And the guys who now apply glitter so that the girls see their sparkly complexion in the sunlight and are made to think "I've found him! My own Edward!" You probably would naturally put me in the category that I have just described, with all the other saps. Well your wrong I am a consummate of utter disapproval for the twilight series!

I personally find the Twilight series to be a draining one. I've attempted a few of Stephenie Meyers books and have failed miserably every time! Her style is one that viciously attacks people that mirror the same thoughts and emotions (Which is the normal girls hormonal swings.) These books suck out all reality and leave behind shriveled up rinds of a half vampire (or alien) and half pale-for-love fans (girls). They now hunt for a perfect guy to prey off of even though they themselves aren't perfect. And as for the rest of us that don't identify with those emotions we are left annoyed and out of the loop. (Being a girl I naturally identify with those hormones but I don't live in them.)

The same imagery is often used excessively like in the host for example: (I made it to page 150 and couldn't take it any longer) The imagery of fire, dry, thirsty and passion can be found on almost every page. After awhile you wonder if Stephenie Myer has an imagination (or at least a thesaurus)!

In my own personal opinion good literature is something that can apply to everyone and has life lessons that can be gleaned every time it is read or re-read. It carries emotion but its balanced by events. Instead we have novels like Stephenie Myer's that are like books on steroids. These puppies are packed with emotion, passion, immorality, and non-eventful pages that never seem to end.

And now to my movie experience....

I went to the movie New Moon just so I could have a fun time with my friends, and to have the chance to sink my teeth into more core issues of the story. But the very, very basic evidence is this. Every time Jacob entered after his hair cut (from here on we will keep this on a basic chronological time frame based off of Jacobs hair do. So before the hair cut we will call it B. G. for before gorgeous! (Hey I might hate the books but dude have you seen how hot he is?) And after the hair cut we will refer to it as the W. W. Y. M. M. for Wow will you marry me?) there was an audible sigh of swooning love heard.

Either I was in a movie theater full of Edward hating girls, or Edward lost points big time! Because every time Edward entered no one seemed to care. One of my personal favorite scenes was when we first see Jacob in the W. W. Y. M. M. era. Its raining and and his shirt is off (get this he is so hot that he steams in the rain!). There was such a gasp for air that I was concerned that there might not be enough air left for me! There was one person who didn't gasp and I sat right next to him. Yep you heard right there was a "him" in the theater! The poor husband was drug along by his wife. So he sat there and played with his Iphone (The quality time that was going on with that couple was enough to make me envious.....NOT).

Speaking of quality couple time that remind me what a jerk that flippin' producer was! There was about three almost romantic moments in which she almost kissed Jacob but they always get interrupted! I mean it was kind of a build up and he leans in......and the phone rings or something else lame. I don't know about other girls but when I see a kiss waiting to happen I get a little excited and then when they are pulled away moments before it happens is just a huge let down on all those hormones that rushed through your body. (I'm pretty sure that its bad for my health to go through such hormone rushes....it will probably lead to me being a paranoid old hag that obsesses over PDA's.)

It just doesn't feel romantic. It is all the same high school drama that we see everyday. Except now we have added monsters to it....that doesn't make me feel better. And get this, we are spending our money to go see it! It doesn't make sense to me, but I also spell yeah perfectly backwards when I'm tired so maybe I'm the one messed up.

Jacob, Edward, Bella and everyone else in that story seem to just be going through the actions of life in stead of living and loving life with the ones they care about. Perhaps its just a vampire thing. There isn't one normal marriage shown. It is all selfish infatuations that spring forth from the violent first sightings of admiration, instead of the mature love that has you in the bathroom nursing your husband through another round of the flu on your date night. (I'm not saying that that particular scene is romantic but it shows that you are dedicated to your spouse. And you know that as soon as they are better they'll sweep you off your feet for a date night....that's eternal. Not this whole thought process that says "I can't EVER happily live without this person." I think that is possible to live happily with or without them, but I also believe that your quality of happiness should increase when they are around.)

You might think that I sound bitter because of Stephenie Myers success? No I'm not but I must say that she has lowered the bar and people don't like having to apply themselves so any thing after this will seem as a failure because it doesn't draw them in and make them relive those awful, never should be re-experienced, hideous, high school years. (I can't imagine anyone that would want to live through their high school years again! I have plans to pretend that they never happened, and burn all the awkward pictures/evidence of myself surviving. But that just me.)

All things considered I'd like to say thank you to Stephenie Myer for providing herself as a sacrificial antithesis to the masters of romance novels, such as Jane Austen, Little Women, North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell and others that rock the world of literature! I hope that one day my generation can redeem themselves of this novel so it isn't in the history text books as a defying work of "literature" in the world....shutter....

Muffins?

Saturday morning dawned with all of the ingredients for a lovely day. My best friend Jordan had spent the night and we were getting ready for an exciting day with each other. We soon found ourselves hungry for breakfast, so we convinced my Mom to make the batter for muffins and I'd bake them. Things had gone well we had eaten, cleaned up and decided to curl my hair. So we went up stairs to do my hair. My hair is considered a miracle to many in my family for one simple reason, it is extremely thick. But because it is so thick it takes forever to do. We found ourselves in my bathroom two hours later laughing, applying the worst makeup known to womankind, and taking pictures of the epic process it is to curl my very wavy hair,
When Mom came home from her errands we heard my name being yelled from the kitchen, I figured that she just had something to tell me, she did but it wasn't what I expected. I opened the bathroom door and yelled down to her and asked her why she need me. It then became very apparent to my nose that something that wasn't quite right....the last tin of muffins had been forgotten in the oven for three hours! My embarrassment kept me from going to see what they looked like but from what I hear they resembled little black stones in the bottom of the tins. Wow, only I would forget about the muffins for three hours!

Here I am posting my second post! I'm so excited to share my summery of Louis L'Amour's book "The Man From the Broken Hills". I know at times I comes across rather strong in this summery but I truly couldn't help myself. Have fun! Love, Stephiphany......

The Man From the Broken Hills

The man from the broken hills is a western by Louis L’amour. And like most westerns there are hot babes that have all the talent (I’m not jealous). Robust men that have amazing aim, that always show up when the babes turn into damsels of distress. And of course there’s the wild untamed country.
Our robust muscle man in this book is Milo Talon. Milo is born with a wondering soul. But Milo has more going for him then muscles. He has a unmatched genealogy. His Talon side are of French descent, and have been known for their desire the settle the west. His mother is a Sackett, but the Sacketts are not delicate tea party lovers. They come from England and have the reputation of having more grit the hair on their heads, and a conquering attitude.
We first meet Milo on the range between babes and consequently jobs. He meets some men that hook him up with a job. But he soon finds out that his employer is and old enemy stole some cattle from his family!
But this man is a mere shell of his former self he is now “blind” (or at least thinks so). He being duty bound keeps the job and starts to work with a Mexican called Tony.
At once Milo finds a kindred spirit in Tony, but Tony knows that the best way to a mans heart is thru coffee and Mexican food. As they work together they talk about bodacious babes and missing cattle ( like babes and cattle are the same thing, these muscle men can be so insensitive)
But he does have a thing going with the cattle, all of the “young stuff” (that would be cattle under three years) are gone! Milo can’t figure it out. Could it be his so called blind employer? Tony the amazing cook? Any of the men he works with? Or could it be one of the other ranches? Especially the Balch’s who really do believe that muscle and babes are all that matter in life.
On the range Milo meets babe number one Ann Timberly (let me once again clarify that I’m not jealous. But I feel like I can relate to her a lot when it comes to attitude.) Ann like me is controlling, and stubborn, and tends to bring it all out when muscle men cross our paths. (but for me it’s a bit more lethal because it comes out for most guys not just muscle men.) She and Milo don’t have a romantic first meeting because Mils is a guy that doesn’t understand girls. After hot and rude words spew forth Ann rides off in a heated temper. (I know what’s going on in Milo’s mind he’s thinking dang she’s hot, and single!).
After many days of confusion and the being aches of love there is a box social. Milo is so excited that he even reads the book “how to win a babe in five easy ways” and he dresses up. There we meet China Ben that’s our second and final babe. The boxes went up for sale. Milo bids on Ann’s because that was tip number one in his book. He doesn’t win the box which burned his heart. But he wins another box and only a semi-cute girl. Glad for the non Mexican food he learns that the girl is of a shady history, and nobody knows her, but she knows him and tells him to watch out. He decides to keep going with the tips from his book, and uses tip number two “escort the girl home.” he doesn’t even make it to his horse before the has to fight his to take the girl home. (literally) she will let him take her only half way, but he finds tracks of young cattle on his way back. (once again I’m offended about this hole parallel of girls and cattle. I mean come on just because we sometimes eat salad means nothing.) he follow the tracks a little bit until he gets shot at. He flees from the scene.
He escapes from them and lives to tell about it. A few day latter he’s telling his tale of woe to the big bull of the ranch when he is shot in the head and knocked unconscious. At first he thinks it is love pains but soon discovers that no they are of a physical type. He lays there trying to walk but it hurts to much. After hours of marinating in blood and pain he is finally able to make it away to the cabin. When he gets there Ann is waiting for him because she thought some thing was wrong. As he is getting better the killer tries a couple of more time to kill him but Milo is a lucky duck and escapes all the attempts.
Time goes on and Ann has crush on him. He gets better and goes back to work. One of his co-workers gets lonely and decide there is more to life then sage brush. He barrows one of Milo’s shirt and set out for the mythical semi cute girl. After a few days people get concerned and tired of doing the branding alone. And so Milo sets out to find him. Milo finds him dead, Shot to death. Milo carries on to figure out why his friend was shoot at, and if it had any thing to deal with the missing cattle. He finds Ann’s horse and decides that the missing cattle is linked with Ann (thing number one cattle and girls are nothing alike. Number two just because she is a damsel doesn’t mean that she is evil).
He finds both Ann and the mysterious girl, he saves Ann and finds out that the cattle rustler, and kidnapper is mysterious girls brother (I don’t know about you but that seems evil.). After he saves Ann he goes after evil man and gets the cattle back.
After he finally wins the girl he decides that he needs to move on in life which means good-bye Ann. Even thou he brakes up with her she doesn’t hurt that much because one, half of this relationship is in his head and two, she isn’t carried off by muscles and guns. All in all it is a good book, but a little discriminating when he talks about girls as if they have no mind and they crawl on the floor eating salad as cattle do.

Well here it is my very first post! I'm excited to see the things that will happen on this blog. Deciding what to post first has been hard but I've (finally) made up my mind. I wrote this piece of short fiction last spring when I was give an assignment to write on the color red. Enjoy!

Certainly red

The poppies were beautiful. The same big bush grew in front of grandmas house every year. But some how they always seemed to be more beautiful than the year last, but this year was different.
The red poppies had always inspired me as a child. I knew if I smelled them I would be happy and then I’d pick some and take them to mama, because I knew that they were her favorite to wear in her hair when she attended church. I remember looking at the poppies in her hair and thinking how especially beautiful they looked on the day that our pastor gave his soon to be famous sermon on the atonement.
Then, years later, I thought that they whispered to me secrets. Secrets of happiness and ideas to spread the happiness I felt. Now the poppies seemed dead, drenched in a scarlet blood that was shed by people that thrived in taking life, people like my ma‘s murderer. I decided that the poppies were dead when the they no longer spoke to me, just like mama. They failed to make me happy, and now I wanted no part of them or what they use to offer, if they were dead what could they have to offer? But I guess that they were just false ideas of happiness and joy that only the simple minded would believe, I thought as I lay on the cement soaking in the sun.
We as a community have a tradition, we lower the casket into the ground and as a part of the ceremony we drop fistfuls of dirt on it. This symbolizes rebirth or at least that is what Joe Porter says, he’s kind of a patriarch in our community, and every body believes what Joe Porter says.
As I watched fistful after fistful drop on my ma I began to feel as though I was in there with her. When I could no longer see her casket because of the dirt I felt like I had to struggle to breath so I could stay alive. I knew I had been buried alive with mama. Before we left grandma sprinkled poppy seeds on the freshly tossed dirt, she said that by the time they bloomed I would also be blooming in my new life. But I knew it was a lie, all adults tell faults hoods so “kids” are happy.
After the death of mama nothing was the same. I no longer smiled. I hated happy people. And I never knew what to think. It was as if I was no longer an independent thinker of ideas, but an independent feeler of emotions. Grandma told me that this was to be expected. She told me that I was suffering from the shock of mama’s death. But it felt deeper then shock, it was more like the paralyzed feeling that you get when you belly flop into water. Your skin tingles from the slap of the water. And you feel like your lungs have collapsed. But for me I also felt like my hands were tied behind my back. I was doomed to drowned. Every thing was numb around me. It had to be inside of me in order for it to register, but even then there was no promise of me noticing it.
I soon found that my eye’s seemed to search for the color red in objects but when I found it I immediately looked away as though it hurt my eyes because I wasn’t ready for what I had seen.
Red, it was so noticeable and blunt that there was no mistaking it. I had to act immediately or else something would happen which meant uncertainty. The reality of red was to hard to accept, it was so strong and powerful, I guess that I didn’t like it. Grandma some how noticed my fascination with the color red, then she remembered that I had only one dress to go to church in. With money that she couldn’t spare she bought red fabric for a dress to sew for me.
When she presented it to me I was at first enthralled, the simple yet becoming style was one that would really make me feel comfortable when I wore it. But then the red hit my eyes with a powerful blow it felt as though my spirit had to stagger to regain its footing, so the little order of my feelings didn’t fall apart. After the initial shock a deep revolt set it in. In seconds it had hardened and lodged it’s self like a rock in my throat choking me. I felt that I needed to sputter and struggle for breath, but I couldn’t tell if it was the physical or spiritual side of me that was reacting to the red. I just knew then at that moment that I couldn’t accept yet it, the redness of it. No I couldn’t.

Stephanie