Mind Your P's and J's! ~~ A Faerie's Tale

~Once upon a time, in a land called Far Away...

There lived a boy of about thirteen years old with the name of Lance. He was a nice boy, albeit a little slow at times, and he enjoyed traveling and meeting people a great deal.

Throughout his travels, many of the people Lance met thought that he was older, for he looked to be about 30, but in reality he was only just a teenager. Lance enjoyed taking advantage of this misunderstanding quite often for it afforded him the chance to bounce back and forth between the joys of childhood and the privileges of adulthood. With each new town he visited, privileges and joys abounded--and more often than not, the privileges and joys were of a different sort with each town he encountered. This kept Lance in a constant state of happiness and good will--especially when the privileges of the town included entrance into a tavern or two.

Unfortunately, for an as yet unknown reason, with the entrance into these taverns, also came Lance's tendency to introduce himself with a variety of odd names. More often than not, he would come up with a name off the top of his head, just to give the patrons a start, but his favorite by far was, "The Keeper of the Time." This name made him appear as old and as wise as a name possible can. When he used this name he was always careful to sit at table off in a dark, damp corner for he knew he would soon be followed by many people who wished to absorb his words of wisdom which they felt sure were shortly forthcoming.
Lance found this as funny as the funniest joke in all of the world. He would sit at his table, clutch his stein tightly to his chest, and mutter the most nonsensical phrases and sentences imaginable...and the people would murmur with awe and appreciation at every word. Lance would leave the tavern hours later, mostly as a result of having had exhausted his vocabulary--but his purse was never the worse for having spent so much time consuming alcoholic beverages, for no matter which town he visited, the inhabitants thereof never felt right about such a wise man paying for his own drinks.

Lance traveled for many a year, always alone, but always quite satisfied with the way things were. Especially when he gave his name as The Keeper of the Time. Life was best just about then.
Slowly, though, very slowly, came the day that Lance realized he used this name more often than all of the others combined. And then the day that he realized he was leaving the taverns containing more and more fermented beverage. ::stumble, stumble:: He would go out the door. ::stumble, stumble:: Often it occurred to him that perhaps a wise man ought not walk so, but always he did. Until the day that he stumbled and fell into a ditch.

There he lay. Waiting for someone to help him. But no one came, for no one had seen him fall. Finally it occurred to him that he could ask his Fairy Guardian for help (for men do not have Fairy Godmothers...but only Fairy Guardians). But his drinking had addled his brain somewhat, and before he could stop himself, he had called on his Fairy Guardian in a most inappropriate way:

"Hey, Stoop Head, a little help here?" .............. ::silence:: ............... "OoOooh, Stoop Heeead?"

Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Time elapsed.
Time elapsed.
Time elapsed.

Finally the alcohol began to wear away, and Lance had a half-way sober thought:
"I don't think that's his name...."

"No," came a feminine voice. "You are correct, sir. That is not his name."
Lance lifted his head and saw a Faerie Guardianette sitting on a fallen tree not three feet from where he was lying.
"Heeeey! How long have you been there?"
"I? Why, aren't you The Keeper of the Time?" The sarcasm in her voice seemed very unbecoming to such a beautiful creature. After seeing him cringe satisfactorily, the Faerie Guardianette raised her eyebrows and answered demurely, "About an hour, I should say."
"An hour?!" Lance was shocked beyond all shock. "Where is my Fairy Guardian??"
The Faerie sighed. "He is not coming," she answered. She rolled her sparkly eyes at his reaction. "You have exhausted the poor Guardian, and, on top of that, you have insulted him. No. He is most definitely not coming."
Lance cringed again as she said these words, not only because the truth of them stung, but also because the sparkles in her eyes turned from diamond-white to ruby-red as she spoke them. Lance was humbled--and a wee bit frightened.

"Look," he said. "I just want to stand up. That's all. Just to stand up."
The Faerie rolled her eyes again. "Then do it." Her eyes sparkled a sapphire color as she began to laugh and kick her legs in front of herself.
"I can't!" Lance was getting very frustrated with the oversized Faerie (for Fairy Guardians are much larger than regular fairies. They are about the size of human beings).
The Faerie Guardianette was getting frustrated with him right back. "You think that, O Wise Timekeeper? You think that, do you?"
She stood and straightened her fairy-silk skirt. Fairy Dust fell all around as she did this. Lance saw that this seemed to have a calming effect upon her. She stepped over to him and took his hand in hers.
"I will tell you how to overcome your problem, if you will promise to pay more attention to all of the privileges and joys given you, and not any one in particular." Lance nodded in agreement.
"And!" her eyes snapped out an emerald-green sparkle, "You must also stop referring to yourself as The Keeper of the Time. It isn't becoming in a man of your age."

With a shock, and a slight sinking feeling, Lance realized he was no longer 13 years of age--but closing in on 30. Seeing that he was too depressed to answer, the Faerie felt it would be just short of cruelty to force him to do so, so she simply stood and looked down at him.

"What now?" He asked in confusion.
"'What now'?" She answered back. A smile crossed her face. "Do you solemnly promise to faithfully keep these vows for the rest of your life?"
"Yes, yes, I solemnly promise to keep them."
She hesitated for a moment, then her Faerie laugh suddenly filled the woods. "Oh, I shan't tell you! I shan't, I shan't!"
Lance stared at her in disbelief. "But you must! You must!! You promised!"
"Oh, alright!" She stamped her foot, her eyes sparkling emerald-green once again. "But you're taking all of the fun out of it!"
The Faerie Guardianette danced around a little, and then twirled three times.
"What are you doing?" Hopeful once again, he wanted to know how it all worked.
"Nothing at all but a bit of FW," she answered in an airy tone.
"Ooooh," he breathed appreciatively.
"I've finished," she said grandly, coming to a standstill a few inches from him. "Stand," she commanded.

Lance tried with all of his might, but he could not stand. Desperation was beginning to creep into his heart. He looked up at the Faerie, struggling to keep from glaring at her. But when he looked at her, he saw her hand was clasped over her mouth in an attempt to keep her laughter from sounding. And when she met his gaze, her giggles spilled over and through her fingers. "Oh!" She exclaimed. "I suppose I forgot!"

She stepped gingerly over to his feet, and with the help of a little Fairy Magic and Skill, she caused the ropes to fall away from his ankles. She then stepped to his knees, where the same process was repeated, then on to his arms and chest. She then stood back and merrily laughed and laughed at the expression on his face.

"I thought I had a curse put upon me!" He yelled out, still in the ditch.
"I know!" She shouted with glee, clapping her hands together. "Aren't you so very glad you hadn't?? It was within your power all along!"
Feeling made a fool of, Lance suddenly bounded from the ditch and made a grab at the Faerie, but she evaded his grasp easily, for the ale had not yet completely worn off, and Lance was slow in action.

"You've promised, you've promised, you've promised!" She sang out, her voice echoing through the woods. But she stopped when she saw the sad expression on his face. "Oh, come now. It is for the best!" A quizzical look crossed her face, and lavender sparkles came from her eyes. "You do not think your Fairy Guardian would allow me to do something harsh for harness' sake, do you? It is truly for your best!"

Though Lance heard her, and understood perfectly, he could not quit reaching for the Faerie Guardianette--but she was always dancing just a couple of inches in front of him, laughing and singing all the while.

With one last twirl, she danced away from him, leaving him to reflect on the past few years of his life.

"Mind your P's and J's!" She called out just before she disappeared. She did not look back. True confusion covered his face. "What?!" He called out to her, hoping to catch her in time. She stopped--mid dance step--turned, and sent a withering glance his way, "Your Privileges and Joys!"

With that she disappeared.

And the story ends.

For now.

"Moldy Nastiness??"

...You can't feed it to ducks.

Things are going well up here in CC. It's a lot of fun not having anything I *must* do, and a million things I *could* do.

Therese is in the other room singing "We Are the Titans" from the movie "Remember the Titans." It's funny to hear a little three year old singing that song at the top of her lungs. She quit...Beth is helping her...oh, there she goes again. Oh. Now she's singing the peanut butter and jelly with a baseball bat song. That is *the* *MOST* *annoying* song. But it's cute because it's Therese. Don't y'all wish you were here? ::laughs:: Of course, you can't appreciate it as much as I can. It's impossible for Therese to be as cute to you as she is to me because she's *my* little sister.

Therese says to tell y'all "Poke that." I don't know why. I don't know what it means. But that was what she wanted me to type for her.

My mom and Beth and I were sitting on the couch last night singing into Bryan's electric tuner for his guitar. We were seeing how high we could go. Then we were seeing which note we speak in. I decided I don't like the sound of my voice. I think I sound too much like a guy.

My mom caught Michelle and Hunter chasing the ducks yesterday. Not only chasing them, but throwing them in the air, as well. She put a stop to that immediately. ...But it was really funny while it lasted.

Hey, Mary, Adam is down in OKC. Isn't that funny? Some sergeant came and picked him to take him to the MEPS. At least I assume that's where he was taken. But maybe Alex just paid someone off to come and get him...or maybe...Beeeeth?

Dad and Bryan put up some cabinets in the new bathroom yesterday. That was an interesting accomplishment. Good job, Dad! It took a while, but it looks great!! ;) (\o/)

Becky is doing well after her surgery. John just turned 13 yesterday. Yikes. John is a teenager. ::shudders:: We all went to Country Cottage to eat last night for his birthday. I ate something really weird. It did not taste good. I hope nobody ever tells me what it was. Happy Birthday, John!

And y'all thought there was nothing to do in Clear Creek!

;)

Pax.

I'm Outta Here

I am so excited.

I'm getting ready to leave to go visit my family for the week.

It's been a long time since I've been able to spend much more than a weekend with them...I think it was around Eastertime that I was last able to. So, this is a long overdue trip.

Anyway, I'll be back on Sunday. I probably won't be doing any blogging while I'm up there...unless Beth and I have too much sugar one night and we decide to write a story together. ;)

....and that may just happen.

By the Way...

Today is Saint Raphael's feast day.

I just wanted to mention it.

And I wanted to tell him "Thank You".

He knows why.

"Amen dico vobis, quidquid orantes petitis, credite quia accipietes, et fiet vobis."

He Growls and Everything!

Hey...y'all...remember those stories we heard as kids about the troll that sat under the bridge and waited for those poor billy-goats?

Remember how our mothers were always careful to let us know the stories weren't true, and trolls didn't really exist?

Well.

I think perhaps Mothers aren't quite as knowledgeable in the truths of fairytale-ness as they lead their children to believe.

The stories are true.

Trolls do exist.

How do I know???

Oh, right, like y'all *really* need any more proof than this!!! ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

Kinda makes you wonder about Santa Claus....

(Happy Birthday, Uncle Mark!!! Thanks for being such a good sport!!!!)

Just Out of Curiosity...

Does anybody know what that story was really about?

A Story About Repelling...Isn't It?

Disclaimer: I have never actually been repelling. That is something else I have wanted to do for two and half years, along with the rock climbing. So, please infer from that that which is implied...This story is not supposed to be about myself. It's just what comes out when you've been up until three o'clock in the morning, only had a few hours of sleep, and then had a drink from Starbucks instead of taking the nap you promised yourself.

~

"Just come on," he said. I looked down at him. He looked so far away.
"I'm going to fall," I informed him.
"You won't," he assured me. I raised my eyebrows and gave him a look. He read me. "Then I'll catch you."
He'd catch me.
I was 40 feet above the guy's head, and he was saying he would catch me if I fell.
"You are such a guy," I said under my breath. I looked around.

I was standing at the top of a 40 foot cliff, repelling equipment attached in all the proper places, and I was about to fall to my death.
And I had *him* standing at the bottom telling me it wasn't a big deal. "I've done it hundreds of times," he'd said to me beforehand. He'd even gone first to show me how it was done.

Yes, well, good for him, but I have trust issues, and I told him so.
"What, you don't trust me?" he'd said.
"No," I told him. "I really just don't trust ME." He'd just laughed in reply.
But seriously! Who really wants to let themselves down a cliff of jagged rocks, only to be met at the bottom by a million smaller rocks, while using their own abilities to control the speed at which they descend and when they stop?
Not. Me. At least not just then. I had wanted to--about two hours before I was standing at the top of a scary cliff.

"Can we try a shorter cliff?" I called down to him.
"What?! No!"
"Please? Maybe...like...ten feet?"
I saw him take a deep breath. At first I thought I had irritated him. I tensed up, ready to do...anything but go down that cliff. But then I realized he was laughing. I was so confused.
"Are you laughing???"
"No!" He called up, laughing as his said it. Half of the tension left my body, but the other half stayed, mostly in my neck. It was not helping my resolve.

"Just...just close your eyes!"
"What? Why?"
"Just do it!"
Okay, cowboy, settle down. I closed my eyes.
"Now take a deep breath."
Done.
A few seconds went by.
And a few more.
I opened one eye and looked down at him. He was laughing. I let my breath out in a huff and glared at him. He continued to laugh.
"Very funny!"
He made an obvious effort to quit laughing. "Look," he said. "You wanted to do this. You came all of this way. You're standing at the top of the cliff. You're ready to do it. Say a prayer, trust yourself, trust God, trust your guardian angel, and for heaven's sake, trust me! I've got the ropes down here! Between the four of us, we'll get you down safely."

I said a prayer and took a deep breath, this time letting it out in a timely fashion, and then began the decent. My heart seemed to be at the base of my throat, and my breathing seemed to match the beating of it. Although he talked to me the whole way down, "It'll be worth it," was the last thing I remember him saying as I went over the edge. In the in-between time, it was only me and the wind and thoughts of God...hoping I was ready to meet Him should I fail myself.

Suddenly I was in an upright position once again, and I was looking up at the cliff.

It had been worth it.

All I could do was stare at the massive piece of rock. I had beaten it. Laughing and clapping and teasing filled the air, and I was suddenly made aware of the five or six others who had come repelling with us. They had all ceased to exist once I reached the top of the cliff. I turned and smiled at them. "Oh," I feigned surprise. "Y'all still here?" It had taken a good half hour for me to go over the edge.
"Are you crazy?!" One of them yelled back. "We wouldn't have missed that for anything!"

Then he came up and put his arm around me. "So..." I knew he was trying to hide a smile, even though I wasn't looking at him. I could hear it in his voice. "Do you want to go home now?"
"Well, um, actually..." I bit my lip and smiled. "Can I do it again?"

Everyone laughed. They knew the feeling.

I began to climb to the top again, this time accompanied by him and a couple of others. Up at the top once again, I looked down and and took a deep breath. This one was different from the others.

Deep breaths are always different when one feels safe.

~

Girls' Night

I stayed up until three o'clock this morning. Actually...that was just what time it was the last time I looked at the clock. I don't really know what time it was when I went to sleep.

It was Girls' Night at my cousin's house last night.

Woo hoo. Lots of fun.

But then I got up at 8:30 to go to the abortion clinic to pray. Know what? I wish people weren't so ignorant. I do not enjoy going to stand in the cold to watch willfully ignorant people walk into an abortion clinic. It's insane.

I am so tired.

And I'm hungry.

Will someone please come over and make me some lunch? I am way too tired to do it for myself.

April starved us last night. She didn't have any food for us to eat. It was kind of sad. I cried a little bit.

Okay. I'm so kidding. There were a lot of things to eat (like the best garlic dip in the entire world). It was a really good time. (Abear, I never got a cookie! Will you save one for me?)

Okay. I am going to try to write something of value now. Well...of relative value, anyway.

It's a Sickness...We All Have Those

It's called 'Poem Perfectionism'--and I know how to cure it in 12 easy steps.

1. Get copy of original poem.
2. Get pen.
3. Get piece of paper.
4. Sit down at table or writing desk.
5. Hold pen in hand.
6. Place correct tip of pen on piece of paper.
7. Apply pressure.
8. Make letters by connecting lines at correct points.
9. Make words from said letters.
10. Copy entire poem in this fashion.
11. Sign name at bottom of page.
12. And now make a special effort to give the poem to the very patient person who has been asking for it for the past 6 weeks.

It's my thought-up-on-my-very-own 12 step program! ...I'm not sure of how effective it is, however...so I'll have to get back to y'all on it....

Grrr

I am quite bored and very irritated.

I am very, very irritated.

I am very tempted not to write anything ever again.

At least not until Friday.

Grr.

I'm leaving.

Another Photo

Okay. This is my sweet photo. It's the *non-scandalous* one.

Actually, the real sweet photo needs to be...edited...a little bit, and I can't figure out how to do it, so I just decided to put up this picture of Kiersten and I.

Now, nobody can tell Kk about this. She would get all kinds of embarrassed. But it's a very cute picture of her, isn't it??

Posting pictures is fun. I think I'm going to start posting pictures of other people...just for the fun of it!

Becky

My little sister Rebecca is having her tonsils removed today, and I told her I would say something about her on my blog.

She is eleven years old. She has red hair. She's really, really cute. She's like the sweetest girl I've ever known. She *thinks* she's Uncle Mark's favorite niece. She's really only his second favorite. ;)

She's nervous about the surgery, so if y'all would say a prayer for her, it would be appreciated.

Okay, Becky, hope you liked it!!!

;)

Yes, Mother, I'm Being Nice

I was talking to my mother this evening, and she wanted to know if my blog was a "nice" blog.

I have *no idea* what she meant by that. (You know how to finish that, Andrea.) ;)

She said she would come look at my posts. So I thought I would put a photo up just for her.

I knew you would appreciate the effort, Mom.

Okay, so, for those of you who weren't there, this is a pic from Tap Werks last Saturday night. (I can hear you, Mother.) I went there for my 21st birthday. It was a lot of fun. The drink I am holding in this photo was ordered and paid for by my very sweet cousin Ryan. The picture was taken by my aunt Nancy. You should've seen the first picture she took--it was really funny. But I'm not going to post it here. It's too goofy looking.

I took a special pleasure in drinking that red drink. And only I know why. ;)

Anyway, we had a great group of people there that night, and it was a lot of fun. Sadly, Andrea couldn't be there--but we will go again just for you, Ang!!!

Okay, I have other things I want to do.

Pax.

Thoughts and Quotes

It is amazing to me how much the past eight years have taught me...and how much they haven't.

"In three words I can sum up what I have learned about life. It goes on."
~Robert Frost.

That is one of my favorite quotes.

"The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."
~Mark Twain

I don't know why, but that quote really tickles me.

So does this one:

"It's not that the Irish are cynical. It's rather that they have a wonderful lack of respect for everything and everybody."

How very amusing--especially since it seems very much to be true.

But these are two of my absolutely favorite quotes:

"I love kissing caterpillars!"

"Will you hold my caterpillar? I going to ask Mary if I can feed him some bologna."
~Therese Dominique

Well, that's all for now. I am going to go get some coffee and do some writing and find more quotes this evening. I'm thinking Starbucks for coffee--but I don't think Panera Bread would appreciate it if I brought the competition's coffee into their cafe. It's not like it's some backyard coffee shop....

;)

Good Grief...Now What?

*Where* did my links go? I don't know. Does someone know how I can get them back? I guess it's because I changed my template.

No Time for the Things I Love

There are only so many ways to sit in a chair.

I want to know who has been posting under the name of God. I don't think you should be doing that. I think I know who it is, but, once again, I'm afraid to be sure because it's so easy to be wrong.

I cannot figure out how to put a picture up on my blog. Will someone please help me? I am totally confused.

I got all of the way to Panera Bread today, and then realized that I didn't have the right notebooks with me to do the writing I was wanting to do. Does anyone else know how frustrating that is?

Well, I have found that my little sister Elizabeth has a talent for writing. Well, Beth, you can take over my job as the writer in family. I've decided that I don't like writing anymore. And every family only needs one writer. All of those in favor of Elizabeth, say 'aye'!

"Aye!"
"Aye!"
"Aye!"
"Aye!"
"Aye!"
"Aye!"
"Aye!"
"Aye!"

Okay, eight is enough. Congratulations, Beth! Woo hoo, woo hoo, woo hoo.

Instead, I am going to be a "special" kind of nun. Marcy knows all about it, right, Marce? Yup. It was actually partly Marcy's idea. Jake will finally win, and I will become a nun...according to the Rule of Tracy and Marcy. Only, I don't think it will quite be the kind of nun Jake has in mind.... But, for now, I have to go to bed so that I can get up to go to work in the morning, and do what God has planned for me tomorrow. I'll worry about the day after later.

Simple Musings from the Mind of Tracy

Montgomery Gentry is playing on my television right now. "I'm allright, I'm okay, it ain't nothin' but another day..." I remember when that song first came out. I would turn it way up and drive down the road singing it--::laughs::--back then it was with a lot of feeling. Not so much now. Now I just don't feel feelings. Drama is over-rated.

Aaw. Now there's a rose on the TV screen. It's a Bryan White song. ::sigh:: But he annoys me. So I don't care about it. I'd rather go look at the two dozen roses in my bedroom.

I should be in bed. But I just don't feel much like sleeping. Things aren't making sense to me right now, and going to a quiet bedroom full of silence is not very appealing at this moment.

I shot skeet tonight. Actually, I suppose I should say that I shot in the general direction of skeet tonight. Well, anyway, I hope it was at least in the vicinity of the general direction of the skeet. I don't even remember what kind of gun I was shooting. It had a pretty good kick, that I know. Maybe I didn't hit anything, but I did load my own gun...the one I can't remember the name of...so that was good.

By the way, The Insane One has once again lost his sanity.

*But* he is so much fun when he is insane, that we're good with that.

I like my new background. It's better than the pink. I think I'm going to stick with this one.

I think I may start posting a story I started working on a few month ago. It's called Three Priests and a Guide. I might. I dunno yet.

I will at least introduce the Three Priests and their Guide.

Y'all, meet...

~Father Franz Kristmann
~Father Mark Thompson
~Father James Sullivan
and the guide...
~Mr. Stetson
...and the guide's horse...
~Gypsy
...and the guide's mule...
~Moe

This story is set back in...oooh...the mid-1800's. I don't have any of my five different notebooks in front of me, so I hope I don't have any of the details mixed up. (I couldn't write this story in just one notebook for some reason. I had to jump from one to another.)

Fr. Kristmann is German. When the story begins, he has just been ordained.
Fr. Thompson is Irish-American. When the story begins, he has just been ordained.
Fr. Sullivan is just plain Irish. When the story begins, he has just been ordained.

All three of the men went to the same seminary. The Our Lady of Perpetual Help Seminary in...oh, I can't remember the name now...oh well. Somewhere in Maryland.

Mr. Stetson is...well...nobody knows about Mr. Stetson. He's a mystery. Just a tall, thin, bitter cowboy. Devoid of hope and, as a result, also devoid of fear.

After ordinations, the three priests, who are also good friends, are split up and sent to live three very different lives.

Fr. Kristman....I'm still trying to find out where he was sent.
Fr. Sullivan was sent to...oh...Boston? I'll have to go and ask him where he wants to go. Anyway, he eventually finds himself the Bishop of whichever city he is sent to.
Fr. Thompson is sent deep into Indian Territory to be a missionary. And that is where Fr. Thompson meets up with Mr. Stetson.

Actually, I don't know if I want to tell y'all anymore. Lately I have noticed my work has been plagiarized. There are certain people who shouldn't be told certain parts of a certain story, because they then take the idea and run with it. : b

I don't like being taken for granted. Not a bit. And since I don't like it so much, I wonder who *I* take for granted. hmm. That's a good thought to ponder.

Is it a sin to wish that someone will stub their toe? Is it? I want to know. Because I think I might want to wish that on someone. So I want to know if it's a sin.

Oh, wow. There's Carolyn Dawn Johnson. She's singing 'Complicated'. That song has always kind of annoyed me. I'm not really sure why.

Well, I think this post is long enough.

Pax.

I Must Say...

Short posts aren't nearly as much fun as long posts.

Too bad I don't have the time for a long post.

Well. This is strange. This is probably the first time in....so long I can't remember...that I didn't go to the 9 o'clock Mass. It's 9:33. I just woke up a few minutes ago (I didn't go to bed until almost 1:00). Now I need to go get ready for the 11 o'clock.

I'm just waiting for Kk to finish getting ready, then the bathroom will be free.

Okay. It's free.

C-ya.

A-woo Hoo

Tonight was a good night. It was a fun night.

I will write more later, but for now I just want to share one very pleasant piece of news:

The Insane One has reclaimed his sanity.

And I just rubbed my eye with my jalapeno juice covered finger.

Ow...excuse me. I have to go put sugar on my eye.

YAY!

Kiersten is coming into town tomorrow. I'm so excited! We'll be out having lots of fun all weekend, so I won't be on the computer much.

Y'all have a great weekend!

Pax.

PS- Carrie and Shelley and Ginny...are you happy with how short my posts have been?

;)

Another Short One

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Just think...in...26 years, I'll be as old as you are!!

;)

Okay, Fine.

This is going to be a short post.

Because Irish Princess griped at me.

I had a good birthday.

It was fun.

I discovered that I like Margaritas.

Woo hoo.

A Grand Day

Today is my twenty-first birthday. How wonderful. Woo hoo, woo hoo, woo hoo.

I'm old.

For me.

I'm old for being a Tracy who used to be six.

My family gave me a surprise party last night. Ashley just told me that she said, "Does anyone know that Tracy hates surprise parties?"
And April said, "Well, I don't think that matters." (Such an April thing to say.)

And that was true. I don't really like surprise parties. They embarrass me. It embarrasses me when *other people* have surprise parties! I didn't cry, though. Not at first. I was too embarrassed and surprised to do that. Nope.

But I did cry when I saw Becky walk through the front door. That really shocked me. My mom and all of my siblings who live in CC came down for my party. (My dad wasn't able to, 'cause he had to work. Hi Dad!! I wish you could've been here!) So I cried. 'Cause I miss my family, and it meant a lot to me for them to be here.

Uncle Mark came with his arm in a cast, and I was able to set something straight by writing The Truth on the cast. ;) So, Mark and Theresa and Marcy and Anthony (who gave me a song for my birthday!) and Mason all came. Even James and Jennifer and all of the kids came. That was cool. Kelly couldn't come because she had to work. Marc and Crystal and the boys couldn't because they live in England. Heather and Tom and the girls couldn't because they live in New York. Justin couldn't 'cause he lives in Florida (but Kerry came!). Jessica couldn't because she had school. Ryan *could* have, but he didn't, so I'm going to have to gripe at him when he comes out of his room. ;) Mandy and Landon and their kids couldn't because...why?? :::laughs::: I'm kidding. I know Mandy wanted to come. Chad couldn't because he had to work. (I think...) Ashley couldn't because she had a flat tire, even though she really wanted to! :D Uuuuuuuuum...is that everyone? Good heavens!!!! All of those people are members of my family!!!!!!! Wow. Cool. I have a big family.

Anyway. It was a lot of fun.

Okay.

I have things to do now.

Goodbye!

PS- Good job on the commenting, Laloo!!!! By the way, Ch! Whatever!!! I think it's more the M&M writes like *ME*.

I'm So Disappointed...

*First* of all ... I didn't go running ... AGAIN. I was going to go running yesterday, but it didn't work out because I ended up going to see a play a friend of mine was in. And today...well, it just didn't work out. Now I'm getting frustrated with myself. It's probably some deep, dark secret desire I have to remain unhealthy for the rest of my life.

Okay, that wasn't necessarily anything of importance I *needed* to write about. :::giggles:::

Anyway, the real reason I'm disappointed it because my class was cancelled. I was *supposed* to be starting it tomorrow, and they cancelled it with ONE day warning.

It was a class on graphoanalysis, which is the study of handwriting. I've done some reading on it, and found it to be very interesting, so when I saw that a school nearby was giving a class on it, I was so excited. So...I signed up for it. And what do they have to go and do the DAY BEFORE I'm supposed to start? Cancel it. Argh. I guess I'll just have to go finish reading that book about it. :::sigh::: Okay. Fine. I'll teach myself.

A few years ago I became interested in the inflections people use in their voices at different times and in different situations. (Don't ask me to explain any further because I'm afraid I won't be able to translate my thoughts into your language.) I wondered then if there was a way to study something like that. Graphoanalysis is as close as I've come to finding it. Many times you write down the inflections which would be in your voice, were you to speak what you wrote. Take "Restless Native" for example. Anyone that knows him personally can easily pick out which post is his, due to the words he has stressed. It's so funny. Very interesting. Same thing with ImNRtist, or JB, or Christa...well, okay, so I've never met Christa, but with a personality like that...it must be so. ;)

Anyway--all of that was just said in order that I might complain about my class being canceled. I should quit being negative, stop complaining, and go to bed. Tomorrow will be a good day. I'm working until 5:00, in the home of a family whom I love, then I'm coming home and eating dinner with my wonderful grandparents, and my awesome aunt, and maybe my cool cousin, Ryan.

And tomorrow is also my last day as a 20 year old. Ack. The day after tomorrow I'm going to be an absolute adult. Greeeeaaat. This is weird. When I was 12, I thought I would never be 21. ch. When I was *18* I thought I would never be 21.

By the way--Happy belated birthday, Kk!! We are going to have *SO MUCH FUN* this weekend. Just keep that in mind! ;)

By the way, again--HI MELANIE! See? I said I would, and I did, so, HI!!!!

Pax, everyone. Sleep well.

Quietness

My, my blog has been quiet this weekend. How strange. It's like everyone just fell off the face of the Internet.

Heather, I'm beginning to think you don't even read the blog that was named partially in honor of you!

Well, I just wanted to say something to liven up this pink blog.

Now I'm going to go running. Yes, I considered it, and now I'm going to go do it.

;)

The Art Explained

I think that perhaps it is time to explain the Art of M&Ming.

M&M stands for the initials "M.M."

M.M. stands for "Mystery Man."

A Mystery Man is a man a girl falls in love with, and doesn't want anyone to know about.

OR

He is the man that she will some day fall in love with, and just hasn't met yet.

OR

He is the man she has already met, and will one day marry, and she calls him her "M&M" out of habit.

OR

He is the man she is married to, and for old time's sake, she still refers to him as her "M&M".

The Art of M&Ming is the art of finding the M&M. Your M&M. You have to have the right one. Have to. It's a must. And it's hard. Very hard. There are a lot of Skittles out there--unless you're looking closely, you'll think the 'S' is an 'M' having a bad hair day.

Blue M&Ms are good. They are where the phrase "True Blue" comes from. (Okay, so maybe not, but I'd like to see you prove it.)

Yellow M&Ms...they are good too. Yellow is a happy color. Yellows cause True Happiness.

Green M&Ms .... uuuh ... :::giggles::: Well--Green is the only feminine M&M. M&M in this case does not stand for Mystery Man. I'm not exactly sure what it does stand for.... No further comment.

Red M&Ms are the best. They are the Pearls of Great Price. And they...they are the kind you have to fight for...HARD. They're out there. But they blend in so well with the suffering in the world. So well. But if you wait for them...you're rewarded.

I wrote this poem when I was 15 years old. I would probably write it differently now, but the thought and the feeling are the same now as they were then...

~The Art of M&Ming~

The Art of M&Ming is a special art indeed
For the M&M is not something found upon a steed
The right color you must find
Or surely you will lose your mind
No use pleasing was isn't true
So the color must be blue
But what of them, those who say
"The M&M won't find his way!"
Then the stories we are told
Of knights, strong and bold
Of men who love their women true
But then again, the answer's blue!
And so for you, you have your man
But what of me, and of my plan?
What is the color of blood just shed?
All will say, it is Red
And that will prove which I will wed
The only color for me is red.
Through the dark and through the night
He will come for he will fight.
Unknown to him what his prize will be
May I be made worthy if it is me~

I'm waiting for the Red M&M. Some people tell me my standards are too high. But I know they aren't.

I won't settle for anything less than a Red M&M.

He's worth it.

I'm worth it.

God's Will be done.

;)

My Weekend...aren't y'all interested? ; )

I haven't blogged at all this weekend. I was too busy living my life to write about it.

Friday night I went to a football game with my sister and cousin. It was a lot of fun--we screamed a whole lot. (Awesome touchdown, Kev!!) I love going to high-school football games--even when they lose. I don't know why...I think it reminds me of when I was a little girl and I used to go to my cousins' games.

Saturday I went to a wedding. Then I came home, intending to go to the reception later that evening, but the allergies I *thought* I had, suddenly turned into the bad head-cold I *did* have. It was sad. I was sniffing a whole lot. But I got really tired of sitting around the living-room, so I went and cleaned my room. It looks great now. Well...it's still cluttered, but that's because I have boxes full of stuff which is *supposed* to be in CC with my parents. But it's not. It's in my bedroom, taking up room. Anyway--I was also going to go polka dancing for my quasi-nephew's birthday party, but I missed that too. I was sorry to miss it, because he's such a cute nephew, but I had taken some medicine and it made me quite loopy, so I fell asleep on the couch instead.

I went to Mass this morning and sat downstairs during the sung Mass for the first time in probably two and half years. That was soooo strange. Guess what. It's a whole lot harder to stay awake *downstairs* than it is to stay awake *upstairs* when you've stayed up until 3:00 in the morning the night before. Not that I do that very often, but taking a two hour nap in the evening will do that to you--keep you awake until three in the morning. I've decided I won't be doing that anymore.

Well, I'm considering going running. I've heard that exercising is good for the body.

I'm going to go consider it some more.

By the way, y'all be careful if you ever go to see Kelly at work past 11:30pm. After a certain point at night, her odd sense of humour kicks in, and she likes to do things like begin introductions to her male co-workers by saying, "Hey, this is my sister, she wanted to meet you..."

Rock Climbing

It was two and half years ago that I first thought of going rock-climbing. Two and half years. And I finally did it last night. I'm so excited.

I must confess that I began to be worried as Wednesday evening approached. What if I didn't like it? What if it scared me? What if I just couldn't do it? But it was on My List, and there was no way I was going to back down. So I went.

I met Andrea at her house, and we rode downtown together. As Ang was driving, I asked questions about this place we were going. I was a little worried about the answers she was giving--like the fact that there was only *one* bathroom, and it was really dirty, so I'd probably prefer not to use it--but I refused to get nervous.

Well. Then we got downtown. Then we drove through downtown. Then we were on the outskirts of downtown. As we were sitting at a light, in the outskirts of downtown, I pointed out a scary bridge. "Oh, my," I said. "Look at that scary bridge!" And I locked the doors. Andrea UNlocked the doors. I made her lock them again. I said something about the scary bridge, and how I wouldn't like to drive under it at night, and then it occurred to me."*We're* not going to drive under that thing...are we?"Andrea smiled, nodded, and proceeded to drive under "that thing." Well, at this point I was a little more apprehensive, but I was still ignoring it. I could not figure out where in the world she was going. Soon, though, it became apparent that she was teasing me, because she was driving between these old, broken down looking buildings, and on torn up roads that looked like they hadn't been used in years. At least, I thought she was teasing me. I soon become even more apprehensive, and said, "Are you kidding me??" She laughed. I waited a minute. "Are you kidding me???!!" I said again. We both began to laugh hysterically at this point. This was about the time we turned a corner and saw what there was to see--renovated grain silos. "Are you KIDDING me???!!!"

She wasn't kidding me. If she had told me before that OKC Rocks was located in abandoned grain silos, I did not remember, and I certainly wasn't expecting it.

It was better once we got inside, though. It was clear that everyone was there to climb, and that was it. Well...except for the people from the Czech Republic. Anyway, as I was signing in, I saw Larry through probably the only window in the whole...silo. Ah, Larry--aka, Jake--my old krav maga instructor. He is something else. I just recently found out that he is a psychologist, which explains a WHOLE, WHOLE lot! It explains why one of his favorite sayings was, "*I* can't make *you* do anything." It was great to have him there.

As I was going through the belaying class (where they teach you how to keep your partner from falling from the wall), I heard Jake talking in his usual excited tone. I turned and saw him speaking with the people who had been speaking a language I recognized, but couldn't quite pin down. Turns out it was Czech. Larry wanted us to meet the Czechs. One Czech in particular wanted to meet Andrea. Wanted to party with Andrea. Wanted Andrea's number. All he got, though, was Andrea's email address. :::giggles::: Don't you love me, Andrea? ;) So that was fun.

Time goes very quickly when you're rock climbing. The three of us took turns climbing, belaying, and just watching. It was cool. The highest climb I did was 39 feet. It was hard, but it was fun, and I can't wait to do it again--and hopefully I'll make it higher.

I was very proud of Andrea. She's afraid of heights, but she climbed higher than I did, and heights don't bother me!

I'm a little surprised at how much I actually enjoyed climbing up a wall. I wanted to do it for a few reasons. The main one was that I saw it as acquiring a skill. Some day it may be important that I know how to rock climb, especially with all of the cliffs around my parents' house. So, I saw it almost (*almost*) as a chore. I was slightly surprised, and very relieved, to find that I loved it.

As it was getting close to time for us to leave, something slightly unexpected happened. The hugest Great Dane I have ever seen in my life ran through the silo we were climbing in. I'm talking huge. You know how a lot of times owners resemble their dogs? Well, this dog's owner was no exception. He was TALL, broad shoulders, and very fit. Like his dog. It made me laugh. I mean, what kind of dog do y'all see Andrea having??? Or, Andrea, what about Jake? :::laughs:::

Anyway. That was my first night of rock climbing. Unfortunately, we won't be going again next week because, well, that's my birthday, so we will be somewhere else. Decidedly somewhere else. Why? Because I will be 21. That's all.

It is so bedtime. I'm going to need a nap tomorrow!

Goodnight, everyone! If you did say a prayer that I wouldn't die last night, then I appreciate it. I survived, with only a temporary blurring of vision in my left eye, and a bruise on my left knee. Next time will be better, I'm thinking.

Pax.

I Almost Died Last Night

Seriously. But it didn't have anything to do with rock-climbing (I will give an account of *that* experience later, Czechs, Great Danes, psychologists and all!). It was actually on my way home from Andrea's house.

It was about 10:15pm and it was raining and dark. (Imagine that). I came to a four-way stop, so I had to wait for a minute to make my left turn. Well, this car which was opposite of me failed to notice that I had my left blinker on, and started going at the same time I did, and now that I think back on it, I think he did one of those "rolling stops" at the stop sign. Because of the rain and the dark (and the fact that my eyesight was trying to abandon me because of something I did rock-climbing), I couldn't tell he hadn't stopped until he was about 8-9 feet away from me. At first I did the whole, "Okay, there is no way this is happening, because it just can't be" thing, but I quickly realized this guy was going to hit me.

It's very strange how calm I remained when I realized this. Here I was in the middle of an intersection, it's night time, it's raining, and I had some annoying Edmondite trying to ram into my car, but I wasn't scared. Of course, there wasn't much time to be scared since it all took place in a spilt second.

I think my guardian angel took over for me. He hit my gas peddle, instead of the break, and swerved my car in a very peculiar way, which kept me from getting car by the annoying car. All *I* did was honk my horn at the guy, because it truly seemed to me that the person wasn't putting their brakes on, so I had to alert him to the fact that he was about to run into the car *I just finished paying off*. Okay, I may not *like* my car very much, but right at that moment, it was way too cute to be run into like that for no good reason.

Well, as is apparent, my car is just fine, and so am I, for we *both* got out of the way. That other car just went on it's merry little way, and probably didn't even car that he almost hit me. I honked at him again...just for good measure. Then I felt guilty. Don't ask me why.

After it was all over, and everything was back to normal, and my life was no longer in peril, I remembered that Dan had told me he would say a prayer for my safe drive home since my eyes were doing weird things. Well, Dan, I don't know you remembered to or not, but if you did--Thanks. You may have safed my life. And if you didn't--Thanks a lot! I almost got into a wreck because of you!

More on rock-climbing later!!

For One of My M&Ms

These poems were written in honor of someone I haven't seen in years, but think of every day. I'm not sure which color M&M he is...blue, red, yellow and green have all been taken, but the other colors don't quite fit him. ...Yeah...that's only going to make sense to a couple of people.

~He stands alone who stand for truth
In this world filled with lies
And everywhere he turns he finds
No one can hear his cries
They think they listen, these hardened hearts
But what they do not see
Are the hands which cover every ear
In failed attempts to make men free
They smile as he speaks to them, they nod at every pause
But still the hands block out his words
Like Satan's very claws~

I don't think I finished that one...hmm. I can't remember if I thought that was completed or not. It doesn't *sound* finished. Guess I should work on it some more.

~Jezebel, Jezebel, can't you hear me calling?
Further and further I feel myself falling.
Somebody help me, does no one know how?
If ever you'll do it, the right time is now.
God cannot hear me from this pit of despair.
Somebody help me. Somebody care.~

Same thing with this one. It's been a while since I wrote these.

So, yes, I'm very capable of being dark and morose and morbid.

To the Colorless M&M--I haven't forgotten. You're always in my prayers.

Pax.

Total Randomness

I have decided that I need to spend a little more time observing people before I write my piece on Clueless People Saying Funny Things. Either that or I need to be in a different mood.

Today at work the little boy I nanny for had a song he decided he wanted to sing for me...like 400 times. It goes like this:

"Somebody told me that you were so stupid, but I didn't believe them, but now I believe them."

I know that sounds like he was being disrespectful, but he wasn't. And it's all his older brother's fault anyway--he taught him the song.

He sang this in response to many different questions I asked.

"Kolbe, do you want milk or juice with your lunch?"

"Somebody told me..."

"Kolbe, are you going to finish that?"

"Somebody told me..."

"Did you just say that you wanted to marry your sister?"

"Somebody told me..."

"Why don't you marry me instead?"

"BECAUSE...somebody told me..."

Unfortunately, I couldn't get mad at the kid. He was just adorable. He giggled through the entire song every single time, and I know he kept singing it because he liked the way my jaw dropped every time he said it. That, and the way he made his sister giggle when he sang it. I love those kids. They are the cutest...except for my little siblings. Hi Little Siblings!!! Anyway, I finally got tired of his singing it to me, and I hit him with a pillow. Aren't I a horrible nanny? Of course, he just laughed harder, so I hit him again. More laughing. Well, that just wasn't working for me, so I enlisted the help of his sister. We both hit him with pillows. For some reason he found this to be hilarious. So I tickled him. But then he laughed so hard he couldn't breathe, so I went back to hitting him with a pillow. Well, I finally got tired of hearing the cute kid laugh, so I went into the kitchen and washed dishes. :::sigh mixed with a laugh::: Oooh my goodness. Story of my life.

"So, Tracy, what did you do today?"
"Dishes."
"Ah. What did you do yesterday?"
"Dishes."
"Ah. What will you do tomorrow?"
"Dishes."
For some reason that has been the case for over 10 years. Well, on the bright side, I know how to clean a dish!

I think I need to cut down on the coffee. I had like three cups at Panera tonight, and I can *still* feel the caffeine running through my body--and it's 11:30. This just started happening a couple of weeks ago. I don't know why. Coffee didn't used to effect me this way. I guess I should start going with decaf.

Writing is an overwhelming job. Every time I start writing I find a million things I need to do research on before I can go any further. How annoying is that? That's one of the reasons I haven't written anything in so long. I get overwhelmed so easily. I think I'm a perfectionist when it comes to my writing. :::shudders::: I hate it.

Well, now it's 1:08. I started talking to my aunt, and she just left to go to bed. We usually don't see each other that much because we both keep pretty busy, but every once in a while we run into each other late at night, and end up talking for hours. Thanks, Nancy. Number one for letting me live with you, but also for being so patient and willing to listen to me talk about boring things all of the time! You're a great aunt.

Well, I have used up all of my blogging time. I'm going to get some sleep now.

Okay, I'm Sick of This!

Can *somebody* *PLEASE* tell me what I did to make my sidebar go all the way down to the bottom of the blog??? IT'S BUGGING ME! How do I get it to come back *UP*???

Funny Things Clueless People Say

I want to devote a long post to this one, but I can't really do that right now because I have to go "work". But I'm afraid I'll forget that I wanted to write about Clueless People and the Funny Things They Say, so I thought I'd put a little post up here to force me to have to come back to it.

So, yes...if you're a Clueless Person that says Funny Things, it's okay to be worried. I may be using you as an example. But, then again, I might not....

I Am Tempted

Yes. I am very tempted to write a rather long post, but I really can't. I need to get some sleep. I've been up since 6:15am, and I am tired. I have a feeling that tomorrow I may really be grouchy from lack of sleep. I don't know why it would be different from any other day...I just have a feeling it will. I'm just that way. I pay attention to what I'm feeling. Funny--if I have a feeling about something, I'm usually right. I don't know why that is. Hey, Heather, are you reading this blog? If you are, say hello in a comment box. I haven't talked to you in a while. Yes, that was a random jump, but I thought of it, so I had to say it. Anyway. I should go to bed. All of those good thoughts for good posts will go to waste, I'm afraid. Oh, wow, look at me...I'm rambling. Goody. Isn't that just wonderful. I better quit before I say someting really dumb...and I will, too. I've done it many times.

I have this story I am working on, and I haven't had time to write anything on it since last Wednesday, so I am going to do that tomorrow night. I'm excited. I like this story. And I have to like a story in order to finish writing it. Hopefully this will work out. Say a prayer for me, will y'all? I really, really, really would like to write a full length article. Really. That's a major goal that I have.

Goodnight, everybody. Sweet dreams.

To My Good Friend

Today is Saint Therese's feast day. She is my friend, my confidante and my confirmation saint. She answers every single prayer I ever pray to her.

She's great.

Saint Therese, if my fingers and my brain would just work with me, I would write you a poem! But I just don't think it's going to happen. I'm sorry. But happy feast day! Thank you for always looking out for me. I don't know why you do it, but I reeeeeally appreciate it.

You may not get a poem, but here is a rose: @-`--- It's not much compared to the dozens you have sent me, but it's the best I can do while I'm down here and you're up there.

For all of y'all who are reading this blog, if I know you, then you should thank Saint Therese too, 'cause I have prayed to her for every single person I know. Some of you more than others. So, your existence has demanded much of her attention, and you should thank her for that. ; )

Well, once again, I don't have much time to spend on this computer. My family is in town for the weekend (woo hoo!), except for my dad (hi Dad!), and they are out at my grandparents' house, so I am going to go visit them. But, knowing me, I will probably get online again tonight when I get home and blog some more...

You know, it's funny...The Padre thinks that I should get more sleep because--why, Padre?? I'm grouchy? Nah. I'm not. I may be getting less sleep since I started writing on this thing, but I've also been in a much better mood! Maybe it's the pink-ness of it all. Or the rose-ness, actually. (This particular blog is called "thisawayrose". I'm not *quite* sure how to break that up... this a way rose...this away rose...this a-way, rose...hmm.) Anyway, I'll be back!

~Tracy Marie Therese

Just Another Day in the Life of Tracy

Okay, I have decided there is absolutely no more assuming that I know who is leaving comments on my posts! I thought two people were two others, and I was way wrong...Well--I was wrong with at least one person, and I *think* I may have been wrong about another...but I'm not sure.

I guess I just didn't stop to really consider the fact that people I don't know could very well read my blog. ::laughs:: Really what bugs me is thinking that I know who wrote what, but then not knowing for *sure*. So, all of you people who write under assumed names, or go all out and remain "anonymous", thanks a lot for adding to the stress in my life. ;)

And by the way, WHO is Prof. Moriarty? I have a guess as to who it is, but I don't want to be wrong again. Anyway, thank you oh so very much for mocking my cute, little poem, Professor. Do chime in with one of your poems whenever you feel the need. If you get better, I may let you be a guest-blogger, and your poems will show up here on the actual blog instead of in the comment box. Of course, it might help if your other poems don't contain as much *cynicism*! :-b

:::sigh::: Some people....

Okay, moving on:

Today was very strange for me. I'm sure you are asking why. Well, I'll tell you. Today was strange because it was my last day to sing in the church choir. And, yeah, well...hm. It's still feeling weird to me.

I joined the choir seven years ago, almost exactly. I haven't taken a break or even just plain quit since I first joined. And, man, have there been some ups and downs in that choir!!! :::laughs::: Yes. Lots of memories there. Oh well. I will now be spending my Wednesday evenings doing something else.

It involves rocks.

And ropes.

And...well, see, I'm kinda scared, 'cause I'm not sure *what* all it involves.

Anyway, I'm going to start rock climbing. All I have to say is I hope someone is there to catch me if I fall. If they're not, then I'm going to be one dead girl on Thursday morning.

I'll let y'all know how it goes. Um. Pray for me. ; )

One Week of Many

Today is Sunday. That means this is the one week anniversary of The Art of M&Ming as a blog. Of course, the actual art existed long before this blog. I'm so glad I'm me. Otherwise, I would probably be busy living a life that had no hidden meanings or thoughts, and I would be totally bored!

Okay, I don't really have any more time to blog. I have places to go and people to see. I just wanted to write something since it is my blog's anniversary.

Goodbye!

Scotland the Brave

Derrick held the torch. Dan played the bagpipes. John played the weird Irish drum. Kevin played the other drum. They all stood in a line, then began to play their instruments. Derrick walked off into the night, and the rest followed. There were four of them when they disappeared around the side of the house, and 'Scotland the Brave' was sounding. By the time they emerged from the other side, a different song was being played, and the group had grown to about eight or nine. Derrick continued to lead the group--most in single file--through the drive-way and out onto the country road--at 10:30 at night. Down the road they marched, drums beating, bagpipes playing, and the homemade torch still burning brightly.

It's not very often that I wish I owned a video-camera, but I wished it then as I was watching that group walk down the dirt road. Like a Pied Piper, the music just drew people in. "I don't know what it is about the sound of bagpipes playing 'Scotland the Brave'," someone once said to me. "It just makes you want to jump up and march...It fires your blood." This was said with glowing eyes, which were probably envisioning a battle or two. And tonight I had to wonder if any of the guys of the Pied Piper group were feeling the same way as the man who said that to me.

I stood there watching the flame of the torch grow smaller and smaller, and the sound of the music fading farther and farther away, and I suddenly felt very sorry for the women in Scotland (and perhaps Ireland?) of long ago who had ever watched their loved ones walk away to war, following the sound of bagpipes and drums. I'm sure they did. The women. I'm sure they did watch the men walk off to war with the sound bagpipes and drums in the background. And if they didn't, they should have, 'cause it makes for a great scene!

For any of you who aren't used to the antics of the Nolan family, you may think this strange behavior. I'm sure the truck that passed them a couple hundred yards down the road thought so. But in reality, it's not strange at all--for the Nolans. This is pretty much a description of what can happen any given night while visiting their home. And, no, there was no drinking involved (or, at least, very little). The Irish just happen to have a peculiar way of entertaining themselves. I mean, come on! Marching down a dirt road with a torch, good friends, bagpipes and drums...what could be better? The only thing I can think of would be to be doing the marching in Scotland or Ireland....

That's all for tonight. I'm heading off to bed now.

Oh, by the way...

WELCOME HOME, HELEN!!!! I missed you! ; )