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?

;)