Mar 23, 2011


Yes, it's been a while since I posted. Yes, I'm going to be lazy today and post pictures. Yes, you can berate me for not having time to write something. *meekly fetches pictures*

Blooming daffodils in our front yard. Isaiah 35:1-2:
The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
Our yard sure looked like a desert and parched land there for a while. Thank you Lord for GREEN!!

A kite tail in the breeze. I love how those things snap and fly in the breeze. Isaiah 13:2:
Raise a banner on a bare hilltop, shout to them; beckon to them to enter the gates of the nobles.

I love watching the trees bud. This is a rosebud in our side yard. Psalm 96:12:
Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.
I really do think the trees are glad to get their leaves back after shivering bare all winter. :)

Beautiful green (can you tell it's my favorite color?) grass with dew! Genesis 27:28:
May God give you heaven’s dew and earth’s richness— an abundance of grain and new wine.

And that's about it for now -- that is to say, I'm tired of wrestling with Blogger and want to go outside. All pictures were taken by me and may be used for whatever, 'cause I'm cool like that. :D Hm, thinking of spring, I need a new blog design...

Mar 11, 2011

My Adventure in the Dark Pt 3

"Aaron's discovered your water closet," Wyn said, leaning on the back of the chair.
I blinked and nearly chopped the end of my finger off with mom’s chef knife. "The wha -- oh, the shower." I looked up. "Is he actually using it?"

“No. He’s just trying to figure out where that water comes from.”

A clunk from the bathroom made me wince. “He’d better not break it.”

Iri snorted and sprawled in the chair by the window. “Are you kidding? That’s what he’s best at.”

I sighed. The knife slipped again. Wyn stepped forward. “Let me do that.”

Raising an eyebrow, I handed her the knife and watched in astonishment as the carrot under the blade’s edge flew past within ten seconds. She reached for another. I shook my head and headed for the ‘water closet’.

Aaron hadn’t, in fact, broken it, at least not yet. I explained about the pipes in the wall. He asked where they went. I told him the water tower. His face showed a blank. “It’s a tower,” I said, slowly. “A tall one. With water in it. When I turn this” – I yanked the faucet around – “the water rushes down from the tower, through the pipes, and out that hole. I think.”

Aaron looked out the window. “Where’s the tower? And how do you heat it?”

I closed my eyes. “I have to go cook supper.”

Aaron tagged along behind me, barely restraining his other questions. I didn’t know how I could tell, but I did.

Strangely, I found Wyn in complete control of the supper preparations. Mom stood back, looking dazed. I watched the vegetables seem to mince themselves under her hand, then leaned over to whisper, “She grew up in an inn, working for food. Of course she’s a good cook. You’re taking this awfully well.”

Mom looked at me blankly. “I’m either dead or dreaming. You pick.”

I grimaced, yet another hope of help falling from my hands. “Dreaming, most likely,” I said, patting her comfortingly. “You’ll wake up soon.”

“I can’t wait to tell you about it tomorrow morning,” she sighed, wringing the dishcloth in her hand. I groaned.

Something clanked at the other end of the kitchen. I whirled to see Aaron standing on a chair, investigating the light fixture. “Why don’t your torches smoke?”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him down. “You’d have to talk to my dad about that one. Try not to break anything, please?”

Aaron shrugged and wandered into the living room.

“By the way,” Iri said lazily, trying too hard to look casual, “you still haven’t explained this author business.”

I forced a laugh. “There’s really not that much to explain. You all are basically my imaginary friends.”

Wyn’s knife paused. “Your what?”

“My only friends, actually.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Do you want to show them? I can take over.”

“Do,” Iri said, levering himself out of the chair. “It might clear up a lot of things.” He followed me out of the kitchen. Wyn trailed along behind. I dragged Aaron out of conversation on my way to my room, promising that this wouldn’t take long. I should have known that the technologically-minded elf would find a friend in my engineer dad.

“They’re over here,” I said, flipping on the light. The others peered around my room. I knew it was a mess, but there wasn’t much I could do about the multiple stacks of papers, books and clothes at the moment. I pulled the notebooks off my desk and passed one to each of them, keeping the last one for an example should they need one.

It turned out we didn’t need one. Aaron flipped open to the first page, read a line or two, and dropped it onto my bed, rubbing his temples. Iri reacted similarly; opening to a random page, skimming over it, then setting it down carefully with a grimace of what looked like pain. Wyn just stared blankly. I cocked an eyebrow.

“Headache,” Aaron grunted. Iri nodded and sat slowly, blinking hard.

I took the third notebook from Wyn’s unresisting hands. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“What, the writing?” Aaron squinted up at me. “The writing’s good. But I can’t … it’s …”

“Too much,” Iri groaned.

I glanced at Wyn. She looked ready to faint. I hurriedly piled the notebooks back on my desk and tossed a sweatshirt over them. “Better?”

“A little.” Aaron shook his head. “I think you’ve proven yourself, Author.”

Wyn nodded reverently.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, feeling guilty for everything; Aaron’s scars, Wyn’s past, Iri’s discomfort. This was one time that guilt was accurate. “It makes me feel important. Here.” I pulled my camera down from the top of my bookshelf. “Look at this.”

Aaron examined it, his pained expression fading. “What is it?”

Iri and Wyn gathered around to look. “A camera – that is, a painter, of sorts.”


“It makes pictures.” I pushed the power button. Aaron jumped as the lens shot out. I grinned. “Say cheese.”

All three of them puzzledly said cheese, then jumped back when the flash fired. I sighed and turned it off. “Let’s try that again. One, two three …” This time, the picture was slightly blurry, but recognizable. I tried again, separating the three and putting them back together again in different shots from every angle. Grinning, I hit the playback button. “Wait’ll I post these!”

“How does it do that?” Wyn bent over a picture of herself, mouth open in wonder.

“There’s a … device inside, that paints pictures.”

“It’s awfully fast. How does it not run out of paint?”

“It’s digital,” I answered, then remembered that my modern descriptions didn’t do anything for them. Earth to Carseld. Elaya, we have a problem… “Listen, you’ll have to trust me.”

“The last time you said that, it got messy,” Iri grumbled.

Mar 2, 2011


I'm addicted to Minesweeper.

No, really.

I was tempted to post a picture of myself attempting to play the advanced version, but I decided not to be deceptive. Truth is, I'm not even very good at it. It frustrates me. I tell myself I'm building up a tolerance for numbers (something not included in my particular brain package, evidently), that I'm learning logic (if this mine is here, then it can't be here, so I can click here ... whoops) and that I'm familiarizing myself with the level of graphics on my new laptop.

See, it came with these cool sound effects, and all the mines blow up when you find one, and it even has a "Flower Garden" mode for the people who can't handle the violence mines entail ...

Ahem. Sorry. Point is -- I couldn't hide this from myself for long -- I'm procrastinating. I almost always have a word document open in the background that I can't stand to face. At least, not yet. Just one more game.

When it's not Minesweeper, it's electronic chess, or solitare, or you-name-it. The fact that my fans are clamoring for the full edited first draft sometimes does light a fire under me, but there are those times when nothing will come together. So I resort to that lovely little game icon on my taskbar.

"So be careful to do what the LORD your God has commanded you; do not turn aside to the right or to the left..." (Deuteronomy 5:32)


Writing/revision is tricky and exhausting. So is my mind. I will go to no end to convince myself that I am doing something productive when I'm really just wasting my precious time. A little aside here, I do think that the occasional game break is good. Get your mind off the story, get a fresh look. Chess, minesweeper, whatever your procrastination method is, go for it. Just make sure to come back after a reasonable amount of time? Please?

*makes note to self and resolutely glues the word document to her screen*