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July Creative Challenge, Day 16 Topsy-Turvy (part 2)

This post continues the story of Sweet Flower, Jeffry and Constance — a cooperative story that is being written my myself and my daughter. If you have not read part one please go HERE and do so now.

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“What the  moo was that?”

Jeffry looked at the girl “What?”

The girl looked at Jeffry “What?”

“I said,” said Sweet Flower, “What the moo was that?”

“Is your cow talking to us?” asked the girl.

“Uh… yeah I guess she is”  Jeffry couldn’t quite believe it either. “And, by the way… what the moo was that?”

By the looks of it they were clear on the other side of the valley. He could just make out their peach tree way, way, way, way off in the distance.  “How’d we get way over here?”

“Hold on a sec.” She was about to take another giant step when she noticed Jeffry had let go of Sweet Flower’s collar. “No, really, HOLD ON. We’ve got to get a bit more distance behind us before we can stop to have a pretty little chat.”

Jeffry held on to his cow.

The girl concentrated and stepped  and… poof… they were another 3 miles up the valley.

“How are you doing–” Before Jeffry could finish his statement she took another giagantor step. “– that?
”

Step

Step

Step

Jeffry was turning a nasty shade of green by the seventh step. “Please tell me you are going to stop.” She looked at him raising first one eyebrow, then the other, then both.

“Fine. I’d really rather the cow throw up, not you.”

Step

“I really don’t want anybody to throw up, if that’s alright, so could we just STOP for a minute?”

“Fine. We can walk normally for at least a little while before they catch up.”

“Who are ‘THEY’?”

“People I’d rather we not meet.”

“Is it because they eat meat?” Sweet Flower had found her voice again. She blinked her big brown eyes at them. Then, because they were standing in a field of barley, she leaned her head down and started to munch on the barley. “Hmmm… nutty with a note of summer sun.”

“Yes. And they’re also mighty fond of killing humans too.” The girl leaned in to Jeffry as they watched Sweet Flower, “ I can take a talking cow, but a pun making cow… I’m not so sure about that.”

“I don’t think you have much room to make demands, Miss. In fact, who do you think you are? I don’t know where I am or where we’re going, or even what your name is!” He was starting to yell, “ You landed on me! You pulled me out of my village! You’re stealing my cow! You’ve kidnapped me!” Her eyebrows were moving again, but she looked as if she didn’t intend to say anything until his rant was over, so he continued, ”You’re clearly on the run, you’re probably some kind of escaped convict!” He said feeling his rant crest. “I’ve been kidnapped by a cow thief, and… Lord knows what else you’ve done! You’re probably in trouble with the king… or you will be!”

Her arms now as crossed over her chest (or at least she crossed them as much as she could. Here heavy back packs prevented the full “arms over chest” stance of defiance she was going for.) She listened patiently to the last few puffs of his tirade. “The king knows exactly what I’m doing. My name is Constance Middlelaine. I’m the second daughter of King Wyco and Queen Gingerdale Middlelaine. It’s under HIS orders that I travel.”

“You’re a princess? You?” He shook his head, “Princesses live in towers and raise golden sheep and sing to the birdies and their sheep all day. They don’t go hairing round the country getting their shoes eaten by magic cows.”

A stunned look crossed her face for a moment, “How would I fit the sheep in the tower– nevermind. I am a princess and I can prove it. And there’s no such thing as golden sheep.” She lifted her braid to reveal a blue spot where her neck met her chin. It was in the shape of a crown, the royal mark. Now that he took a closer look at her, she did seem a bit more princess-y than most of the people he’d ever met. Her scarlet jacket was made of high-quality cloth, and her tunic was really a pink dress trimmed in gold, just tucked up to look like a shirt. She wore brown trousers, but they were an even, amber-like color, not like his bark-dyed wool ones. Her’s were tucked neatly into socks at the knee (though the sock without a slipper was looking a bit worse for wear at the moment). The final clinching detail was the gold band that fastened her braid.

At last, all he could say was, “Oh.”

“The men that are chasing us think that by kidnapping me or one of my sisters they can make my parents to ban magic from our lands. They hate magic, you see, even though they’re willing to use it to kidnap me. They attacked our castle in Middlelaine while my parents were visiting one of our other domains. I sent my sisters a head through a portal, but some one had to shut that down manually.  I’ve been running by myself  since. My slipper–” She took the pink and gold slipper off her foot  and waved it under his nose “– these slippers —  are three-mile-slippers. They let me travel three miles with each step, but they only work when they’re together, so I have to stick with the cow.”

“I have a name, you know.” Sweet Flower had finished with her meal.

“I’m very sorry, my lady cow.” Constance blinked from Jeffry to the cow. She realized that she had been very rude to the heifer by speaking about her in third person. She gave her a low curtsy, “Pray tell what it is?”

“She’s Sweet Flower,” volunteered Jeffry.

“How do you do my dear bovine Sweet Flower?”

Sweet Flower shrugged “You know, cant complain.”

Constance gave the cow an affectionate pat on the side of the neck. “You are a most extraordinary cow.”

This warmed Jeffry to the Princess. He patted Sweet Flower on the other side of her neck. “You know, I think you’re right about that.” He reached over the cow and offered the Princess his hand.  “I’m Jeffry, by the way,  Jeffry Herdman.”

The Princess softened to an apology, “I do beg your pardon for all this. Rest assured you will be well rewarded when we reach my parent’s castle. It should only be a day or two of leaps away.”

He had to admit, she did look genuinely sorry. He decided that if a Princess with magical slippers was going to bound out of nowhere and knock into him and steal his cow it might as well be her. She wasn’t so bad.

“I promise I will get you home, but we should probably move now. There was a pair of two-mile-shoes left in the castle. They’re bound to be following us.”

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Just when Jeffry thought he was getting the hang of this land leaping thing they landed in a river. The Colomious River ran deep but not very swiftly in the spot where they splashed.  They sank down to the rocky river bed then zoomed up to the surface.

Landing in a river is not a pleasant thing. “Mooooo!” Sweet Flower complained when her head broke the surface.

Jeffry, whose mouth had been open when they leaped got a mouth full of river water. He coughed it out. “Can we please not do that again?

“Sorry.” Constance apologized. “Land leaping is not an exact science, sometimes you land in the water.”

“Sometimes you land on people!” Jeffry grumbled. Constance and Jeffry began to swim to the shore, Sweet Flower began to cow-paddle in the same direction.

Soaking wet and miserable the dragged themselves onto the pebbly beach and caught their breath. Jeffry began to remove his waterlogged apparel, surely Constance would let them rest a bit while their clothes dried in the sun.

“What are you doing?” She asked as she turned from him.

“Nothing, I’m just getting out of these wet clothes.”

“Mooooooooooooo.” Sweet Flower said in a cow version of a cat call. Sure she could talk now… but sometimes mooing was just as good.

“So they can DRY.” He said defensively.

“How about — um… NO.” Constance pointed down the beach. There was a village a short walk away. “Lets go into the that village and find some dry clothing instead.”

Jeffry shrugged and pulled his wet tunic back on.  As the trio trudged got closer to the village they began to hear music and laughter. When the came arround the bend they saw a fantastic array of tents in a field outside of town.

“Oooh the circus is in town!” Exclaimed Constance. She ran ahead and Jeffry and the cow followed. She stopped at a campfire and spoke to the strangest assortment of people Jeffry had ever seen.

One had double jointed limbs and was practicing his contortionist’s act. He seemed to be doubling into himself, bending himself into an impossible pretzel of a knot, then straightening himself back out again.

The man next to him stood eight feet tall on long skinny legs and the man next to him only came up to Jeffry’s elbow.

There was an organ grinder with a little monkey who danced around when the man played music and sat sullenly when the music stopped.

There were two twins dressed in matching, fancy, shiny, tunics who practiced walking on a wire strung from one tent pole to the next.

“This is Gorlando, the Great.” said Constance as she indicated a man dressed in a dapper suit with silk pantaloons and a frilly shirt. He carried a cane, but never seemed to use it for balance or to actually aid him in walking. “He is Ringmaster here and the finest magician in the land.” She nodded at Jeffry and Sweet Flower, “these are my travelling companions, Jeffry and Sweet Flower. He’s a shepherd from the valley and she’s… well, his cow.”

Jeffry was having a little trouble taking all this in. He WAS just a shepherd from the valley and he had never seen anything or anyone like this before. His mouth and eyes were wide with amazement… until the more sophisticated Constance nudged him and whispered, “It’s not polite to stare Jeffry, dear.” He shut his gob, but not before a bug flew inside.

With as much dignity as he could manage he spit the bug out.

Sweet Flower, never one to pass up a free gift, quickly picked up the dazed fly with her own mouth and started to chew. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Listen.” Constance said, a little annoyed at their country antics, “I’ve explained the situation to The magnanimous Gorlando and he is going to give us some dry clothes and  have a few of his men take us up the inn where we can rest.”

“Oh, that’s very kind.” Said Sweet Flower.

“But is that safe?” Asked Jeffry. “I mean if you” he nodded to Constance “Are so worried about the bad guys catching up, should we be stopping to rest.”

“Ohhhhhh, suddenly you’re the pragmatist.” Constance complained. “Look, FARM BOY!” She poked a finger in Jeffry’s chest, “this is an issue that involves the entire Magic community, and The Great Gorlando is part of that community. He won’t let anything happen to us while we are in his care.” She yawned, and removed her pokey finger so she could cover her mouth. When she spoke again her voice had moved from anger and command to a pathetic whine. “I’ve been Land Leaping for days, and I need a nap. Is that so much to ask?”

“No.” Jeffry felt defeated when he hadn’t even known he’d been in an argument. He was fine with resting for a while. He just wanted to make sure the princess would be safe. “I –”

“It’s alright, little farm boy,” said Gorlando with a smile, “I’ll put my best men on it.” He called over to the group. “Caston, Bator, Ludvinnio might I borrow you for a special assignment?”

The contortionist, the 8 foot tall man, and the midget got up from the fire and hurried over to their boss. “I want get these three some clothing and take them to the Hogs Barrow Inn, tell Old Fellsworth, the innkeeper, to give them a nice comfortable room and to send the bill to me.”

“Yes boss.” Said the contortionist.  The three turned to lead the way to the Hogs Barrow Inn when The Great Gorlando stopped them.

“Just a moment. I think the lad may be right. We need to make a bigger show of force so no one messes with you.” He pointed his cane toward Caston. A puff a smoke came from the end of the cane and blew into his face. When the smoke cleared the contortionist was huge rock encrusted being.

“Yes!” He pumped his enormous rocky hand in the air. “I’m the Golem again.”

With a second poof the eight foot tall man, Bator, was turned into a huge hairy man with big heavy features. The giant held up his hands examined the huge fist with a smile. “Excellent, thank you Gorlando.”

“And what would you like to be?” The Great Gorlando asked Ludvinnio, the midget.

“Something big and impressive, of course.” He said “and maybe something impenetrable?”

Gorlando considered for a minute. “How about this?” He pointed the cane and transformed the midget into a gigantic metal man.

Ludvinnio clicked his claw like hands. “Very nice, mistro, very nice indeed.”

“So, goat boy, do you feel safer now?” The Ringmaster asked as Ludvinnio carefully picked up the sleepy Princess and carried her off toward the town.

“Sheep boy.” Jeffry grumbled.

“What was that?”

“He said ‘thank you very much.” Said Sweet Flower over her shoulder.

The cow nudged the boy and he turned and gave a bow. “Yes, thank you maestro Gorlando you have been very kind.”

As they had to walk on cow and boy sized legs and the Golem, Giant and Metal Man were walking on enormous Golem, Giant and Metal Man sized legs, Jeffry and Sweet Flower were soon out paced by their companions.

To cheer up Jeffry as they trudged into the village Sweet Flower started a little word game… “The Great Garbonzo.” She said with a little heifer snort. “Garbage-io the Magnificent… The One, The Only Garlic-Breath-io.” By now Jeffry was smiling too. “His cheesiest, Sir Gorgonzalo.”

“Don’t forget the Gardinia the sweet smelling.” Jeffry offered.

Sweet Flower snorted with delight. “Ohh stop, you’ll give me the hiccups,” she laughed, “And my milk will curdle.”

“Or maybe you’ll make milkshakes tonight?”

But at that moment both boy and cow stopped laughing. A commotion up ahead warned them that something was amiss. They hurried forward and when the sign for the Hog Barrow  flew through the air and landed at their feet they broke into an all out run.

[End of part two]


Muffin Monday Cranb Peach Choc

IMG_0210

I was debating what kind of muffins to make today. I had peaches from the market, and I wanted to see how they’d pair with cranberries … and then I thought… why not lets add some dark chocolate chips.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 1 cup Dried Cranberries
  • 1/2 cup hot Water
  • 1 cup diced fresh Peaches
  • 1 cup Dark Chocolate Chips
  • 1/4 cup softened Butter
  • 3/4 cup Sugar
  • 1 Egg
  • 1/4 cup Sour Cream
  • 1/2 cup Skim Milk
  • 2 1/2 cup Flour
  • 1/2 tea Salt
  • 3/4 Tea Baking Soda

DIRECTIONS:

1. Pre heat oven to 350 degrees and prepare muffin cups.

2. Put the Dried Cranberries into the water and let soak for 5 minutes.

IMG_0202

Drain the cranberries and set aside.

3. In a large bowl combine the softened Butter and Sugar, then add the Egg. Work until the batter is smooth.

4. In a large measuring cup combine the Sour Cream and Skim Milk.Add it to the Batter.

5. In a smaller bowl measure out the flour, Salt and Baking Soda. Stir to combine, then add it to the batter.

6. Gently stir the Cranberry and Peach into the batter.

IMG_0205

Cranberries, bottom of picture, and Peaches, top of picture just before they are gently stirred into the batter.

7. Fold in 3/4 cup of  Chocolate Chips. (Reserve the rest of the chips for the next step.) (OK you can eat one chip, but don’t tell anybody.)

8. Divide evenly into muffin cups (my batter actually made 13 muffins.) Divide the remaining Chocolate chips and place on top of the muffins.

9. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes until tops are golden brown and the toothpick test confirms that they are done.

10. Take out of the oven and let rest 5 minutes before removing from muffin cups. Since these have Chocolate Chips on the top let them cool another 5 minutes before eating.

Muffins fresh from the oven.

Muffins fresh from the oven.

I think the Peach/Cranberry combination is a hit. And the Dark Chocolate is an extra bonus.

Milk is optional.

Milk is optional.


July Creative Challenge, Day 14, Topsy-Turvy

Another blog I follow suggested doing a topsy-turvy kind of day — do something you’ve never done before. I’m still digging the Character For An Epic Tale (C.F.A.E.T)  theme that was yesterday’s prompt so today my daughter Maggie and I decided to join forces and write a cooperative story using as many of the C.F.A.E.T as we could. We make a good team, and we cooperate on a lot of things, but I don’t know that we’ve ever cooperated on a story of this magnitude. And I know for sure we’ve never done it with the help of Google Docs.  But that’s what you are getting today. At least you are getting the first bit of it.

We both love to write so this short story (which is supposed to be epic anyway) runs on the long side. Here’s part one:

 

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Constance and the Cow

It is an epic tale. I should have told it to you sooner, but I didn’t think  you would believe me.  You probably still wont believe me, but kindly remember, I’m just the messenger… and sometimes a story takes on a life all its own. It becomes an unwieldy hairy beast of ink on paper, dots on screen, and as a writer the best I can do is hold my breath and let it flow through me.

Prologue:

The first thing I should tell you about is Sweet Flower. Sweet Flower was a girl a long time ago, the daughter of an inn keeper in the town of Bowder. One day  three old women, crones, came into Bowder seeking to sell herbs at the market. But the town and the market was unkind to them that day and they did not have enough money to stay at the inn. They didn’t even have enough money for a cup of porridge.

Sweet Flower’s father was a stingy, hard man when it came to business and he turned the old women away with out a cup of water or a crust of bread. But Sweet Flower had a  kind heart and she snuck outside with a pitcher of milk and pocket full of golden corn muffins. “Here” she said to the old women. “I sorry it isn’t more.”

The tallest of the old women turned to her and grabbed the milk. “Your father” she hissed “should not have been so cruel to three poor wanders.”

The second tallest of the old women grabbed the muffins. “He will be punished for the way he treated us.” She croaked. “This town of Bowder should have treated us better too. They’ll pay as well.”

Suddenly Sweet Flower realized that these old women were more than just peasant beggar women, they were witches. She feared for her father, for the town and for herself.  She took  a step back.

The smallest of the old women reached a gnarled hand out and grabbed Sweet Flower by the arm. “But you have shown kindness so we will give you a chance to escape.”

“Escape?” cried Sweet Flower. “From WHAT?”

In a chorus the three witches hissed out her “From our revenge!”

Sweet Flower wiggled out of the third witch’s grasp “Oh, no.”  and ran back toward the Inn.

“Tell no one or you will suffer as well!” They warned with an evil cackle.

As Sweet Flower gave one last terrified look over her shoulder the witches pressed in on one another and with one maniacal laugh they morphed into a giant evil blue cat.

Sweet Flower ran as fast as she could out of the village. Just as she reached the woods she met a peasant boy going up the lane. “Don’t go in!” She cried grasping him by the shoulders, “There are witches and a giant cat, and…”

The boy looked at her as if she was insane. “Yeah, well…” he said rather dumbly, “That’s all very nice, but I’ve these magic beans to sell, so, if you don’t mind letting go of me I’ll be on my way. ‘K?”

“But…”

He shook off her hand and went on his way (checking that she hadn’t lifted the magic beans from his pocket.)

With the evil laugh still ringing in her ears Sweet Flower  continued to run until the moon  was high. An unworldly blue glow hovered over her village and occasional red and purple explosions  lit up the night sky. She was nearly to the edge of the forest when she tripped on a root and struck her head on the tree trunk. As she began to loose consciousness she started to feel very strange indeed.

When Sweet Flower awoke she  could only remember three things.

  • Her name was Sweet Flower
  • She was a COW and
  • She was very fond of grass.

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It was two years to the day that Jeffry  the farm boy had found the golden bottomed cow grazing on one of the hills outside his village. He claimed the cow for his own. Because hey, who was going to argue, this was more of a sheep town really. He only knew what a cow looked like because of the missing cow pictures on the side of the milk cartons, and she didn’t look anything like one of those.

Jeffry had never been outside his village, which was in a low, grassy basin, at the foot of several towering hills. He had never been over those hills, although Bruno , his second oldest brother, who had once been a wrestler with the fair, told him it was ten miles from the top of one hill to the other.

He and his golden bottomed cow stuck to the clover field next to the withered old peach tree. They were at this favored spot one morning when something quite unusual happened. Jeffry had finished his sandwich. Sweet Flower was devouring a particularly lovely clump of clover — It was exactly like every other clump of clover in the field, but as it was the current one…it was obviously the best.

Both boy and cow were facing west, which was the entirely wrong direction to face to see the disruption of dust  and small rock slide that occurred suddenly and explicably at the top of a hill about three miles away.

They could not, however, miss the next disruption when a second, much closer, puff of dust appeared and something crashed into Jeffry, knocking him over in a scattering of sandwich crusts and slippers.

Sweet Flower gave an unconcerned look. Then she returned to her patch of clover as a girl with the dark braid straightened up, brushed herself off  and put a hand down to help Jeffry up. “I’m so terribly sorry.” She said, brushing the last of the dust off her nose. “I was in quite the rush, so I couldn’t see where I was going. “ She looked down at her toes. “Oh no my slippers!”

“What slippers?” He asked, dumbfoundedly as she began to look frantically in the clover around them.

“My slippers I need them!!”

“There’s a cobbler in the village.” He said unhelpfully.

“These are special — oh, it’s hard to explain.”

Jeffry began to search through the grass with her.  “ Um — Where did you come from?”

“Middlelaine.”

“But that’s three countries over!” It was a place he had only heard of from Bruno, and he has suspected his brother had made it up. Castles with glass roofs and kings that rode dancing bears were just the sort of thing Bruno would say to pull a tall tale on him.

She looked up at him for a moment, “Is it really? I’m making excellent time then. I’ve only been running for three days.”

Perhaps she was mad, he decided as he spied a pink and gold shoe on a gnarled tree branch. He figured he’d best fetch it down for her. The sooner she had her shoes, the sooner she’d get going, the sooner he’d be left in peace. He was descending the tree with a cobbler’s confection of a prize in hand, wondering how she had snuck up on him so quietly, when she squealed.

“Oh excellent! Excellent! You’ve got it! Now we just need to find the other one.” He tossed it to her and she tugged it on. As she looked up to begin the search again she gasped and pointed behind him, “ Oh no!”

Sweet Flower had decided to deviate from her usual meal of clover and grass to try a bit of shoe leather. Pink and gold shoe leather to be exact. She had found she wasn’t fond of it, but had already swallowed most of the entree before judging its full distasteful manner. It had just disappeared into her mouth when the girl gasped.

“Sorry. She’s an odd eater.” Jeffry patted the cows shoulder and she nudged him affectionately with her head.

The girl groaned, “ no… oh no, no, no, no, no, no. Look I need to get out of here. They were only a bit behind me last night. I’ve already wasted too much time here.” She stared at the cow as if she could will the slipper back out of her mouth. The girl stood still just long enough unnerve Jeffry a bit further before she snapped her head as if making a decision, “ Right, well the cow is just going to have to come with me.”

“You can’t take me cow! I know she ate your shoe, but cows are worth a couple of dozen shoes. And she’s MY cow.” He held on to Sweet Flower’s collar possessively, “I won’t let her out of my sight!”

“Then you’ll have to come with us too.” Within a quick stride the girl took a hold of Sweet Flower’s collar just under where Jeffry had impulsively grabbed it.

She stepped forward and the cow moved with her. A puff of dust erupted around them and Jeffry felt himself pulled by the collar with tremendous force. A second later the dust cleared and he could see that they were now on top of the hill on the far side of the valley, and further from the village than he had ever been in his life.

to be continued…


July Creative Challenge, Day 13: Epic

Epic Tale

The always creative blogger Sidie from Viewfromtheside’s Blog came up with an interesting challenge once again  … do SOMETHING with the character sketches in the illustration above.

Right away I noticed some familiar “faces”. I could do a pretty good Hamlet / Game of Thrones mash-up if you weren’t afraid that George R.R. Martin would send the Red Woman after me.

In leu of that I’ll just identify the major players in G.O.T. so far. WARNING… SPOILER ALERTS!!!!

The Kings Landing Crew:

kinglanding1

As  you’ll remember from my June 12th Thought of the Day,  I think Peter Dinklage’s Tyrion is the cat’s pajamas. There is a reason he won an Emmy for the role… he’s fantastic.

Here's a great promo shot of Tyrion from Season Three. [Image courtesy HBO]

Here’s a great promo shot of Tyrion from Season Three. [Image courtesy HBO]

Tyrion and his big brother and sister are in Kings Landing because Cersei is Queen to King Robert. But this is a whole GAME of thrones, Robert isn’t the only king in Westeros. And when a ‘hunting accident’ does him in there are several contenders  for the iron throne.

Kings in the Corner:

Kings in the corner

The worst of the bunch — the one everyone loves to hate — is  Joffrey. He is a wicked, wicked lad. I don’t think I’ve hated a character this much since… Caligula in I, Claudius.

[Image courtesy: HBO]

[Image courtesy: HBO]

If Joffery is corrupt, self-centered, evil, malicious, his counter parts are the Stark family of Winterfell. Unfortunately for the Starks George R.R. Martin likes to kill off all the noble,  moral characters.

Winterfellians of note:

Winterfellians of note

Sorry Robb, I guess that should be a wolf-a-taur. Too much? I still have Post Red Wedding Stress Syndrome. My humor is my way of dealing with the loss of so many beloved characters at one time.

And there is no Damsel or Lady icon on the original list, so not much I could do for Sansa or Catelyn.

I’m holding out for Arya and Jon. Maybe they’ll make it. But will they make it with their humanity in tack?

Jon Snow before he joins the Night's Watch. [Image courtesy: HBO]

Hang in there Jon. We need a hero at the end of the night, and he’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast, and he’s gotta be larger than life.   [Image courtesy: HBO]


July Creative Challenge, day 12: Words, words, words

hamlet with skull

Dude. What makes you so interesting anyway? Why should I spend four and a half hours of my life watching YOU mope about the stage debating your sanity and your mother’s fidelity? I’ve got problems of my own, you know, buddy. I don’t have time to worry about your to be’s or not to be’s. I mean it was 412 years ago… if you haven’t figured it out by now, let it go. For reals.

Ohh, rude-urban-slang Rita, me thinks you dost protest too much.

Hamlet is one of the greatest literary treasures of the English language and, in reality I am thrilled to be spending several evenings (and Sunday afternoons) with the great Dane over the next few weeks. I don’t have to travel to Elsinore Castle or even The Globe Theatre in London. The Baltimore Shakespeare Factory is putting on Hamlet right here in Charm City as part of the Summer of Magic and Mayhem.

Poster for Hamlet courtesy foxpop communications.

Poster for Hamlet courtesy Baltimore Shakespeare Factory and  VoxPop Communications.

Tom Delise, the Baltimore Shakespeare Factory’s Artistic Director told broadwayworld.com that “HAMLET is not simply the tragedy of the Prince of Denmark — it is also a ghost story, a detective story, a love story, a story of power and ambition, a revenge story, and even at times, a comedy.” [baltimore.broadwayworld.com]

The Factory works the words.

They delve heavily into Shakespeare’s original text to find “unexpected humor and provide clarity for audiences of all ages.” [Ibid] They talk to the audience (and are prepared for the audience to talk back to them.) That engagement between player and patron brings the Shakespeare experience to a whole new level.

Hamlet is playing at three locations (the BSF’s year round home at St. Mary’s in Hampden, at Evergreen, and at Boordy  Vineyards) with the bulk of the performances occurring in the Meadow at Evergreen. When you go bring sun screen, bug spray, a blanket or lawn chair and an umbrella .

A little audience inter action during last year's Taming of the Shrew. [Image courtesy: Baltimore Shakespeare Factory.]

A little audience engagement during last year’s Taming of the Shrew. [Image courtesy: Baltimore Shakespeare Factory.]

The second production  the Factory is mounting this summer is A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s another of the Bard’s most popular plays.  It’s a more family friendly option if you’ve got young Shakespeare lovers.  It has less death (corpse count: Midsummer O /  Hamlet’s 8 — plus the Ghost)  and more fairies. There’s love, there’s magic…there’s even a guy who literally gets his head turned into that of an Ass. How fun is that?

Poster for A Midsummer Night's Dream. [Image courtesy: foxpop communications]

Poster for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. [Image courtesy: Baltimore Shakespeare Factory and VoxPop Communications]

I have a special spot in my heart for Midsummer, especially for Puck, that merry wanderer of the night!

Click HERE to see Hamlet’s schedule.

Click HERE to see Midsummer’s Schedule.

BSF 1-6 ad pg 20

Here’s an ad I did for the Factory that ran in Mason-Dixon ARRIVE

Hope to see you under the stars for some swordplay and Shakespeare this summer!


July Creative Challenge Day 11, Parting Thoughts

endings

Well, if yesterday took a look at famous opening lines, I have to do famous ending lines today, don’t I? So… beware of SPOILERS!!! Here are the last lines to some famous novels, and some of my favorites. Please comment with your own faves.

lasting Impressions4

Lasting 3

Lasting 1

lasting 2

Want to take a quiz to test you mad “last line” skills? …[Click Here]


July Creative Challenge, Day 10: First Impressions

Openings

A well crafted first sentence is a work of art. It is the gateway to a good novel… a treasure to roll around on your tongue … the road map for the next 300 pages. I recently came across the American Book Review’s “100 Best First Lines From Novels” which got me thinking about some of my own favorites. This is, by no means, a complete list, feel free to contribute your own suggestions.  [To read the American Book Review’s full list go HERE.]

Point go to any one who can name the author of all the books. (Hint: There’s a Ford Maddox Ford in there that I don’t expect any one to get.) You get bonus points for each book you’ve read.

First lines 1

First lines 2

First Lines 3Oh, and incase you are keeping count… I didn’t do a hundred. I do have a little bit of a life to attend to…

July Creative Challenge Day 11: Parting Thoughts


July Creative Challenge, day 9: Grudge

 

 

 

Close up grass

Close up grass (Photo credit: samk)

 

Siobhan Finch’s absence was noted.

 

 

 

 

 

The two old women tisk to one another about the situation as they as they shell peas and rock back and forth in their rocking chairs under the big chestnut tree in front of Auntie Bess’s cottage.

 

 

 

 

 

I listen as their gossip runs its usual course. My dollies, lined up in the carpet of grass before me, exchange wardrobes and hold their own silent conversations.

 

 

 

 

 

Da has sent me over to the cottage with my backpack of Barbies and a sack of pea pods. It is payment for the favor of watching me for the afternoon. The Aunties, Bess and Colleen, assured him it is “no trouble at all, don’t you know.” But he always sends me with something from our little farm, and, they always take it.

 

 

 

 

 

The Aunties don’t have a TV, but their cottage has a fairy tale feeling to it. It has a thatched roof and  the smell of baked goods lingers in the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

Auntie Colleen is famous throughout the county for the cookies and cakes she bakes in the wood burning stove. I was sworn by Virgin and all that is Holy NOT TO TOUCH that hot stove — if I did there would be no more cookies or cakes and worse would come in the after life. Of course, I made the promise. But, as I am almost always here in the afternoon, and the afternoon is the hottest part of the day, the baking is long finished and stove is cool by the time I arrive, so the warning, and the promise is hardly necessary.

 

 

 

 

 

Most days we sit under the big chestnut tree and talk. Or rather they talk and I listen. My Aunties have a very healthy distrust of silence and do all they can to fill it. Sometimes they retell stories that are so worked over and worn out that the original plot has a patchwork quilt of “hmmms” and “you knows” and private old lady giggles of things long remembered.

 

 

 

 

 

Today their chatter focuses on gossip. There had been a social at the church after services on Sunday. Auntie Bess had taken charge of the kitchen and, with the help of a half-dozen of St. Bridget’s finest, had put out a fine fish and ham dinner. Auntie Colleen headed up the dessert table and had been busy arranging and organizing the dozens of sweets as the baskets came in.

 

 

 

 

 

They discuss who brought which dish, who helped in the kitchen, who wore what, who sat near whom. They critique Pastor O’Grady’s grace and complain that Finella McDowell at twice as much dessert as anyone else.

 

 

 

 

 

They feed off each other, as usual, and what started as pleasant commentary became sharp-tongued and bitter bad-mouthing. And, as usual, they eventually turn to the subject of Siobhan Finch.

 

 

 

 

 

“I suppose she was too BUSY to make our little soiree.”
“Tch, too busy indeed. Too above it more like.”
“Couldn’t be bothered to help out the church.”
“Well, my dear I never thought she would make it.”
“Not that we missed her in the kitchen.”
“No, no, nor I, over at desserts.”

 

 

 

 

 

Then, as usual, they move back in time to some long ago slight that marked Siobhan Finch as a woman of scorn. She had once dated the boy Auntie Bess had marked as her beau. As far as I can tell it had only been one date and when Auntie Bess confronted her about it she broke it off with the young man. But still the nerve. She also had the gall to enter and WIN a baking contest in which Auntie Colleen was a contestant. Auntie Colleen was a God-fearing and humble woman, she had no claim on the Best Pie In County Slingo ribbon, but to lose to THAT woman. It was too much.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, well, there was more sugar involved in all that than made it in the pie” Auntie Colleen nods toward me and Auntie Bess knows she is speaking in code. “Not that I could ever prove it.”

 

 

 

 

 

I begin to zone out. I’ve heard this story, these grudges a thousand times.

 

 

 

 

 

At supper when Da came to pick me up I kissed the Aunties good-bye and  slip into the pick up truck seat next to him. When we  clear the fence, and  I know we we’re out of hearing range I ask him why the Aunties still hate Siobhan Finch so much.

 

 

 

 

 

He shrugs.

 

 

 

 

 

“They’re Irish, darlin’. ”

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve heard that before. The Aunties themselves have told me never to cross an Irish man for he’ll remember the slight the rest of his life.

 

 

 

 

 

“But we’re Irish too, Da.”

 

 

 

 

 

I remind him. And I know he isn’t that way. I’ve seen him step away from a fight. I’ve known him to find a solution where others would just throw up their hands in disgust. I know my Da has the biggest heart in three counties.

 

 

 

 

 

As we pulled up the gravel drive to our farm-house he thinks some more on my question.

 

 

 

 

 

“Your Aunties like to hold on to things that hurt ‘em. They pet it, and squeeze it, and polish it, and love that pain to death. It’s as if that ole grudge is lump of coal and somehow, if they give it enough attention, they can it worry into a diamond. But in the end all they get is dirty hands.”

 

 

 

 

 

As he throws the truck into the park he looks over to me and asks if that makes sense.

 

 

 

 

 

In reply I spit into my hands and wipe them gingerly down the front of my dress.

 

 

 

 

 

He eyes me with that look — wondering what his crazy daughter is up to now.

 

 

 

 

 

“What’s that you’re doing darlin’?”
“Getting rid of the bad.” I tell him.

 

 

 

 

 

My Da lets out a mighty bark of laughter then spits in his own hands and wipes them on his overalls.

 

 

 

 

 

“Lets go get us some supper, then.”

 

 

 

 

 


Muffin Monday: Peaches, Strawberry and Cream

Welcome back to Muffin Monday! I picked up some Peaches and Strawberries at an obliging farm stand for today’s recipe. Enjoy!

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INGREDIENTS:

  • 1 stick of BUTTER, softened
  • 1/2 cup of  SUGAR
  • 2 EGGS
  • 1 teaspoon VANILLA EXTRACT
  • 1/2 cup Creamy GOAT CHEESE

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  • 1 cup STRAWBERRIES
  • 1 1/2 cup PEACHES
  • 1 LEMON PEEL (zested)
  • 2 1/2 cups of FLOUR
  • 2 1/2 teaspoon BAKING SODA
  • Extra SUGAR for topping

DIRECTIONS:

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Prep the  muffin cups by spraying with cooking oil.

2. Chop the Strawberries into quarter-inch pieces. Chop the Peaches into 1/2″ pieces. Zest the Lemon.

3. In a large bowl combine the softened Butter and Sugar. Add Eggs one at a time. Add Vanilla and Goat Cheese. Add the Strawberries, Peaches and Lemon Zest.

4. In a second bowl combine the Flour and Baking Powder.

5. Add the dry the ingredients to the wet and mix completely.

6. Divide the batter evenly into the 12 muffin cups. Top with a bit of extra sugar.

7. Bake for 35-40 minute until a tooth pick inserted into the center of one of the muffin comes out clean.  Let cool for 5 minute before  enjoying.

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