Author Archives: lydias

I recently read a blog post from Elena Square Eyes that made my heart flutter.

Last year she kept track of all of the good things that happened to her in 2013 and blogged about it at the end of the year. She has a cute glass jar to hold the slips of paper commemorating all of the good things that happen to her.

I decided to be thrifty, honour my roots, and reuse an old yogurt container. It’s  pretty plain for now. Perhaps I’ll find some construction or wrapping paper somewhere over the next 12 months to give it some sort of decorative flair.

In the meantime, I’ve discovered my first entry for my makeshift jar: Amelia.

She was born a few weeks ago and is my first niece. I can’t think of a better way to begin 2014.

What does your 2014 jar of good things look like?

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, fiction, poems, statistics, drawings, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

January 26, 1966 via CoyoteSings. This is such a great post.

From Jackalope Wives:

Now, it happened there was a young man in town who had a touch of magic on him. It had come down to him on his mother’s side, as happens now and again, and it was worse than useless.

A little magic is worse than none, for it draws the wrong sort of attention. It gave this young man feverish eyes and made him sullen. His grandmother used to tell him that it was a miracle he hadn’t been drowned as a child, and for her he’d laugh, but not for anyone else.

He was tall and slim and had dark hair and young women found him fascinating.

This sort of thing happens often enough, even with boys as mortal as dirt. There’s always one who learned how to brood early and often, and always girls who think they can heal him.

From Life and Death, Rich and Poor:

While we’re going through this life, I think one of the greatest gifts we can give to the world is simply leaving no pain in our wake as we go through our days. The world we live in can be cold. People can be selfish and pursue their dreams with a cruel disregard for what that pursuit may mean to other people. It seems that, more and more, we live in a world in which people care little for the happiness and well-being of others. There is still tremendous good in the world, and there are times when we get to see that good clearly demonstrated in acts of selflessness which remind us that we are all connected and we’re all in this together.

 Men Are 32x More Likely to Be Killed By Lightning than Falsely Accused of Rape. Charles Clymer always has interesting things to say. This article is especially worth reading.

Death on Roller Skates via Sarcastiker. I’ve never seen the personification of death drawn this way before. Interesting stuff.

What Lies Below the Surface via everettepoetry. My father used to say that still waters run deep. He never did say what was swimming underneath it, though. 😉

Always Look on the Bright Side is the perfect book to only read part of.

It’s a collection of quotes about all sorts of topics – death, love, the seasons, graduations, and holidays to name just a few. What I liked most about it was that the quotes aren’t cloying or sentimental. Longterm readers know that I have little patience for that sort of thing, and it’s nice to have a book full of less flowery material.

You officially have my permission to skim, skip, and cherry pick the contents of this collection. Ha!

What have you been reading?

Photo by Jay Galvin.

Just tuning in? Start here. 

Everyone else could be distracted, bribed, fooled, or, if all else failed, possibly even reasoned with. Not Rosamund.

Each sunrise she had long since learned to expect a clean pail of water, a small breakfast, and an affectionate pat on the head as she ate. During harvest season she  was used to carrying baskets of produce back to the house to be processed. A few trading missions a year might carry her away from home for a few days, a week at most, for the household to trade for the few things it couldn’t produce on its own.

But evening was always her time. Someone – usually one of the children – would brush the animals as Daphne softly told all of them one or two of the stories that had been passed down from the time before. The rhythmic sounds of the woman’s voice falling into soft grooves as the heroes and heroines leapt into action was soothing. Sometimes the burro flicked her ears at the climax of the plot, leading Wilma to believe that Rosamund understood far more of what she was hearing than one might expect. When the stories ended the humans always checked the water supplies one final time before Rosamund settled down for the night with Mariposa’s burro, Dusty, by her side.

So it was with a hoof-deep sense of irritation that Rosamund allowed her favourite human to lead her out of the lean-to while Dusty slurped up the last, precious dregs of well water that had been delivered curiously early today.  As always, Lemon pranced from one member of his pack to the next as Isaac very quietly shut the door. Rosamund had never learned to love the noisy, little beast, but she’d long since realized that he was all bark and no bite.

Lemon yipped as Daphne slowly climbed on top of the beast for the short ride to Salt River. Had her knees not been so sore Daphne could have easily walked to the meeting place, but it would be a much faster trip this way.

“Shh!” She frowned at him, tossing something small into the air. He caught it before it landed and swallowed it in one gulp.

“Lemon, you didn’t even taste that,” Daphne faux-scolded in a whisper. “If you’re quiet I’ll let you have another one.”

Ephraim knew how long it took to gather water, and he’d grow suspicious if his brother tarried for too long. They hadn’t figured out a good excuse for Daphne to wander so far away from home, so her older son would be even more confused if he noticed her missing, too. One could only spend so much time telling stories to the animals before someone came looking for you, after all. While most of Ephraim’s attention was focused on the new baby and keeping the rest of the household running smoothly, there would come a time when he started looking for her.

The ride to the river was quick and quiet. Lemon had calmed down a little as he aged, and while he was still a fairly young dog Daphne did notice that he seemed slightly less interested in chasing the wild rabbits than he had been even a year or two ago. A cursory sniff and practice bark – if only to tempt her into throwing another piece of cheese to him – were about as far as his sense of adventure took him on ordinary nights.

Nevada Reed stood at the edge of the river just as the afternoon began haemorrhaging into evening. Sean, her husband, was running late as usual, and she would much rather wait for him at the meeting place than sit at home with hummingbirds buzzing around her gullet.

Daphne nodded her hello, not bothering to slip off of her ride. It would be a short visit.

“How is it looking?” Isaac asked.

“Almost ready.”

“Any word yet?”

“No. It’s as quiet as ever,” she said as she tilted her head over and scratched her right ear.

“You’ve heard from Avery, then?”

“Not exactly.”

Daphne frowned. He was normally the most punctual member of their group, especially with the rumbles of the past few months. No one had seen the soldiers in years, but Milton had been fielding a slowly increasing number of strangers moving through their community.

Peoria, at least, had weathered the last five years fairly well. They’d bounced back quickly from the peculiar illness that killed so many in Mingus, and unlike surrounding communities the soldiers had never found much to be interested in their homes or fields. Their lack of wealth or any consistent type of trade protected them from the worst of the occupation.

Milton hadn’t been so lucky. It wasn’t as dangerous as Mingus, but from all reports it was still recovering from the shock of the past few years. As someone born and bred in the unlucky town, Avery was the perfect person to speak for it when Daphne and the Reeds began covertly travelling around to see who was interested in organizing some sort of early alarm system if – when – the soldiers returned.

For three years their system had worked seamlessly. Any suspicious visitors or activities were reported to other communities right away. At first it was a valley watch in name only. It had only been in the last year or two that trade had slowly resumed and people began travelling during the cold season once again, but even the false alarms gave Daphne a sense that she was doing something to protect her community.

About a week ago Avery spotted two men walking down a dry creek bed. They had no family in the area and nothing to trade. Their language was peppered with words that no one had ever heard before, and despite the danger of travelling in such a state they carried only one small water flask each. By the time Avery found them all of their water supplies were long gone and their lips were crusted over with thirst. It was as if they’d never been in a desert before.

The story made Daphne’s stomach knot up.

Especially when Avery casually mentioned that the younger man carried around a flat stone in his knapsack that he only examined when he thought no one was around.

This is an amazingly accurate U.S. accent quiz.

It accurately pegged me as someone who spent nearly all of her childhood in the midwest. I’d love to know the results of my U.S. readers, especially those of you who may have lived in more than once subculture. Post your results in the comments.

I have a theory about the correlation between character and how you behave in a sit-down restaurant: how you treat your server is a very good indication of who you really are as a person.

The interesting thing about waitstaff is that they can’t say anything when (general) you do something inappropriate, rude, or worse.

Some people respond well to this kind of environment. They intuitively know how they’d like to be treated if the tables were turned, and they treat everyone with kindness.

Others don’t.

Are there times when it’s appropriate to complain or feel angry? Of course.

But when they become a predictable part of dining out with someone you think you know, beware.

This person is showing you their true colours.

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, poems, art sites, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

Silk – Interactive Generative Art. I’ve always admired people who can draw. Sadly, it isn’t a skill that ever developed for me beyond the stick figure level, but this website makes me feel like an artist. All you have to do is point, click, and drag the lines in this page to create beautiful works of online art. It’s really interesting to compare this link to the interactive art site I posted last week.

Life and Donuts. What is the meaning of life? I think this is a pretty good answer to that question.

Do we hug? Because my feeling is that no, we don’t. I’m very cuddly in certain situations and not at all a hugger in other ones. This post has some great advice on how to politely refrain from hugging someone when you really don’t want to.

How I Cured My Imposter Syndrome. This is such good stuff.

From The Heartbreak of HyperEgoRidiculousness:

I’m always a little bit amused when somebody feels like I should care whether they “approve of my lifestyle.”…It’s really pretty simple. If people disagree with who we are or what we do, and based on that they choose personally not to do it, that’s fine.  If they feel the need to be vocally against who we are or what we do, and they do that at us, that is problematic behavior.

From Used To via carolynlawrence:

I used to steal carrots from grandpa’s garden and wash them in the birdbath
I never concerned myself with
the appropriateness of this
the possibility of illness
the disgust of it all
I did so because it was there

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to live with Tourette’s Syndrome? Against Medical Advice is the autobiography of the childhood of a man who was diagnosed with it alongside a few other illnesses.

This book is  a fascinating glimpse into an illness that most people don’t have personal experience dealing with. This is a great introduction to what it’s like to live with Tourette’s Syndrome, and although I wish it had gone into more depth about certain aspects of the author’s illness  I think it will be especially interesting to readers who haven’t studied any mental illnesses in-depth.

What have you been reading?

Photo by Paul Goyette.

Just tuning in? Start here. 

The next few days passed quietly. Ephraim was called to another household only to discover there was nothing he could do to help a woman who’d been badly burned in a kitchen fire. He’d had precious little training since that solitary winter apprenticeship five years ago, but he was the closest thing they had to a real doctor.

The little mite was growing quickly, although Daphne still tried to keep her distance from it for now. Babies were fragile creatures.

It was better not to get attached until it was older and stronger.

If only she wasn’t the only person available to rock it while Mariposa bathed a very agitated Paige for the second time today, the children stacked the last of their firewood by the front door and Ephraim trudged home with as much water as he could carry. The baby was beginning to figure out how to lift its head and smile, and it hated nothing more than to be left alone in its crib while the adults worked. She would have strongly preferred to pass it off to one of the older children, but her knee was too tender to support any weight other than her own.

Daphne had never imagined this would be her life. She’d grown attached to Wilma and Felix, but she’d never intended to raise one child. Now she somehow had accumulated four of them. Even years after starting the process all over again she still wondered if she had done the right thing when she allowed them to claim her.

A creaking front door interrupted her thoughts.

“Oma, we’re finished.” The girl brushed a tangled lock of hair from her shoulders as she stepped inside. Her brother quietly followed her, his face even dirtier than hers.

“Wash your hands and faces and stir the beans. We’ll eat as soon as Ephraim is back.”

The house grew quiet again for a moment as they washed up in the kitchen basin.

“Hello!”

Daphne’s heart skipped a beat.

“Isaac? Is that you?” She scooted to the edge of her seat and leaned forward as far as she could manage with a baby in her lap. She smiled when he popped his head around the door and grinned. It had been nearly a month since her younger son had left on his latest trading mission, and she was surprised by how much she’d missed him. Daphne never would have a guessed that a house as full as theirs could feel so empty with just one member missing.

“You’ve got that back room all cleared out!”

“Yes, finally. Mariposa wants to give it a good scrubbing, but we thought we’d save the major construction for the summer.” The house had once included two extra rooms that were now in disrepair. Mariposa had seen no reason to fix them when she lived alone, but they desperately needed the extra space now. Their ceilings were full of large, gaping holes and the few pieces of antique furniture in them were all but unusable.

“What have you heard?” she asked. It was better to get straight to the point now before the room filled up again.

“Tinsdale is with us. Sloane hasn’t decided yet. Mercy wants to help, but their population is even smaller than ours and they don’t believe in self defence. I don’t know how much good they’d do, although of course I said yes.”

“Weapons?”

Isaac smiled.

“I take it that’s a good thing?”

“I’d rather show you than tell you, but I want to eat first,” he shrugged. The excitement of nearly getting caught by the patrol was still coursing through his veins. His mother would find out soon enough just how lucky he’d been. For now Isaac wanted to prolong her good mood.

It was a quiet, pleasant dinner. Paige, freshly scrubbed and no longer smelling like the feces she’d hidden underneath the bed, listened intently to Isaac’s stories as they ate. The older woman had seemed to recognize Felix in the morning, but after her second nap of the day her mood had quickly soured. She was so pleasant at dinner, though, that for a moment Daphne wondered if this was going to turn out to be a good day after all.

“Lucio, did you feed the chickens?” An old ache brushed against Daphne’s chest. She’d never been particularly close to her neighbour, but the death of so many adults in his family had left a gaping hole in the community.

“No, but I will after we eat,” Isaac said, not missing a beat. It had been many years since anyone in the area had owned chickens, but he’d learned from experience that telling Paige this was nearly as upsetting as reminding her that all of her children and grandchildren were dead. Chickens had been a valuable source of food when she was young, and she hated the thought that the practice had died out.

“See you it that you do. You really should have finished your chores before we all sat down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

“She’s getting worse,” Isaac said in a low tone as he and his mother began washing the dishes.

“I know,” Daphne said. “She still has her good days and her bad days, but it seems like she takes more time to find her way back now.”

“Is the medicine working?”

“No.” That wasn’t a surprise. Herbs could be used to calm a patient down, but Daphne knew of nothing that would restore old memories.

“The exchange is tomorrow at sunset,” he said as the main room slowly emptied out. It took both Mariposa and Ephraim’s efforts to get Paige to go to bed, and even then she slept better if the children laid down next to her.

“What do we tell your brother?”

“Let me handle that. Just be there on time.”

Photo by Mbruciak.

Sometimes readers find this blog through unusual search terms. Here are my responses to the ones that showed up last month. 

How do you solicit a donation from amazon.com? Go here.

Can I keep my child away from his grandparents in Ontario? So far yes. It’s very, very sad when it happens, but this is one of those things that should be worked out without outside influences. It’s not our place to judge how other people live. ,Whether the parents were justified in their decision or not the truth always comes out eventually. Kids are intelligent, and by the time they reach adulthood they’ll know if they were being protected from extremely dangerous relatives or sheltered from loving, caring ones. (Or some shade of grey between the two).

How long does it take to forgive a friend? Between 30 seconds and a lifetime.

How to forgie someone without saying it? I can only assume you’re part of this family and want to know how to add to it.

Option #1: If you have a uterus and would like to use it, ask someone you know and trust to lend you some sperm. With any luck you’ll have a baby by next autumn. And babies don’t talk.

Option #2: Marry someone who doesn’t speak.

Option #3: Adopt one or more children, but never teach them how to pronounce your last name.

😉

When shouldn’t you wear eye liner? When you know you’ll be applying it with a shaky hand.

Is “on the other hand” a metaphor? Technically it’s an idiom. I picked that name for my blog because I want my readers to look at issues from every angle. Few things annoy me more than black and white world thinking. Yes, I realize it’s a little bit of a contradiction, but I have trouble being patient with people who think that their way is the only one.

Should a pastors kid be better than other children?  I understand the urge to set a good example, but that’s a ton of pressure to place on someone who has no say in the matter. It’s better, I think, to focus on your own behaviour. That’s all any of us can actually control.

What is Wes Moores attitude toward wearing uniform? I’d imagine that he’s in favour of it. If I ever meet him in person I will ask him!

Photo by Miguel Virkkunen Carvalho.

Longterm readers may remember how I dabbled with secular mediation a few years ago.

This is generally how those sessions went:

Ok, it’s time to meditate! 

Shoo, thoughts.

<silence>

How long have I been doing this?

<silence>

The silence is nice, but how do I know when to stop? 

<silence>

How long has it been, again? What if I fall asleep?

I’m not Buddhist, but the idea of meditating is very appealing to me. Unfortunately the actual practice of it has been pretty elusive. Once every year or so I’d try it again with equally non-meditative results.

And then late last year I discovered Calm. It’s a free meditation site that can be used in a few different ways. You can set a timer on the site and otherwise not interact with it at all. You could also participate in their prerecorded guided meditation exercises, download the Calm app, or set a timer and simply listen to the instrumental background music they play continuously.

I didn’t expect this, but my favourite part of the Calm site is their guided meditation exercises. They are as short as 2 and as long as 20 minutes in length. As a beginner I find it really helpful to follow someone else’s prompts, although I suspect there may come a time when I no longer need this guidance.

The background noise on it’s own is a little distracting for me because it cycles between nature sounds and instrumental music so rapidly.

It will be interesting to see if I can keep up this new habit!

If you meditate, how did you learn how to make it a longterm part of your daily routine?

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, humorous articles, short stories, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

From Morgan: A Lyric:

We talked a number of times about his decision over the next several weeks, though we both knew he had no real choice. I repeated what so many had observed: given the rigor and discipline of his therapy, given his unusual muscular strength and the excellent condition of his heart, of all his organs other than the lungs, there could be no more ideal candidate for transplant. He simply needed time to contend with the fear, and to accept the enormity of the challenges—and risks—he faced.

 A Report on Alien Life via Skelemika.  How would you describe an alien species unlike anything you’ve ever seen before?

Neon Flames. I found two different online art programs recently. This is the first one I came across, and I’ll share the other one next week. What I like about this site is its use of colour. The site I’ll be sharing next week is much more responsive to small movements in your mouse or keypad, but this one allows you to blend different colours in some very creative and beautiful ways.

I Tried Cosmo’s Weirdest Sex Tips So You Don’t Have To. This is the funniest damn thing I’ve read in 2013. Not a work-safe link.

Dear Lips. The whole blog is entertaining, but this is a great place to start.

Can We Talk about Susan’s Fabulous Adventures after Narnia? For anyone who doesn’t understand the reference, Susan is a main character early on in the Narnia series who is later written out of the narrative with the explanation that she now likes wearing lipstick and nylons. Because of this terrible “betrayal” she’s no longer considered to be a Friend of Narnia. I loved The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe as well as most of its  sequels as a kid, but I always hated how C.S. Lewis abandoned one of his most interesting characters. This post describes what Susan’s life might have actually been like after she grew up.

How I Met Batman. The less you know about this beforehand the better. No, it’s not fiction, I just think my readers will enjoy it more if they start reading with as few preconceptions as possible.

The Rebellion of Miss Lucy Ann Lobdell is the perfect book with which to begin 2014.

Imagine growing up in a society whose social restrictions on you are so tight they feel like a strand of fishing wire wrapped around your throat. You can’t breath, you can’t speak, and if you move an inch they will slice your skin open. Because you were born female the list of things that you are allowed to do is miniscule. You can get married and have a house full of children, you can live at home with your parents or another relative, or you can become a teacher for a short time before settling into what preferably would be the first option.

Miss Lucy Ann chose a different path entirely. This fascinating tale is written from the point of view of a woman who chose to start living as a man in a time when doing so was extremely dangerous.

Not to mention the fact that Miss Lucy Ann had to abandon her own child in order to earn enough money to take care of her.

What have you been reading?