The official blog of Denise M. Baran-Unland, author. Discover her books for all ages at bryonyseries.com.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Friday, June 28, 2013
"Fairy-Land" by Edgar Allan Poe and Story Round Up
Fairy-Land by Edgar Allan Poe
Dim vales—and shadowy floods—
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can’t discover
For the tears that drip all
over:
Huge moons there wax and wane—
Again—again—again—
Every moment of the night—
Forever changing places—
And they put out the
star-light
With the breath from their
pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial,
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the
best)
Comes down—still down—and down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain’s eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be—
O’er the strange woods—o’er
the sea—
Over spirits on the wing—
Over every drowsy thing—
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light—
And then, how, deep! —O, deep,
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they
toss,
Like—almost any thing—
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before,
Videlicet, a tent—
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again
(Never-contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
JJC chef among magazine's top 10 pastry chefs
And two of my children have actually studied under him.
Cindy Figurelli of Lockport lived life to the fullest
She beat back cancer more than once, defeated odds, and inspired other cancer patients.
Wanted: names for baby swans at Woodlawn Memorial Park
Romeo and Juliet recently "gave birth" to the first pair of baby swans the park has seen in fifteen years. What to name them? Offer your suggestions for a chance to win a gift card.
Charity event to benefit Grundy County families
It's a pampering day for woman of all ages, too.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Meet R2D2
This is my portable, free standing, air conditioner unit that is my best friend on summer days since I work in an attic office (complete with a really cool, squeaking, wood door).
Unfortunately, it's been so hot and muggy that R2 has adopted its mistress' habits and only blows hot air. Needless to say, despite the the Fierce Grape Gataorade and chilled glasses of water that are permament fixtures on my desk during the warm months, any daytime phone calls not requiring notetaking are good excuses to seek amnesty down the ladder and into cooler quarters.
That said, although it is ten o'clock at night, and I'm far from being done with the stories I want to submit in the a.m., I've "persuaded" my oldest son to take me out for ice cream.
To quote Henry Matthews, "Ta!"
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
A Brief Post in Passing....
....not in passing away, of course (although that would be somewhat appropriate considering it's a blog dedicated to vampire stories), but rather a quick pass, as I'm stacked up, right now, project-wise.
I'm currently working on a rather challenging piece for Adventist Midest Health, for whom I've freelanced for several years, but challenge is good (I think). I only hope the result approaches expectations.
The official edition of Visage should be ready for purchase in a few days, really as soon as I have a block of time to review and approve the proof. The only hold up is me. :(
Also, a book signing/cooking demonstration/fundraiser for Big Brothers Big Sisters of Will and Grundy Counties is scheduled for July 17. Flyers are done, thanks to Fast Printing of Joliet that donated them, and ready for distribution.
Details, hopefully, tomorrow.
I'm currently working on a rather challenging piece for Adventist Midest Health, for whom I've freelanced for several years, but challenge is good (I think). I only hope the result approaches expectations.
The official edition of Visage should be ready for purchase in a few days, really as soon as I have a block of time to review and approve the proof. The only hold up is me. :(
Also, a book signing/cooking demonstration/fundraiser for Big Brothers Big Sisters of Will and Grundy Counties is scheduled for July 17. Flyers are done, thanks to Fast Printing of Joliet that donated them, and ready for distribution.
Details, hopefully, tomorrow.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Saturday, June 22, 2013
"I Am" by John Clare and Story Round Up
I Am by John Clare (19th century)
I am - yet what I am, none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes —
They rise and vanish in oblivions host,
Like shadows in love frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live — like vapours tost
I am - yet what I am, none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes —
They rise and vanish in oblivions host,
Like shadows in love frenzied stifled throes
And yet I am, and live — like vapours tost
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my lifes esteems;
Even the dearest that I love best
Are strange — nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my lifes esteems;
Even the dearest that I love best
Are strange — nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.
A place where woman never smiled or wept
There to abide with my Creator God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.
Below are the stories that appeared in this week's Herald News.
Former Lockport woman blended art, heart
Mary Stubbe used her creativity to show love to others.
Therapy dog makes fashion statements
Sophie not only brings cheer to hospital patients and nursing home residents, she does it with a wardrobe of costumes and clothing that turn heads.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20789186-423/therapy-dog-makes-fashion-statements-too.html
Weddings through the ages
A church celebrated its 60th anniversary with a special fashion show, one modeling the wedding garments of its members.
JJC music professor a finalist for a Grammy
But being nominated for a Grammy is not what's got Chuck Morgan excited. Read on.
Chance to tune in to ham radio
You probably won't reach Mars as Herman Munster did, but still....
Biblical messages take center stage at Lockport church
This isn't your traditional Gospel delivery.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
In the Spirit of Henry Matthews: Three Great Literature Quotes
"Every man's memory is his private
literature." Aldous Huxley
"Black literature is taught as
sociology, as tolerance, not as a serious, rigorous art form." Toni
Morrison
"Develop an interest in life as
you see it; the people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich,
simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people.
Forget yourself." Henry Miller
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
So I Went to Visit my Father on Father's Day....
...and neither he nor my mother was home. This was unusual because, as a rule, my parents don't recognize Mother's Day and Father's Day to each other (as they are not each others' parents).
A quick back-up. Father's Day, for me, had already been full. I'd woken up pretty early this morning to work on a story, and left for church an hour early since Timothy was cooking a brunch today at the Renaissance Center, and I didn't have access to a vehicle. On those vehicleless Sundays, we ride with our assistant pastor, who needs to be at church early. Once there, I talked to Sarah (and got waylaid by Timothy's godfather who wanted me to chant the Epistle during liturgy), attended a Father's Day brunch in the church hall, came home to write a second story, and then helped Daniel finish a Father's Day brunch at the house for my oldest son, who had both his sons with his that day. So when Christopher went to bring one of the boys home (We get to keep the older one for another week), I suggested leaving a bit early to see my dad, as he is humbly proud of having lived long enough to see his great-grandkids.
Still, I (wrongly) assumed that my seventy-nine, very healthy, and still working parents had decided to take advantage of a very nice Sunday by going out to dinner.
Furthermore, as my father tends to keep his cell phone on only during business hours, I (again, wrongly) knew that a quick call would not disturb his dinner, but would, in fact, go straight to his voice mail, where he could enjoy it Monday morning.
I dialed. It rang, and my father picked it up on the fifth ring. I'm not certain where my mother was today--she's employed at a gift shop, so maybe working?--because my father was mostly certainly NOT at dinner.
He was about an hour away, conducting, of all things, a home inspection. Not many people my age (I'll be 52 on July 15) can boast about having parents as "young" as mine.
So who is my father?
* He's a retired architect, one that built up an impressive business. This included buying a large New Lenox church and converting it into his and other rented office space while maintaining the integral "feel" of the church (stained glass windows, etc.). He held an exclusive contract for all the life safety work on all the Joliet schools. He performed various government projects. He's now a consultant to other architects and a certified home inspector.
* He's the oldest of two sons, born to a prison guard (who walked to work) and his wife. He grew up in Napanoch, New York, a hamlet in Ulster County. The 2000 census reported a population of 1168.
* He's a Notre Dame graduate, one who rented from a family in South Bend while going to school, skipping meals when cash funds were tight. He didn't attend his college graduation because he had graduated early and had no desire to travel back for it.
* He taught me to ride a two-wheeler.
* He read every night to my sister and me, him and the book in the middle, and she and I snuggled into his sides.
* He gave us piggy back rides to bed before dumping us into our respective abodes of slumber.
* He paused while cutting the grass to show me how to catch and feed the enormous green grasshoppers that leaped across our yard.
* He faithfully mowed every week and pulled out the dandelions. He installed a rock garden and a metal shed in the backyard.
* He put up a sandbox, set up sprinklers for my sister and me to run through on hot summer days, assembled and filled wading pools.
* He frequently took us to Highland Park--which backed up to our yard--and pushed us on the swings. Moreover, he drove us there, as the playground portion was nowhere near our house.
* He could link his hands together to form a "swing" with his arms as the chains.
* He fooled us into thinking he could remove his thumb, a trick I've showed to everyone of my six children.
* When we went swimming at the long closed Michigan Beach in Joliet--where a neighbor (deceased) was manager--he taught me the basics of swimming, dog paddling and dead man floating. He also let my sister and me using his back as a "diving board."
* He played old Bing Crosby singalong records and taught us songs: Mairzy Doats, KKKKaty, Long Long Ago, My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, O Where O Where Has My Little Dog Gone, Take Me Out To the Ball Game, Daisy Daisy Give Me Your Answer Do. These are songs I sang to my children while pushing them on swings, at bedtime, or while driving from one destination to another.
* When my sister and I were playing dolls with our cardboard kitchen sink, metal table and chairs, and plastic food to go with our plastic dishes, he'd surprise us by donning his Tiny Tim wig and showing up as a guest. He'd sit at the table, "eat" the plastic food, and play a plastic "badminton" guitar to entertain us.
* He spanked us when we needed it. I remember my last spanking. I was seven. I don't remember the infraction, but I do remember thinking seven was too old for a spanking. My father apparently thought so, too, because I never received another.
* He showed me that peanut butter and bacon go well together on hot, buttered toast.
* When I was eleven, and he rented his first office space in downtown Joliet, 325 E. Cass Street, the former Relyea building (and George Relyea is now deceased), he brought me along to help him paint it: the reception/secretarial area, his private office, the conference room, the drafting room, the hall where all the files were kept, and the room where the blueprint machine was.
* At fifteen, when the asthma I'd suffered from my entire life was finally diagnosed, my father drove me into Joliet from New Lenox (where we now lived) each week for my allergy shots. When I was old enough to drive, he made sure I knew how to get there.
* My first job at sixteen (the previous three years worth of babysitting didn't count) was as a file clerk in his office. On nights he needed extra specs for a job copied, we'd stay downtown after hours, eat in a restaurant, and go back to work.
* While working for him, my father allowed me to tear apart and restructure his blueprint filing system and create a library of reference materials. When I was in college and received an "A" for an organizational communication class, he hired me to conduct a communication audit for his business.
* When my three oldest children were preschoolers, and my father still owned the former church, he would alternate them as his office cleaning partners. They would help empty wastebaskets for a quarter, some old keys, or the fun of copying their preschool pictures on the Xerox machine.
* Today, he helps out with rides, He's driven me to and accompanied me on various, in-person assignments. He occasionally takes my two youngest children to junior college or to their job. For a year (just a couple years ago), he was coming into the distribution center at midnight to help us roll papers.
* He read all three BryonySeries books when they were drafts. Visage was his favorite. He said he picked it up one morning, and never moved until he completed it. He created multiple displays for BryonySeries events, and even wrote a complete and bound "home inspection" for Simons Mansion.
* He reads extensively and can speak intelligently on many different subjects.
So how did those kaleidoscope experiences enrich my life? I learned industry, the joy of reading for reading's sake, innovation, entrepreneurship, creativity, self-discipline, and decent parenting skills.
I can only hope my own children will remember me for half as much. Happy Father's Day, Dad!
A quick back-up. Father's Day, for me, had already been full. I'd woken up pretty early this morning to work on a story, and left for church an hour early since Timothy was cooking a brunch today at the Renaissance Center, and I didn't have access to a vehicle. On those vehicleless Sundays, we ride with our assistant pastor, who needs to be at church early. Once there, I talked to Sarah (and got waylaid by Timothy's godfather who wanted me to chant the Epistle during liturgy), attended a Father's Day brunch in the church hall, came home to write a second story, and then helped Daniel finish a Father's Day brunch at the house for my oldest son, who had both his sons with his that day. So when Christopher went to bring one of the boys home (We get to keep the older one for another week), I suggested leaving a bit early to see my dad, as he is humbly proud of having lived long enough to see his great-grandkids.
Still, I (wrongly) assumed that my seventy-nine, very healthy, and still working parents had decided to take advantage of a very nice Sunday by going out to dinner.
Furthermore, as my father tends to keep his cell phone on only during business hours, I (again, wrongly) knew that a quick call would not disturb his dinner, but would, in fact, go straight to his voice mail, where he could enjoy it Monday morning.
I dialed. It rang, and my father picked it up on the fifth ring. I'm not certain where my mother was today--she's employed at a gift shop, so maybe working?--because my father was mostly certainly NOT at dinner.
He was about an hour away, conducting, of all things, a home inspection. Not many people my age (I'll be 52 on July 15) can boast about having parents as "young" as mine.
So who is my father?
* He's a retired architect, one that built up an impressive business. This included buying a large New Lenox church and converting it into his and other rented office space while maintaining the integral "feel" of the church (stained glass windows, etc.). He held an exclusive contract for all the life safety work on all the Joliet schools. He performed various government projects. He's now a consultant to other architects and a certified home inspector.
* He's the oldest of two sons, born to a prison guard (who walked to work) and his wife. He grew up in Napanoch, New York, a hamlet in Ulster County. The 2000 census reported a population of 1168.
* He's a Notre Dame graduate, one who rented from a family in South Bend while going to school, skipping meals when cash funds were tight. He didn't attend his college graduation because he had graduated early and had no desire to travel back for it.
* He taught me to ride a two-wheeler.
* He read every night to my sister and me, him and the book in the middle, and she and I snuggled into his sides.
* He gave us piggy back rides to bed before dumping us into our respective abodes of slumber.
* He paused while cutting the grass to show me how to catch and feed the enormous green grasshoppers that leaped across our yard.
* He faithfully mowed every week and pulled out the dandelions. He installed a rock garden and a metal shed in the backyard.
* He put up a sandbox, set up sprinklers for my sister and me to run through on hot summer days, assembled and filled wading pools.
* He frequently took us to Highland Park--which backed up to our yard--and pushed us on the swings. Moreover, he drove us there, as the playground portion was nowhere near our house.
* He could link his hands together to form a "swing" with his arms as the chains.
* He fooled us into thinking he could remove his thumb, a trick I've showed to everyone of my six children.
* When we went swimming at the long closed Michigan Beach in Joliet--where a neighbor (deceased) was manager--he taught me the basics of swimming, dog paddling and dead man floating. He also let my sister and me using his back as a "diving board."
* He played old Bing Crosby singalong records and taught us songs: Mairzy Doats, KKKKaty, Long Long Ago, My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, O Where O Where Has My Little Dog Gone, Take Me Out To the Ball Game, Daisy Daisy Give Me Your Answer Do. These are songs I sang to my children while pushing them on swings, at bedtime, or while driving from one destination to another.
* When my sister and I were playing dolls with our cardboard kitchen sink, metal table and chairs, and plastic food to go with our plastic dishes, he'd surprise us by donning his Tiny Tim wig and showing up as a guest. He'd sit at the table, "eat" the plastic food, and play a plastic "badminton" guitar to entertain us.
* He spanked us when we needed it. I remember my last spanking. I was seven. I don't remember the infraction, but I do remember thinking seven was too old for a spanking. My father apparently thought so, too, because I never received another.
* He showed me that peanut butter and bacon go well together on hot, buttered toast.
* When I was eleven, and he rented his first office space in downtown Joliet, 325 E. Cass Street, the former Relyea building (and George Relyea is now deceased), he brought me along to help him paint it: the reception/secretarial area, his private office, the conference room, the drafting room, the hall where all the files were kept, and the room where the blueprint machine was.
* At fifteen, when the asthma I'd suffered from my entire life was finally diagnosed, my father drove me into Joliet from New Lenox (where we now lived) each week for my allergy shots. When I was old enough to drive, he made sure I knew how to get there.
* My first job at sixteen (the previous three years worth of babysitting didn't count) was as a file clerk in his office. On nights he needed extra specs for a job copied, we'd stay downtown after hours, eat in a restaurant, and go back to work.
* While working for him, my father allowed me to tear apart and restructure his blueprint filing system and create a library of reference materials. When I was in college and received an "A" for an organizational communication class, he hired me to conduct a communication audit for his business.
* When my three oldest children were preschoolers, and my father still owned the former church, he would alternate them as his office cleaning partners. They would help empty wastebaskets for a quarter, some old keys, or the fun of copying their preschool pictures on the Xerox machine.
* Today, he helps out with rides, He's driven me to and accompanied me on various, in-person assignments. He occasionally takes my two youngest children to junior college or to their job. For a year (just a couple years ago), he was coming into the distribution center at midnight to help us roll papers.
* He read all three BryonySeries books when they were drafts. Visage was his favorite. He said he picked it up one morning, and never moved until he completed it. He created multiple displays for BryonySeries events, and even wrote a complete and bound "home inspection" for Simons Mansion.
* He reads extensively and can speak intelligently on many different subjects.
So how did those kaleidoscope experiences enrich my life? I learned industry, the joy of reading for reading's sake, innovation, entrepreneurship, creativity, self-discipline, and decent parenting skills.
I can only hope my own children will remember me for half as much. Happy Father's Day, Dad!
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Lord Bryon's Vampire Story, "Augustus Darvell" and Story Round Up
In 1817, Lord Bryon wrote Augustus Darvell, a "fragment" of a vampire story. It's quite short and and worth the read.
www.simplysupernatural-vampire.com/vampire-Byron-Augustus-Darvell.html
Not too many stories in this week's Herald News. Septic woes on Monday are still not completely resolved. I had "resolved" to talk to Fr. Boris about them on Sunday.
However, he called me today. He had decided on the way home from rodding the septic that it would probably need more work and offered, nay, promised, to come back next week to finish the job. Fr Boris is awesome!
Anyway, I'm behind all over the place with work-related writing. Gonna be a busy week and weekend!
Bolingbrook man leadsd photo safaris at Starved Rock
When Mike Bessler was a boy, he and his family spent many happy hours at Starved Rock state park. Now Bessler leads photo safaris there.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20596414-418/bolingbrook-man-leads-photo-safaris-at-starved-rock.html
Third annual Woofapalooza at Siegels Farms
This venue puts new meaning into "dog days."
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20597094-418/3rd-annual-woofapalooza-sunday-at-siegels-farms.html
Joliet man was master of many interests
The accomplishment was less important than the journey, and Robert Fier thoroughly enjoyed the journey.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20603423-418/joliet-man-was-master-of-many-interests.html
YMCA counselors learn to be happy campers
Camp counselors get to experience what their young charges experience, with the goal of enriching the program they offer to children.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20599462-418/ymca-counselors-learn-to-be-happy-campers.html
Watch out for leptospirosis
Suburban development often brings household dogs in contact with wildlife infected with this formerly uncommon bacterial infection. The result, for dogs can be deadly.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20655490-423/watch-out-for-leptospirosis.html
www.simplysupernatural-vampire.com/vampire-Byron-Augustus-Darvell.html
Not too many stories in this week's Herald News. Septic woes on Monday are still not completely resolved. I had "resolved" to talk to Fr. Boris about them on Sunday.
However, he called me today. He had decided on the way home from rodding the septic that it would probably need more work and offered, nay, promised, to come back next week to finish the job. Fr Boris is awesome!
Anyway, I'm behind all over the place with work-related writing. Gonna be a busy week and weekend!
Bolingbrook man leadsd photo safaris at Starved Rock
When Mike Bessler was a boy, he and his family spent many happy hours at Starved Rock state park. Now Bessler leads photo safaris there.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20596414-418/bolingbrook-man-leads-photo-safaris-at-starved-rock.html
Third annual Woofapalooza at Siegels Farms
This venue puts new meaning into "dog days."
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20597094-418/3rd-annual-woofapalooza-sunday-at-siegels-farms.html
Joliet man was master of many interests
The accomplishment was less important than the journey, and Robert Fier thoroughly enjoyed the journey.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20603423-418/joliet-man-was-master-of-many-interests.html
YMCA counselors learn to be happy campers
Camp counselors get to experience what their young charges experience, with the goal of enriching the program they offer to children.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20599462-418/ymca-counselors-learn-to-be-happy-campers.html
Watch out for leptospirosis
Suburban development often brings household dogs in contact with wildlife infected with this formerly uncommon bacterial infection. The result, for dogs can be deadly.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20655490-423/watch-out-for-leptospirosis.html
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
"Visage" Update
The official edition is nearly ready for release. Copy editing is complete; interior images placed. All that's needed is just some final touches on the cover and preview of the proof copy.
Still waaaaay behind from the disruptions earlier this week; looks like it will be a working weekend, and, yet, very, very, very thankful for the work. A high note: whittled my email tonight from 112 to 27. Hurray!
Remember, the holiday edition of Visage will only be available until the end of the month. Order at www.bryonyseries.com/Dalton_s_Dry_Goods.html.
Brain is fried. 'Night vampire fans.
Still waaaaay behind from the disruptions earlier this week; looks like it will be a working weekend, and, yet, very, very, very thankful for the work. A high note: whittled my email tonight from 112 to 27. Hurray!
Remember, the holiday edition of Visage will only be available until the end of the month. Order at www.bryonyseries.com/Dalton_s_Dry_Goods.html.
Brain is fried. 'Night vampire fans.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Better and Almost on Track
I completed the most immediate of assignments today, whittled email down to fifty-two, and cleaned up my office. The End.
P.S.: So glad I didn't attempt the office clutter yesterday evening. It would have been another short night of sleep, but, hey! At least I can find the computer now.
P.S.: So glad I didn't attempt the office clutter yesterday evening. It would have been another short night of sleep, but, hey! At least I can find the computer now.
Monday, June 10, 2013
A Bleary, Topsy Turvey, Full of Emergency, "I'm Now Behind," Most Productive Day
Following that? Here's the explanation:
Bleary: After a weekend of shorted sleep so I could write fiction, and yet feeling all draggy because of a cold, I could not sleep last night. Total log: about three hours, all broken up. Not fun.
Topsy Turvey: For multiple reasons, we've had some wild schedule shifts over the past few weeks, compounding our crisis state. Right now, we're feeling a little scatterbrained, and it shows, everywhere. Everything needs lots of attention. Where, oh where, to start? Ever feel that way?
Full of Emergency: Bad sewer issues and no money to fix them. Luckily, our eighty-two year old pastor came to the rescue. (It sounds worse than it is. He loves rodding sewers and has his own equipment). Unfortunately, he showed up later than anticipated, very close to the four o'clock interview I forgot I had, until six o'clock. Now all I'm getting is my source's voice mail. Boy, do I feel stupid!
Now I'm Behind: I had three assignments to finish this weekend, one due today. I didn't get them done, so I moved them to today. My brain wasn't cooperating very well, so I again switched gears. The rest of the week should be very interesting, but I intend to hit it very, very, hard.
Most Productive Day: I finished editing Staked! instead. I figured any damage I'd do with my deprived neural connectors wouldn't at least affect my job and could be addressed when my editor's notes returned.
So for the rest of this evening, which is rapidly dissipating, I'm going to clean my office, put away the clean laundry Rebekah brought up half a century ago, and maybe catch up on email. I doubt I'll make a huge dent; the total stands at ninety-six (right now). Hopefully, tonight's sleep will be what I consider sweet, as well as perfectly restful.
Wish me luck!!!!!!!!!!
Bleary: After a weekend of shorted sleep so I could write fiction, and yet feeling all draggy because of a cold, I could not sleep last night. Total log: about three hours, all broken up. Not fun.
Topsy Turvey: For multiple reasons, we've had some wild schedule shifts over the past few weeks, compounding our crisis state. Right now, we're feeling a little scatterbrained, and it shows, everywhere. Everything needs lots of attention. Where, oh where, to start? Ever feel that way?
Full of Emergency: Bad sewer issues and no money to fix them. Luckily, our eighty-two year old pastor came to the rescue. (It sounds worse than it is. He loves rodding sewers and has his own equipment). Unfortunately, he showed up later than anticipated, very close to the four o'clock interview I forgot I had, until six o'clock. Now all I'm getting is my source's voice mail. Boy, do I feel stupid!
Now I'm Behind: I had three assignments to finish this weekend, one due today. I didn't get them done, so I moved them to today. My brain wasn't cooperating very well, so I again switched gears. The rest of the week should be very interesting, but I intend to hit it very, very, hard.
Most Productive Day: I finished editing Staked! instead. I figured any damage I'd do with my deprived neural connectors wouldn't at least affect my job and could be addressed when my editor's notes returned.
So for the rest of this evening, which is rapidly dissipating, I'm going to clean my office, put away the clean laundry Rebekah brought up half a century ago, and maybe catch up on email. I doubt I'll make a huge dent; the total stands at ninety-six (right now). Hopefully, tonight's sleep will be what I consider sweet, as well as perfectly restful.
Wish me luck!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday, June 9, 2013
So if You Haven't "Liked" the "BryonySeries" Facebook Page (And if You Have....)
If you haven't "liked" the BryonySeries Facebook page, now is a good time.
We will be retiring the holiday edition of Visage this month and releasing the official version. Only Facebook fans will see previews of cover and interior art, created by the very talented Matt Coundiff, as well as "sneak peeks" into other BryonySeries projects and an assortment of related and fun postings.
If you're already a fan, remember to interact on the page if you'd like updates to appear in your News Feed.
Limited copies of the holiday editon of Visage will be available through June 30. All orders from the website will be autographed by me; personalization is available, too. Specify if you'd like the illustrator's autograph, too; we can arrange it.
This edition includes extras that will not appear in the official version: a cover designed by the artist--Christopher Gleason--who is illustrationg Staked!, an interior "V" designed by my teen son (Daniel Baran) that includes two major elements of the BryonySeries, chapter heading quotations, an introduction by me (the only introduction I will ever write for my books), author trivia, 1970's trivia, a quirky interview with me, a Victorian photo of me in a Victorian museum that has since closed (the setting for both the book trailer and music video), and a photo of me in a homemade kangaroo suit (definitely worth the price of the book).
Fan the BryonySeries Facebook page at www.facebook.com/BryonySeries.
But the holiday edition at (and other BryonySeries product) at http://www.bryonyseries.com/Dalton_s_Dry_Goods.html
We will be retiring the holiday edition of Visage this month and releasing the official version. Only Facebook fans will see previews of cover and interior art, created by the very talented Matt Coundiff, as well as "sneak peeks" into other BryonySeries projects and an assortment of related and fun postings.
If you're already a fan, remember to interact on the page if you'd like updates to appear in your News Feed.
Limited copies of the holiday editon of Visage will be available through June 30. All orders from the website will be autographed by me; personalization is available, too. Specify if you'd like the illustrator's autograph, too; we can arrange it.
This edition includes extras that will not appear in the official version: a cover designed by the artist--Christopher Gleason--who is illustrationg Staked!, an interior "V" designed by my teen son (Daniel Baran) that includes two major elements of the BryonySeries, chapter heading quotations, an introduction by me (the only introduction I will ever write for my books), author trivia, 1970's trivia, a quirky interview with me, a Victorian photo of me in a Victorian museum that has since closed (the setting for both the book trailer and music video), and a photo of me in a homemade kangaroo suit (definitely worth the price of the book).
Fan the BryonySeries Facebook page at www.facebook.com/BryonySeries.
But the holiday edition at (and other BryonySeries product) at http://www.bryonyseries.com/Dalton_s_Dry_Goods.html
Saturday, June 8, 2013
A Peek into the Secret Correspondence Between the Steward of Tara and the BryonySeries' Author
Dear MOMI:
When the next book comes out, I'll load a cooler with ice cream, disposable bowls, and plastic spoons. We'll serve the free ice cream right where we're signing. I'll spring the cost of the ice cream.
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara
O Steward:
Third book won't come out until late November. Sure you don't want to do it this summer?
Respectfully,
MOMI
Dear MOMI:
Do you think we can still sell the first two books at the DC? (Note: this is vampire code for "distribution center.") Is anyone there that reads still without a copy? I agree that summer would be better for ice cream. BTW, could you send me the Byrony links? I'm on a new computer.
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara
O Steward:
Not sure who still wants any books, but an ice cream social is still a good promotion for Staked! which is coming out at the end of the year. That book has your biggest role. Besides, there's new people coming in the DC all the time.
Also, the official Visage, with the "official" art should be out in a couple of weeks. You'll receive a complimentary copy. FYI, Saturdays has the lowest carrier turnout. Any possible way you could get a sub and do a Sunday?
Respectfully, MOMI
Dear MOMI:
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are the only days I can't do it.
As far as getting a sub...if you mean submarine, that would be easier then finding someone to do my route. If you mean "submissive," you've read 50 Shades, and believe me, to all of them, doing a route is a "hard limit." If you mean submarine sandwich, I could, but it wouldn't help me take off a on Sunday.
Ice cream might draw a few carriers in early though if the word went out. In my own DC, which is not as personable as Joliet, it took two years to go from not finishing one bucket to finishing three (every one speaking only Spanish or Arabic assumed I was selling it).
O Steward:
Okay, then, pick a Saturday, and let's do it!
When the next book comes out, I'll load a cooler with ice cream, disposable bowls, and plastic spoons. We'll serve the free ice cream right where we're signing. I'll spring the cost of the ice cream.
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara
O Steward:
Third book won't come out until late November. Sure you don't want to do it this summer?
Respectfully,
MOMI
Dear MOMI:
Do you think we can still sell the first two books at the DC? (Note: this is vampire code for "distribution center.") Is anyone there that reads still without a copy? I agree that summer would be better for ice cream. BTW, could you send me the Byrony links? I'm on a new computer.
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara
O Steward:
Not sure who still wants any books, but an ice cream social is still a good promotion for Staked! which is coming out at the end of the year. That book has your biggest role. Besides, there's new people coming in the DC all the time.
Also, the official Visage, with the "official" art should be out in a couple of weeks. You'll receive a complimentary copy. FYI, Saturdays has the lowest carrier turnout. Any possible way you could get a sub and do a Sunday?
Respectfully, MOMI
Dear MOMI:
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are the only days I can't do it.
As far as getting a sub...if you mean submarine, that would be easier then finding someone to do my route. If you mean "submissive," you've read 50 Shades, and believe me, to all of them, doing a route is a "hard limit." If you mean submarine sandwich, I could, but it wouldn't help me take off a on Sunday.
Ice cream might draw a few carriers in early though if the word went out. In my own DC, which is not as personable as Joliet, it took two years to go from not finishing one bucket to finishing three (every one speaking only Spanish or Arabic assumed I was selling it).
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins, Steward of TaraO Steward:
Okay, then, pick a Saturday, and let's do it!
Respectfully, MOMI
Dear MOMI:
Now wait a second. This might be a chance for you to flex
your newly found fame as an acclaimed novelist. Perhaps you can market the
John-John Peter experience. One of the most touching parts of Visage is the
connection of father and son on the "damn route." Maybe we can market
this. Bring your toddler and go out on a REAL Ed Calkins route! (Make sure that
toddler is barefoot).
BTW I laughed much longer then my wife at the throwing of
the shoe because I had a better picture. Did that every happen to you with one
of your little angels? Let's do the ice cream social on the Saturday near the
4th of July.
Also, can you give me Edgar or Frank's phone so I can ask
permission? My new phone never got my Joliet connections on speed dial.
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara
Editor's note: I sent the steward the two agents' telephone
numbers, but I have received no further correspondence from the steward. I'm
assuming he's veyr busy conducting ruthless business. Further details on the
ice cream social--and if you've read Visage, you know how appropriate that
social is. If you haven't, come to the social, buy a copy personally
autographed by Ed Calkins, and find out--when and if they emerge.
Friday, June 7, 2013
"Love Poem" by Tom Hernandez and Story Round-Up
Love Poem by Tom Hernandez
Oh Nikki, slick Nikki, tricking me into doing something I haven't done
For a long, long time. To take an idea and run
Even though it has no real form. Just let it sing and ring, flinging
The words onto the page to see what they become--about anything and nothing
Because sometimes anything is something and nothing becomes everything.
Yours was a love poem and a birthday gift. Mine? Well, we'll see.
Where the wave of the words on the beach of an idea takes me.
Right now, it just feels right to sit here, and pour it out, like wine and water,
mixing and hoping that they will become holy blood through my fingers;
wheat and honey turning to mystical flesh in my hands.
Do I still have the magic touch? If Nikki does, then why not?
I can do what she has done. I can walk where she has run. It may not be art--not yet--
But at least I have my jogging shoes on again.
They fit. A little tight, but they're alright,
And so am I.
Yours was a love poem and a birthday gift.
Here on a rainy Monday, I guess mine is, too.
And Darling Nikki, your love is my love is you.
The gift is not for my birthday,
but it feels like I am reborn, in a small way, so maybe it is, kind of.
Reborn through the "Word"--big W, but not in the Jesus sense.
Rather, in the Spirit of the Creator creating creation.
Because that's what it's all about, when you come right down to it and cut right through all the nonsense and expense. Not the rules
That the fools in the robes and silly hats put around it.
And yes, we humans can do it--you and I, are living proof of that.
We create life, bring life, give life, sing life through our word,
precious golden nuggets of pain and joy, birds soaring and diving,
dipping and climbing high, higher, highest
until neither the eye nor the sky can hold them anymore.
Like birds.
Our words.
Love poems.
That Dear Nikki, is your gift. And Mine
Here are the stories that appeared in this week's Herald News
Joliet author puts faces to cancer journey
Dealing with her mother's brain cancer was not a challenge Allison Rios was prepared to handle. After her mother's death, Rios chronicled her experiences, hoping to make the road easier for others. She then invited others to join her.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20456346-423/joliet-author-puts-faces-to-cancer-journey.html
Love for children was teacher's legacy
Honor Sue Trotter never opened a preschool or traveled to Hawaii, but she enriched the lives of hundreds of children fortunate to have her as a teacher.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20461716-423/love-for-children-is-teachers-legacy.html
TV host, ex-Romeoville resident, authors home design book
And Kelly Edwards presents her ideas in recipe format, to take the challenge out of home decorating.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20456344-423/tv-host-ex-romeoville-resident-authors-home-design-book.html
Crest Hill photographer gives a hoot about birds
John Sullivan enjoys shooting wildlife, but when he rescued a baby owl from a devastating tumble and gave him a new home, Herman rewarded Sulivan with friendship and plenty of unique photo opportunities.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20459395-423/crest-hill-photographer-gives-a-hoot-about-birds.html
Chef's recipe for caring evident at Plainfield facility
Chef Mary Altiery has cooked for celebrities. She now prepares meals for nursing home residents and treats them like celebrities.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20556163-418/chefs-recipe-for-caring-evident-at-plainfield-facility.html
Joliet West kids' limestone project is rock-solid
Three local high school students won a design award at the Illinois History Expo with a display that echoes one of Joliet's greatest contributions.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20577465-418/joliet-west-students-limestone-project-is-rock-solid.html
Oh Nikki, slick Nikki, tricking me into doing something I haven't done
For a long, long time. To take an idea and run
Even though it has no real form. Just let it sing and ring, flinging
The words onto the page to see what they become--about anything and nothing
Because sometimes anything is something and nothing becomes everything.
Yours was a love poem and a birthday gift. Mine? Well, we'll see.
Where the wave of the words on the beach of an idea takes me.
Right now, it just feels right to sit here, and pour it out, like wine and water,
mixing and hoping that they will become holy blood through my fingers;
wheat and honey turning to mystical flesh in my hands.
Do I still have the magic touch? If Nikki does, then why not?
I can do what she has done. I can walk where she has run. It may not be art--not yet--
But at least I have my jogging shoes on again.
They fit. A little tight, but they're alright,
And so am I.
Yours was a love poem and a birthday gift.
Here on a rainy Monday, I guess mine is, too.
And Darling Nikki, your love is my love is you.
The gift is not for my birthday,
but it feels like I am reborn, in a small way, so maybe it is, kind of.
Reborn through the "Word"--big W, but not in the Jesus sense.
Rather, in the Spirit of the Creator creating creation.
Because that's what it's all about, when you come right down to it and cut right through all the nonsense and expense. Not the rules
That the fools in the robes and silly hats put around it.
And yes, we humans can do it--you and I, are living proof of that.
We create life, bring life, give life, sing life through our word,
precious golden nuggets of pain and joy, birds soaring and diving,
dipping and climbing high, higher, highest
until neither the eye nor the sky can hold them anymore.
Like birds.
Our words.
Love poems.
That Dear Nikki, is your gift. And Mine
Here are the stories that appeared in this week's Herald News
Joliet author puts faces to cancer journey
Dealing with her mother's brain cancer was not a challenge Allison Rios was prepared to handle. After her mother's death, Rios chronicled her experiences, hoping to make the road easier for others. She then invited others to join her.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20456346-423/joliet-author-puts-faces-to-cancer-journey.html
Love for children was teacher's legacy
Honor Sue Trotter never opened a preschool or traveled to Hawaii, but she enriched the lives of hundreds of children fortunate to have her as a teacher.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20461716-423/love-for-children-is-teachers-legacy.html
TV host, ex-Romeoville resident, authors home design book
And Kelly Edwards presents her ideas in recipe format, to take the challenge out of home decorating.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20456344-423/tv-host-ex-romeoville-resident-authors-home-design-book.html
Crest Hill photographer gives a hoot about birds
John Sullivan enjoys shooting wildlife, but when he rescued a baby owl from a devastating tumble and gave him a new home, Herman rewarded Sulivan with friendship and plenty of unique photo opportunities.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/lifestyles/20459395-423/crest-hill-photographer-gives-a-hoot-about-birds.html
Chef's recipe for caring evident at Plainfield facility
Chef Mary Altiery has cooked for celebrities. She now prepares meals for nursing home residents and treats them like celebrities.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20556163-418/chefs-recipe-for-caring-evident-at-plainfield-facility.html
Joliet West kids' limestone project is rock-solid
Three local high school students won a design award at the Illinois History Expo with a display that echoes one of Joliet's greatest contributions.
http://heraldnews.suntimes.com/news/20577465-418/joliet-west-students-limestone-project-is-rock-solid.html
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Bill Oddie and Goodie Flavor
Several years ago, before I began tackling fiction more (or less) seriously, I wrote a few funsie pieces for GROK: The Goodies Rule OK fan club newsletter.
The Goodies were the 1970s trio of Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graeme Garden, and Bill Oddie that combined comedic sketches, cartoon-like stunts, and original songs into a half program.
One Australian man actually died laughing during the "Ecky Thump," Kung Fu type spoof.
http://www.snopes.com/horrors/freakish/laughing.asp
At the time, I had a second column with the Herald News--Local Flavor--stories that revolved around area people and their culinary habits. So in a fit of productive muse, I wrote this piece below:
http://www.goodiesruleok.com/articles.php?id=118
Bon appetit!
The Goodies were the 1970s trio of Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graeme Garden, and Bill Oddie that combined comedic sketches, cartoon-like stunts, and original songs into a half program.
One Australian man actually died laughing during the "Ecky Thump," Kung Fu type spoof.
http://www.snopes.com/horrors/freakish/laughing.asp
At the time, I had a second column with the Herald News--Local Flavor--stories that revolved around area people and their culinary habits. So in a fit of productive muse, I wrote this piece below:
http://www.goodiesruleok.com/articles.php?id=118
Bon appetit!
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Monday, June 3, 2013
The Creepy Thing That Happened to Us Saturday Night
About eleven o'clock, as I was editing Staked!, my neighbor texted me, requesting I come fetch my black and white cat from her yard.
When Charity was alive, this exchange happened weekly, at least. I paused, started to text her that she was mistaken, that the cat in her yard could not possibly be our cat, and then decided to ensure Alex, also a tuxedo, but much larger, was still in the house.
He was, and so Frances (gray and brown striped), Midnight (all black), Hope (tortoise), and Faith (calico). That's when it got weird.
My neighbor, who'd seen Charity zillions of times, insisted the cat in her yard was he.
So Daniel went over to check out the cat, but it was gone. Daniel then told her the cat was not Charity. She said it was, down to his collar. This freaked out Daniel, as he had buckled Charity's collar onto him before we laid him in his box.
We never did see that cat. The rational, logical part of us says this was someone else's cat, although we have not seen another tuxedo anywhere in our neighborhood.
The intuitive part of us feels cheered that perhaps, in some spiritual plane, Charity is happily frisking about, no longer needing to "sneak" past the electric fence to do so.
What do you think?
When Charity was alive, this exchange happened weekly, at least. I paused, started to text her that she was mistaken, that the cat in her yard could not possibly be our cat, and then decided to ensure Alex, also a tuxedo, but much larger, was still in the house.
He was, and so Frances (gray and brown striped), Midnight (all black), Hope (tortoise), and Faith (calico). That's when it got weird.
My neighbor, who'd seen Charity zillions of times, insisted the cat in her yard was he.
So Daniel went over to check out the cat, but it was gone. Daniel then told her the cat was not Charity. She said it was, down to his collar. This freaked out Daniel, as he had buckled Charity's collar onto him before we laid him in his box.
We never did see that cat. The rational, logical part of us says this was someone else's cat, although we have not seen another tuxedo anywhere in our neighborhood.
The intuitive part of us feels cheered that perhaps, in some spiritual plane, Charity is happily frisking about, no longer needing to "sneak" past the electric fence to do so.
What do you think?
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Saturday, June 1, 2013
"How to 'Sacrifice' a Virgin," by Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara
Dear MOMI:
I didn't tell you about this before reading Visage because I
thought you too innocent to handle the darkness that will consume mankind in
the post Facebook/Twitter wars.
But after checking the body count in you last novel, I think
you're ready to face that fact the humanity will digress a bit after three
hundred years of social media warfare. People living on islands will be most affected,
reverting back to talking on landline phones, using cash, sacrificing other
people to mythical beings, reading newspapers, and, yes, chatting again on AOL
or Prodigy.
Since, undoubtedly they will wish to sacrifice a maiden or
two to Ed Calkins, we should be responsible enough to inform future generations
on how to do it properly.
Materials: For a proper sacrifice, you'll need four very
sharp knives, four four-by-fours, eight two-by-fours, four lengths of rope six
feet or more, two cell phones, one very thick club, several bales of hay (straw
will do), five belts, as many three leave covers as you can find, one piano
along with someone who can play it, three barrels of beer, one sea worthy boat
or yacht, twenty four orders of chicken wings, and several large pizzas.
Altar: Somewhere on the sacrificial island there must be a
cliff no higher than three meters above a sandy beach. If there is no such
spot, the sacrificers must construct it. The bales of hay should be placed
inside the wooden fame (made with four two by fours), which is a rectangle six
feet wider than the victim's outstretched arms and one foot higher. Each of the
four very sharp knives should be placed blade up, at arms and ankles lengths.
The four by fours must be driven in at the corners of the rectangle extending
to meet the cliff. At the cliffs summit, a identical rectangle must be
constructed. Finally, just off the water's edge should be your sea worthy
vessel, with one cell phone, two barrels of beer, twelve orders of chicken
wings, and half the pizzas.
Victim: "Virgin" is a term best not taken too literally;
after all there are many kinds of "virgins," with only that they've
never done something before, so we mustn't get too hung up on that. Still, it
would be nice if everyone at least pretended that the victim is of virtue, but,
failing that, at least get her to cross her eyes more than twice. Beautiful
maidens are of prime consideration; however ex girl friends, ex wives, or even
mother-in-laws should be considered. What is paramount is that she be healthy
(no sacrificing granny on her deathbed), and sane. The latter comes with a test
of compliance built right in the sacrifice.
Time: There are two days for sacrificing a maiden. One is
Calkins Day (13th of Feb) in the wee hours before the high tide comes in. The
other is college spring break, where thing like this just happen. Anyway, in
the first case, plan your sacrifice immediately after the parade, which should
end before high tide.
Method: Dress the sacrificial maiden in white silk, (cotton
with do, so will wool, actually anything will do, providing its white, unless
she's wearing something else) and sprinkle the three leave covers in her hair.
Fasten her to a pole that will stand erect on the last float
of the Calkins Day Parade using the five belts that represent the five great
novels that changed humanity (all of the written by MOMI). The white dress is
to remind everyone of the many wives of EC and the covers of Tara. One belt
should tie her ankles, one above the knee, one at her waist, one about the bust
line, and the last should tie her wrists together behind her back. This doesn't
remind us of anything, it just seems the way to do it. Note: if one is
sacrificing ones mother in law, a gag is permitted.
The float with the victim on it should finish the parade
before heading to the altar to begin the sacrifice. Make sure you've tossed all
candies to the crowd watching the parade. Believe me, chicken wings with beer
and candy do not mix. Once at the altar, one should alert the deities by
calling them on the one of the cell phones, then smash the phone with the heavy
club when the call gets dropped.
Then tie the lengths of rope to each wrist and ankle before
unfastening the five belts. Several people should help at this point in that
there may be some struggling. The maiden must be spread eagle to the upright
frame with arms stretched with three feet of rope extending from each wrist and
ankle. At this point, someone should hold the leprechaun menacingly close to the victims face. Someone else should play the piano and a few
others should dance around menacingly. Everyone else, excluding the victim,
should get started on the pizza, chicken wings, and beer. This next part can
make or break the whole sacrifice. The ceremony must contain the consumption of
the barrel of beer, yet bring a feeling of impending doom to the victim. Its
best that you jump around, chant in some nonexistent ancient language, and make
menacing jesters while still drinking beer.
When the drama hits a fevered pitch, which is generally when
the beer runs out, the participates, less the sacrifice, should grab part of
the fame to carry it horizontally to the cliff's edge with the victim face down
and fit the frame so that its corners enclose the four-by-fours posts. As a
group you should count backwards from the currently held view of how many wives
Ed Calkins had.
Sometime before finishing, you're grip will fail, thus
releasing the screaming victim to her doom. Right after that, you'll hear the
snapping of ropes, the plop of a body's fall broken by the bales of hay, and
the ungracious sound of "What a #@#$ bunch of #$#@!" mingle with the
sound of footsteps sprinting across the sand. Pay no mind to that.
Be assured that this valid sacrifice because you're never
going to see the vessel, chicken wings, beer, or sacrificial maiden ever again.
Assume that your victim drowned when high tide came and swept everything out to
sea, but in case your hangover doesn't find the evidence convincing enough,
someone can always instruct the victim before throwing them off the cliff to
"remain underwater and breath normally."
BTW, if your victim does ever return to you know that you
failed to select a sane maiden. Once you have achieved all these things, add
another wife to the total of known Ed Calkins' wives and log her @
StewardofTara.ecp.* ( This site is not operational yet, but should be up six
hundred years from now). Before that,
you can always upload vids of your sacrifice on YouTube. (Until the Google people
make it a capital offense).
Some further notes: If you are the chosen maiden, understand
that sacrifices are a solemn thing. Do not giggle at any point. If a
sacrificial maiden does giggle, someone must pretend to tickle her.
Also, once in the boat, you may consider not drinking both
barrels by yourself. Consider this, when you do find another inhabited island
and disembark with even one barrel of beer, those inhabitance are likely to
worship you as a goddess. (As you Denise already well know what that's like.)
I hope this helps.
Ruthlessly yours,
Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara
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