Crown Him With Many Crowns - piano

The 10 scariest monsters and demons from Celtic myth | Irish Genealogy and Roots | IrishCentral

The 10 scariest monsters and demons from Celtic myth Irish Genealogy and Roots IrishCentral

The Golden Windows by Laura E. Richards

The Golden Windows by Laura E. Richards (1850-1943) is the story of a poor farmer boy who, at the end of a hard working day, loved to sit on top of a certain hill and gaze at a distant house, intrigued by its golden windows.

One day, the boy sets out for the house only to find that the abode he admired for so long was only an ordinary home. The girl living said he had picked the wrong house. She then proceeds to show him the REAL house with golden windows.

Read it online.

The Supersizers Go Seventies Part 6

James' Performance

The Victorian Flavor Bible

The other day my mother surprised Timothy, my twenty year old culinary arts student, with a copy of The Flavor Bible: The Essential Guide to Culinary Creativity, Based on the Wisdom of America's Most Imaginative Chefs by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg.

As Timothy flipped through the book and showed me its complemetary food combinations, I wondered how the Victorians paired certain foods. So I checked my 1860 copy of Miss Beecher’s domestic receiptbook: designed as a supplement to her Treatise on domestic economy and found the following suggestions:

*  mutton with turnips

*  geese and ducks with onions

*  boiled poultry with boiled ham or tongue

*  jelly with mutton, venison, roasted meats, and gravy used in hashes

*  fresh pork with cranberry or tart apple sauce

*  drawn butter and eggs with boiled fowls and boiled fish

*  pickles with fish

*  soy sauce and drawn butter with fish

And for garnishes:

*  sweetbreads, fried brown in lard

*  eggs (boiled or fried) on broiled ham or veal

*  lay greens and asparagus, well drained, on buttered toast. Surround with hard-boiled egg slices

*  hash, as well as pig's and calves's head and feet on toast. Garnish with lemon slices.

*  fasten parsley to the shank of a ham to conceal the bone

Meet "Melissa" of the Bryony Book Trailer, Part 2

Wrapping up the interview with Rebekah Baran, who portrays Melissa Marchellis, Bryony's main character, in the book trailer.


6) How did you combat nerves during the night of the filming?

"Listening to K-Pop music and talking to my best friend Rachel."


7) What did you find challenging about filming the trailer?

"The mansion had no heat, and I was getting over a cold, so I was not a hundred percent up to it."


8) What was the fun part of filming?

"The middle parts, because I was into the character by then."


9) What did you enjoy about the novel?

"The intriguing storyline. It shows that vampires aren't sweet, kind, and sparkly, that they care for blood and nothing else."


10) What do you hope people think when they see the trailer?

"How good Bryony is, and that they want to read it."

Meet "Melissa" of the Bryony Book Trailer, Part 1

Weeks before filming of the Bryony book trailer commenced, Bryony filmmaker Stephen Tuplin had an actress interested in portraying novel's main character, Melissa Marchellis.

But when a scheduling conflict arose, Stephen approached my seventeen-year-old daughter, Rebekah Baran, about the role. Rebekah, Stephen said, resembled the image he had of Melissa while reading the book.

Now Rebekah is very shy, so I had doubts she'd accept the part. To my surprise, she enthusiastically agreed.


1) Did you have any prior acting experience?

"A little. I had done some acting in plays through my church and homeschool coop."


2) Why did you want to portray Melissa?

"I thought it would be fun to play her because she's not perfect like characters in other books. She was naive and didn't give it much thought before making a deal with John. And the director and my sister said I looked like her."


3) Was it hard to learn your part?

"Not really. The only hard part was learning how to sway properly."


4) What helped you rehearse?

"Listening to slow Super Junior music."


5) Did your brothers really heckle you?

"Yes. They poked jokes at me during practice so I wouldn't be nervous."

Piano Hymns Count Your Blessings -Yoke Wong

Limericks by Other Famous People

Other than whom? Why, Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara, of course.

Although the IVA considers Calkins the most renowned and most prolific limerick author, other writers have penned them, too.

These include, in addition to Edward Lear, Rudyard Kipling, Mark Twain, H.G. Wells, James Joyce, Lewis Carroll, Aldous Huxley, and George Bernard Shaw.

To read these limericks and more, visit http://www.freewebs.com/grahamlester/classics.htm

The Birthday of the Infanta by Oscar Wilde

This story is from a collection of Wilde's fairy tales, published in his House of Pomegranates in the late nineteenth century.

A Spanish princess is celebrating her twelfth birthday with the typical trappings of fairy tales: talking flowers, birds, animals, and scores of native children, all of which adore her.

Then an unusual creative also comes to pay her homage and entertain her. The story is worth the read to its chilling end.

http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/BirInf.shtml

The Supersizers Go Seventies Part 5

Song # 2 Romantic Piano Music - One Last Time by James Onohan

In the Midst of Chaos...

...is joy.

Staff changes, job uncertainty, financial woes, challenging health issues, housework back-up, and skittish technological devices. They clamor for front row life billing, but only because they scream so loudly, like a two-year-old in a tantrum fit.

Yet today has been full of sweet blessings: a personalized song link on Facebook, throwing newspapers to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack, a quick ride to the grocery store with my husband, a pleasant voice on the other end of the phone, a mid-morning chat with a good friend, a purring cat jumping into my lap for some loving (and another one, jealous, trying to edge her out), my grandson trailing after my fifteen year old youngest son and chatting away in his pretty toddler voice (and remembering how my son did the same to his oldest siblings), a hot cup of coffee, and a cold mug of ice water.

Life is good. Have a terrific day!!!
Have a wonderful day!!!

Have Flashdrive, Will Travel

Newspaper routes thrown, two meetings accomplished, voice mail, email, and Facebook messages checked, I read the thunderstorm warning in my News Feed from the Joliet Weather Center. I glance out my attic window. Humid, but sunny. By the time I finished one story on deadline and an interview, it would be too hot for a walk.

Shoot!

Timothy was driving Rebekah to a weeklong culinary class at Joliet Junior College and had just pulled out of the driveway when the sky blackened and the wind kicked up. I quickly called him. "Bad weather coming in. Be careful."

"Sunny skies where I'm heading," Timothy said.

Good. They would beat it. I opened "new document," typed the first letter and felt a huge blast through my window. Then all went black. We had no power. Great. Staff changes at the newspaper over the weekend meant my new contact's number had not yet made it into my cell phone. It was on my office phone, yes, but that one was dead.

After Timothy dropped Rebekah off at school, he called to let me know she had made to class on time. So, I asked if he could send email from his new phone. He could, but didn't really know how. So I called Bryony's web administrator, Sarah Stegall, who lives out of state.

"Can you email my editor?" I asked.

I gave her the address and a few bullet points, then called my mother who lived in the next town. She still had power and was more than happy to share her electricity and internet service. So I packed my notes and flashdrive and headed over.

After I met the most immediate deadlines, I spent a deligthful afternoon catching up on an editing project, free from phone calls, instant messages, texts, and compulsive checking of my news feed. Later, my parents invited me to dinner and even made sure Timothy and Rebekah ate when they returned from cleaning the warehouse. I called Christopher and asked him to buy dinner for everyone else. Daniel even assumed my household chores.

With an editor going on vacation and needing her upcoming pages filled before she left, the last couple of weeks were busier and crazier than usual. Then I learned my new contact would be on vacation next week, so she needs her stories stockpiled, too. Throw a few family emergencies in the mix, tack on several thousand extra sets of weekend inserts (It's vacation time  for newspaper carriers, too), and, although thankful for much work, my mind felt flat and body longed for a break.

It came today in the form of a power outage. Coincidence or providence?

You can be sure that God will take care of everything you need, his generosity exceeding even yours in the glory that pours from Jesus. Philippians 4: 19.

Blessed Assurance (Piano Hymn)

1/4 The Best Of Dave Allen...The Comedy Sketches

The Griffon and the Minor Canon

The Griffin and the Minor Canon by Frank Stockton (1834-1902) was a story Bryony might have read growing up under the minister's care. The town church boasted a terrifying stone carving of a Griffin. When a Griffin living in the wild, who has also never seen his reflection, comes to view the statue, the town goes into frenzy.

Minor Canon was sent to call on the Griffin and couldn't seem to part with him once met. The higher priests in the church had fled upon the Griffin's arrival leaving Minor Canon to deal with the unpleasant situation. What happens after is surprising. Read it for free here: http://www.classicshorts.com/stories/griffin.html

Sarah Stegall

The Supersizers Go Seventies Part 4

Song #1 Romantic Piano and Flute - "A Dream Within A Dream" by James Onohan

Impatient and Stalling

Last night at dinner, my oldest son called dibs on the first copy of Bryony's prequel when it's done.

I laughed. I've barely begun it.

"I'll be sending it to you from the nursing home," I said.

He pointed his fork at at me. "So hurry up and write it."

If only it was that simple.

Much has changed since I wrote the first three drafts of the Bryony series. My schedule's tighter with paying jobs (a good thing), while my household assistances (i.e. children) are aging out of their understudy roles and into their adult lives. All the manuscript editing that accompanies a novel on its way to publication eats up plenty of time, too.

While those are good reasons (excuses?) for not spending entire weekends before my attic desktop in an over-caffeinated fictional bliss, a harder truth eyeballs me and says, "You're afraid to start over."

Not afraid, I argue back. But definitely hesitant.

It's been over a year since I completed Bryony's third book, which ends the series, but in the meantime, I've done a lot of editing and rejoiced in the polishing of my work. Once you've experienced the fun of entertaining someone with your words, it's hard to step back and write something really awful, but that's foundational nature of first drafts. That's why their called "first." And "drafts."

And while my writing assignments require I write first drafts all day long, the material, at its source, is not mine. It doesn't spring from my imagination. Digesting your own bad writing is truly a humbling experience, and one I've not had to face for some time.

When ideas overflow and spill out, I become impatient at a life that doesn't allow for spontaneous composing when the muse demands it. When I do carve out that time and creativity doesn't immediately flow, I can easily fill those hours with other writing projects and feel justified doing so.

The answer? Not sure, but I know one thing. I WILL eventually write it.

Because I have to.

William Faulkner Nobel Prize Speech

"Savior like a shepherd lead us" with "Take my life" ( and let it be) Pi...

Traditional Irish Blessing

"We Are Seven" by William Wordsworth

We Are Seven

By William Wordsworth 1770–1850


A Victorian poet wonderfully expresses my feeling of family and eternity.



———A simple Child,

That lightly draws its breath,

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?


I met a little cottage Girl:

She was eight years old, she said;

Her hair was thick with many a curl

That clustered round her head.


She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad:

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;

—Her beauty made me glad.


“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,

How many may you be?”

“How many? Seven in all,” she said,

And wondering looked at me.


“And where are they? I pray you tell.”

She answered, “Seven are we;

And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.


“Two of us in the church-yard lie,

My sister and my brother;

And, in the church-yard cottage, I

Dwell near them with my mother.”


“You say that two at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,

Sweet Maid, how this may be.”


Then did the little Maid reply,

“Seven boys and girls are we;

Two of us in the church-yard lie,

Beneath the church-yard tree.”


“You run about, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five.“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”

The little Maid replied,

“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,

And they are side by side.


“My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit,

And sing a song to them.


“And often after sun-set, Sir,

When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.


“The first that dies was sister Jane;

In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.


“So in the church-yard she was laid;

And, when the grass was dry,

Together round her grave we played,

My brother John and I.


“And when the ground was white with snow,

And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,

And he lies by her side.”


“How many are you, then,” said I,

“If they two are in heaven?”

Quick was the little Maid’s reply,

“O Master! we are seven.”


“But they are dead; those two are dead!

Their spirits are in heaven!”

’Twas throwing words away; for still

The little Maid would have her will,

And said, “Nay, we are seven!”