Deus volt; Deus mittit me.

Friday, January 29, 2016

My Ireland Contest

When I go places, I like to do things that not every tourist does, because I'm kind of a rebel. I know there are loads of people who wish they could go there, so I'd like to bring you along on my trip vicariously.

The Contest:

For a dollar payable to my Paypal account, I'll put you on the SPECIAL list which gets you pictures and movies as regularly as I can send them (I'm sure there are some places which can't handle pictures or movies sent over the Internet). At the very least they'll come when I get home. 

The Lure:

These aren't just any old pictures or movies. Send me suggestions of wacky, out-of-the-normal things to do while I'm there in a comment on this blog. The best suggestion gets a free book by yours truly. I'm also up for doing some research. I'm doing book research for one thing. I'd also like to find the parents of an ancestor of mine. Message me here and we can talk.

The Rules:

It can't be anything illegal, extremely dangerous (like eating jellyfish), or sexual (because I love my husband). And I don't drink liquor. At all. I'm pretty wacky without it.

Go to it, my imaginative friends...:o) 

Now I have to go figure out how to do the Paypal thing (Already have an account--just don't know how to hook it here for other people to use.) and about a bazillion other things.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Taking the Short View

It's been a day. And a month. And a year. I was trying to get all kinds of things done: fixing the colored lanterns I made in October (it's my goal to fix or mend something almost every day so I can whittle down the huge box of penny ante things waiting impatiently for my attention), mending, cleaning, writing poetry, cleaning,  dealing with all the post-its and junk on my desk begging for a place in the spotlight, general things that hang out on my to-do list and never get done.

So it came time to take J to work and the dang car wouldn't start. Hubs was working somewhere where the phone doesn't get coverage. So now I can't get his help in putting the charger on the car. For some reason it's not good to just hook the old battery feed bag on and stand back. Things tend to explode all over and get battery acid everywhere if you do it wrong, apparently. So I guess I'm stuck until the Hubs can get to somewhere with coverage--probably the end of the day, dang it. So annoying. There are things to do. Bank, Scout office, picking up the boy, shopping. Now it all won't get done until I buy another battery. Or something. Big sigh.

I've spent much of my time lately working on MUDLARKS and journaling. I've needed to get that going again for years. I took my sister's challenge to write something every day. So being all verbose and everything, it means I haven't been writing here.

I've also got a new church job. I'm the 1st Counsellor in the Stake Primary, especially in charge of cub scouts. Just last month I was thinking about becoming an ex scouter...rofl rofl rofl. Then I got called to this job, which plunges me in much deeper and with plenty of other duties with the girls too.I thought I was busy with being Relief Society President...hah.

I'm also getting things done to go to Ireland at the end of April. I so can't wait! I went down and applied for a passport and everything. I will soon be the proud owner of a brand spanking new passport! I'll travel to somewhere I've been longing to go for decades (you know...beyond birth...rofl). I'm going to study some Gaelic phrases so I can actually thank them in their own language. And ask for the bathroom and order some bangers and mash.

Anywho, I have to go do some more of those things or they'll revolt and pull me down and kick me and stomp on me.

Back if I survive.

Monday, December 21, 2015

The Excuses Abound

It's echoing in here something fierce. I've been hitting it hard in NANOWRIMO and now have over 30K words out of 50K for the month. I'm working on a book called MUDLARKS--a Dickens-style book set along the Thames.

I wasn't going to write this book until I went to London to experience the Thames myself. However it wouldn't wait. Sarah/Molly and Josiah/Joss couldn't wait any longer. The book that WILL have to wait, however, is FORLORN HOPE, a book about a band of people attempting to lift a siege on a castle. Hopefully in May I'll be kicking back in a real castle and can gather an inordinate amount of research...:o)

Anywho, there are all kinds of ways to avoid writing all day and today I used up several. I went and rescued a friend from walking home, had a good-sized chat about all things important, took the dog for a pint-sized run, and fetched the boy home from school. I'm sure tomorrow there'll be another load of excuses. But forcing myself to plant myself on my bed, open my laptop, and plow through my imagination is paying off. 

Anyway, I'm off to bed. I've been writing most of the afternoon/evening/night and I need to regenerate.

Me and This Belief of Mine

This month of December has been one of the more difficult months in Heidian history. I won't say why because it's personal. But I will say this:

It was a test. I don't know if I passed, but I'm being blessed by God with exactly what I begged Him for. I begged Him to let me feel His love wrapping around me. I asked to know my worth to Him. And He is answering those prayers in a hundred little ways, such that His presence cannot be ignored or chalked up to fate or coincidence or any other silly happen stance.

Even if I were a rank unbeliever, which I'm not, the body of evidence would be unavoidable and starkly evident.

I am so grateful for the gift of his Son, our Elder Brother. I feel His regard daily. I know He loves me. I know He thinks enough of me to test me with some pretty serious things. And I know He waits to talk to me and to listen to what I have to say.

And someday I'm going to take all this anguish and the things I learn from it, and because I'm a writer, I'm going to write it.

Jesus lives. He sits at the right hand of God, the Father of it All. He watches over us and cares for us and directs us in our quest to come back to live with Him. He is our grandest cheerleader, our lighthouse, our signpost, our shepherd, and our rescuer. He cares even for the smallest of our pains. And He is right there to point the way, if we'll only listen to and serve Him.

Under the direction of our Heavenly Father, Jesus the Christ built this world for us. He set the rivers in their courses and the winds to blow. He released the birds into the air, and caused the mountains to thrust into the sky. He built the lilacs and lions and lemons.

And most of all, he came to this Earth, gained a body, served God, bore His testimony thousands of times, suffered for all our ills and sins and disappointments and inequities, and died for us.

But then, trailing clouds of glory, He rose from the dead allowing us the same opportunity. He broke the gates of death, making it possible for all of us to rise once again and join those who have gone before.

This month is when we celebrate the anniversary of His birth. How can I let personal misery cloud that offering, for which He suffered already? I can but give him my perfect allegiance, my time, and my mistakes.

Thursday, December 17, 2015


I have fallen woefully behind in my posting. That's a thing which will be getting better in the new year.

Until my life gets back from being absolutely crazy, I'll post a snippet of THE DAY IT RAINED GLASS:

I still couldn’t get over how eerily quiet the city was. No hustle and bustle of scurrying feet. No lurch of bus brakes or people’s voices in a hundred different languages. But this silence lived and breathed like a crouching beast, waiting. After about a block I felt eyes on us from more than a dozen different locations.
“Rocket,” I said.
His eyes darted everywhere. “I know. I see them. One is up there on the ledge. Another guy is hunkered down behind that piece of store front. There are three more there, there and right there.” He went on, pointing out the rest. We would have to be careful of his eyes. If Vagio knew he was our scope, he’d do something about that. So I pointed out several places too.
We found cover on the street while I tried to figure out how to get higher than the snipers. Sitting down here would make me feel like one of those fish in a barrel people were always shooting.
Win ducked into a huge jumble of rubble which had once been the First National Bank. A few minutes later she came out with a rifle and a box of ammunition. She shot me a triumphant grin and ducked into a nook to load her gun. Her resourcefulness never ceased to amaze me.
Still we waited. The silence and the eyes itched at me. Who would blow the starting horn?
Then I saw it. A lone figure swaggered down the street, ownership in every purposeful step. I could tell it was supposed to be Vagio. But it wasn’t him. I could tell even though he wore a mask. He was too tall and stocky.
Rocket lifted an eyebrow at me and shook his head. He’d seen it too.
I skipped a look at Sparky holed up in a doorway. His hands glowed brighter. I shook my head, hoping he’d realize this wasn’t his target. Yet.
Rocket broke cover and skittered to a new spot further up the street.
“What are you doing in my city?” the man thundered. He must have found some kind of voice distorter, because his obviously wasn’t human, probably trying to pretend fire had roughened his voice. I wondered if any of these had been the ones who caught my mother. Had I seen this guy fight over her arm? I shuddered to my core, iced over with dread.
“I wasn’t aware we could own a city,” I said, loud enough for the man to hear. “I think I’ll go for Seattle, then: Great city, good fishing, lovely aquarium, plus the Seahawks. Nice. Thanks for the heads up.”
“So we’re dealing with a joker, is that it?” The man turned in a circle, trying to see where I hid, most likely.
I smirked behind my cover. “Naw. I’m more of the law and order type.”
“Well there’s where you’re wrong. It’ law here.”
“So not Vagio’s?” I let the barb sink in. It took a surprisingly long time before he realized I’d blown his cover. I could see it in his stance when he figured it out.
He ignored my question, repeating his own. “I ask again, what do you think you’re doing in my city?”
“I’m here in Chi-Town for a shopping trip and to pick up a friend. You? What are you here for, Nameless Guy?”
“What friend?”
“Just a guy I know. I don’t see that it’s any of your business, really.”
“It’s all my business. This isn’t the Chicago you used to know.”
“Clearly. So anyway, I’ll be off on that shopping spree.” I forced my voice to be light and airy like it used to be when I was a carefree teen.
“Come out and talk to me. I think we can offer you some things you need. Protection. Food. Friends.”
I snorted, pointing my knife at his midsection. “Uh, those aren’t things I’m shopping for. I heard there’s a sale at Nordstrom on really cute T-shirts.”
For a moment the guy made a choking sound that almost sounded like laughter. “Come to the old Sears Tower. We can have a chat.”
“I think we’re having a perfectly good conversation right here. I’ve got to go, though. I have an appointment to meet my friend.”
“If it’s Wilberforce Scroggins, he’s going to be late,” the man said smugly.
“I doubt that. He hasn’t been late for anything for quite some time.” Rocket made slashing motions at his neck. Time to abandon that area of discussion. “Anyway, if you’ll tell him I’m out here waiting for him, that’ll be great.”
“Sorry, little girl. He has decided to join The Red Watch force. He works for us”
“We still have an air force? That’s crazy. Well he must get a break sometimes, especially since I never see planes in the sky.”
Even through the mask I could tell the man had steam shooting out his nostrils, but with herculean effort, he maintained an even temper. A vein pulsed in his neck. “Vagio invites you all to join The Red Watch. In fact it’s less of an offer and more of a firm request.”
© 2015 by Indigo Chase
So that's a teaser chunk. I hope you liked it.

Monday, November 30, 2015

Of Babes and Toes and Floor Pie

The month of writing dangerously is over and I have stomped it. MUDLARKS is well on its way to the middle of it's finishedness. I have taken today off to get some chores mucking out the midden, scouring the garde-robes, blacking the guns and the shoes, and scouring all the dishes in the scullery, devising new tortures for the prisoners...that sort of thing.

We made a journey to the land of dented guardrails and vultures and ubiquitous stars to see the wee bairns--the heirs of our heirs. We did consume several tons of comestibles, not least being a large bird of the turkey variety. I wonder what ostrich would taste like?

The bairns are a total blast. Their energy and mischief are unbounded. A and I made some more pictures and should make a book together because she has inherited her mother's talent. N also shines in that area. W has a brilliant smile and a ready hug. And my dear B is a blast to tickle. I only regret not being able to play with them more this time, mainly because of The Toe.

I, the Queen of Grace, did kick the couch on my way down to put on my running shoes and go running with the Daughter of Racing, which resulted in breaking my toe. It blew up like a giant tick and looked about the same color. I couldn't even wear a shoe on it yesterday to church. Today it was almost as bad. I'm hoping it won't take long or I'll look like the Goodyear blimp fell to earth.

We played many games and made some particularly handsome gingerbread abodes and I broke my long-standing vow never to go to Walmart and never on Black Friday. But it was to hang with the Eldest and get Christmas presents. What can I say? I did not, however, wear my Walmart uniform (mukluks, a propeller beanie, and a mu-mu).

The trip home was interesting (part of it. The other part is West Texas, dull as dishwater and good for writing or sleeping through) mainly because we road on the cusp of an ice storm. In the warmest part of the day, the precipitation had iced the plants with hoar frost while leaving the ground still brown. Had we left any later, we'd have had to slow down and worry about skidding.

We did, however, learn about floor pie. It's a new thing. You take three kinds of otherwise delicious pie(pumpkin, apple, and mincemeat). Seal them on a plate in a zip lock bag. Place them on your dashboard and proceed to drive. Somewhere outside of Caldwell, we slammed on the brakes and voilĂ , floor pie. You get what you get. And if you step on the bag, it's shoe floor pie. Huh. And if you catch it mid-air, it's shoe fly pie.

So because of The Toe, the poor dog didn't get in his daily sprint today, so he's been seeking a mate (although he has lost his cahones and shouldn't have nearly that kind of drive). Mostly he's in love with my black jacket. We left the poor dog home and he has been beside himself with joy to see us and reassure himself that we still love him.

Welp. The Man has come home, patted the dog, kissed the wife, and checked the preparedness level of the food. I suppose I shall crack the whip over the table slave so we can eat sometime this century.

Monday, October 26, 2015

In the Interest of All Hallows Eve

While not being a zombie fan, it's nearly All Hallows Eve and this year I've decided to do Johnathan Coulton songs, mainly because he writes fabulous (and crazy and fairly warped) lyrics. Enjoy, my crackpot friends!
Well gee. Nobody ever ruined a pony for me. I think I might be both relieved and a little misty-eyed over that fact.
For those of us who were painfully geeky in high school. And there were a crowd of us, luckily, so I could hide out in their midst and blend in a little. I HAVE managed to make dolphins speak. The rest can only be a hop and a whir down the road. And it would have to be a pony or something since I'm already happily married.

Code Monkey is funny but has some bad language, so I won't put that one on.

So here's one of my old favs:

Yeah, it's still zombies, but pretty darn catchy. And ghoulish. And yet sweet.

Happy All Hallows Eve!

The Spide