A Hazardous Occupation

No history today - I'm too excited to look it up.

( Want to see my precious new niece? )

Today in 1908, the Tunguska event occurred in Siberia. Boom.

Does anyone else watch Harper's Island, the 13 week murder mystery miniseries on CBS this summer? I've been watching online, and I just watched episode 11 last night. I like the show - it's been fun, and I'll stick around for the whole ride. However, I was gobsmacked last night.

*MAJOR SPOILER AHEAD*
( But you have guns!?! )

Today in 1613, the Globe Theatre went up in flames during a performance of Henry the Eighth. A theatrical cannon misfired, igniting the wooden beams and thatching. According to one of the few surviving documents of the event, no one was hurt except a man whose burning breeches were put out with a bottle of ale. Beer - is there nothing it can't do?

Last night's hafla was so much fun! Our trio went really well, and the open dancing afterward was joyous and energetic. We had a fabulous turnout, too - way more than I expected. Enough people, in fact, to leave me a little nervous about going on. The Secondhand Gypsies played "Brooklyn Baladi", so I tried to dance it with my new, humongous zills...but I mistakenly put them on the wrong fingers, so one zill kept slipping off. Oops!

In wonderful promotional news, my dear friend Amy (beloved of the mighty johnbroadfoot) is a romance reviewer who's attending the RWA conference next month. She arranged to have my bookmarks included in all the goody bags!! Amy is a goddess!

Today in 1881, a secret treaty between Austria and Serbia was signed. Apparently someone didn't know how to keep a secret.

I've never been a fan of sitcoms. They remind me, in a way, of potato chips and candy - interesting in the moment, perhaps, but ultimately unsatisfying. Until my sister brought her DVD of the first season of The Big Bang Theory to the beach and convinced us to watch it.

I have, at last, discovered a sitcom that (a) actually makes me laugh and (b) doesn't make me feel sullied afterward.

Today in 1284, the legendary Pied Piper led 130 children out of Hamelin, Germany. There are as many theories about what really happened as I have fingers, but the story is creepy no matter what. Kids, don't talk to strangers in cars, don't take candy from strangers and never, ever follow a wildly-dressed musician down the street.

My Beetle comes home tonight! *happy dance*

Last night we danced hard. The annual dance showcase is looming, so the troupe worked on the two dances we're performing. Over and over...and over. I wore my new dance shoes to make sure I could dance in them. They have a tiny heel, which was strange to me, since I'm used to dancing barefooted. I thought it was okay, but today my right foot is aching something awful. I'll try them again as soon as my foot eases up, just to make sure.

I'm presently dying my tribal skirt a different color. It was originally dark yellow at the top blending to orange at the bottom, but over the last two years, the colors have bled resulting in a dark peach at the top and a faded orange below. So I'm going scarlet red. When I took it out of the washer, it looked good. I'm drying it right now. If it's not red enough, I have another bottle of dye, so I'll do it again.

Oh yeah, and writing. I'm doing that, too. *grin*

Today in 1876, during the Battle of Little Big Horn, General George Armstrong Custer witnessed a large group of Indians fleeing their village, and decided to press his advantage. He split his force of 210 men into three groups, in order to slaughter as many of the retreating noncombatants as possible. Which is right about the time Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse swept in and killed the white men. If only he'd had a chance to play D&D a little beforehand, so he could have learned that you never split the party. *grin*

I'm so happy - my baby comes home tomorrow. It's been hard this week, with him on his wilderness hike. First two kids vanished in the woods not terribly far from where my Beetle is, and then last night around midnight, my cell phone rang. I couldn't get to it in time to answer, but when I looked to see who'd called, it was the main number of the local hospital. No message left, so I assume it was a wrong number, but still, it was eerie.

Luckily I've had plenty of work to keep me busy. And back to it I go.

I'm waiting for Mark Sanford's nonsensical excuses press conference. As a South Carolinian, I have long been unhappy with his stance on education in my state. More recently I was angry over his attempt to refuse the stimulus money, and now I am horribly embarrassed by his behavior. My only comfort is in reminding myself (and telling everyone who will listen) that I never voted for him.

And I never will.

Today in 374, a sudden outbreak of St. John's Dance caused people in the streets of Aachen, Germany, to experience hallucinations and begin to jump and twitch uncontrollably until they collapsed from exhaustion. These days people dress in designer clothes and pay ridiculous money for the privilege.

My horoscope today is a bit unnerving:

Congratulations, Scorpio. You've reached the end of the Big Squeeze. You've served your time in the bottleneck. And so I invite you to relax your pinched expression, loosen up your puckered expectations, and let the Season of Experiments begin. According to my projections, you will soon be receiving a host of invitations to wander into the frontier with your raw sense of wonder turned up all the way. Please research each invitation thoroughly before choosing. When you've decided which adventures are most likely to enhance your understanding of the art of liberation, dive in.

Okay. As if I didn't already have a million things to do. *grin*

Today is Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Day!

I've always liked imagining stories, from the time I was little. I was an only child until I was eleven, so I got used to entertaining myself. Oh, the complicated webs my Barbies wove! I would wander into the marshes and pretend that I could see the elves if I was quiet enough. I learned early that telling people I thought magic was real was a sure way to frighten parents and chase playmates away. I kept my stories a secret, and never really thought about writing them down. Writers were, after all, godlike beings who lived on mountaintops and created wonders for us to read. I was just ordinary, and maybe a little nuts. Who would want to read anything I wrote?

When I was in college, I'd been doodling with writing short stories, but again, hadn't tried to get them published. A friend read one and insisted I submit it to the school anthology, where it took an honorable mention award. Still, I didn't consider myself a writer. After graduation, I was working in a mall bookstore, where part of my job involved stripping books in the paperback section. One afternoon I was upstairs going through the books when I found a copy of The Anubis Gates. The back cover was intriguing, so I bought the book that afternoon. I stayed up all night reading it. For the first time, someone had written a book that spoke to my secret notions that there is magic underlying all the ordinary aspects of modern life. How had he known? Suddenly I wanted to write something that would make other people feel the way his book had made me feel. That was the moment I decided to be a writer. Thanks, Tim!

Help me celebrate this day, y'all. Post in comments or in your own journals (or both!) about your favorite science fiction or fantasy writer.

Today in 1948, Columbia Records introduced the long-playing record album. For those of you born in the 80s, a record album was a big round disc that, when placed on a spinning platform called a turntable, would EMIT MUSIC. Seriously. Ask your mom.

I'm a bit of a mess today. I sent my Beetle off on a weeklong wilderness hike in the mountains. He's 16, practically grown, strong and healthy and has been training for this kind of thing for years, but this morning whenever I looked at him, all I could see was my helpless baby boy.

Today in 1967, Jimi Hendrix burned his guitar on stage at the Monterey Pop Festival. When I was learning to play, I often wanted to set my guitar on fire, but I don't think it would have had the same impact...

Ten Character Meme
Choose ten of your characters, then answer the questions. For best results, put names in a hat and number them at random. Some of these characters are from novels in process, so I'll do my best not to spoil anything.

1. Kestrel - pirate captain and fledgling user of magic
2. Philip McAvery - a charming rogue
3. Shadd - a big bear of a man
4. Nasrin - a lovely dancer who is more than she seems
5. Menja Lig - powerful, demanding and determined
6. Doss - a Renaissance faire stage swordsman, with an unusual heritage
7. Meridien - a girl with an unusual talent for making maps
8. Lyristus - a man who can produce poetry on the fly even though his heart is broken
9. Sebastien - has magic, will travel
10. Durango - a girl with wings on her heels determined to touch the horizon

( ANd here we go... )

It's done. The dead gulls are nearly all collected up and disposed of, between the bizarre assistance of the pelicans and the efforts of the local emergency management personnel. Once we had a smaller and more easily handled flock to deal with, I went outside and helped sweep them off the porch with a broom.  Some of them fell into bits when they hit the driveway, chunks of rotten meat with dirty feathers still attached.  The neighbors joined us, and together we cleared the yards without too much trouble.  Small bonfires are glowing up and down the beach, where the undead are burning. No new ones have turned up since sunset, so I guess the craziness is over.

There's thunder in the distance, though, and a storm warning banner on the television screen. Surely nothing like today could happen tomorrow. Could it?



** Thanks for everyone's patience while I Blogged Like It's The End Of The World a day early.  I won't have access to do it tomorrow.  Have fun, y'all!

I wish my camcorder battery had held - if only you could have seen this! Having all those gulls on the porch staring at the house was driving me batty. I knew it was dangerous, but I snapped a little. I thawed some ground beef from the freezer, crumbled it into a bowl and carefully opened the glass door and the hurricane shutter. The gulls turned their rotting heads toward me, so I moved as slowly as I could manage. Taking a handful of meat, I tossed it over the railing. Dead gulls react just like live gulls when they think food is being thrown...half a dozen of them fell over the side to the ground, chasing after the meat. I threw more, drawing their attention away from the door enough that I could step out a little farther. They were pecking at the meat, and at each other. It was truly disgusting. I wasn't sure exactly where I was planning to go with this plan, but I kept moving. Until I heard a strange sound above me. I looked up. Gulls were sitting on the roof, staring down at me. Suddenly I realized the position I'd put myself in, and started to shake. A few of the gulls had closed in between me and the door, and I was in real trouble.

I closed my eyes, and dumped the rest of the meat over the railing. And I heard a shriek. The pelicans! Pelicans patrol up and down the island all day long, usually not bothering the gulls. But apparently whatever had happened to the gulls hadn't affected the pelicans at all. They dove toward the house, scattering the wingless gulls from the roof. They thudded to the porch around me. I leaped over their stunned bodies and got back inside the house. Watching through the glass, I saw the pelicans scooping undead gulls in their pouches and flying off. Maybe we'll get out of this after all. With the help of the pelicans.

The house is a fortress at the moment, at least as far as the gulls are concerned. The island got power back a couple of hours ago, so we can see television reports from Charleston. The Market is covered in dead gulls and pigeons. None of them can fly any more, so they're strutting around the sidewalks attacking foolish tourists. They have this odd lurch to their strut, some of them are missing a wing or an eye. The National Guard has brigades out spraying the flocks with gasoline and setting them on fire. They're having to be careful though, since the fires could get out of control so easily, and burn down the whole city.

I peeked out of the shutters just now. The porch is loaded with gulls. The island emergency services keep saying for us to stay inside, that they'll take care of it.

I sure hope so.

The storm last night is bringing the dead to life. Not zombies, don't be silly. Dead animals! Fish are crawling up out of the ocean and snapping at people's feet. And the gulls...if I hadn't seen it myself, I would never have believed it.

I went out to help close the hurricane shutters, and there on the porch railing were a dozen gulls. One of them was bloody and torn, and the two next to it kept halfheartedly pecking at its ragged chest. It should have been dead, but it sat, staring with dull eyes. I waved at them to chase them off. One fell off the railing and started to drag itself toward me. The others scooted down the railing, their squawks less strident than usual. More of a groaning sound. The one on the floor lunged at me. I jumped back and ran for the screen door, just barely getting it closed before the bird tried again. It pecked at the screen, tearing a small hole. They could still get to me! I opened the glass door, closed the shutter over it and closed it again behind me. A moment later, I could hear tapping at the shutters. The gulls were still trying.

Dead gulls are just as determined as live ones. They just have a different food choice. How will we get out of the house?

There was a weird storm last night.

No thunder, no wind, certainly not a drop of rain. Just lightning strikes for hours. None of them hit this house, thank goodness, but they were close by. We stood on the porch for a long time, watching the lightning streak across the sky through the clouds, hitting hard on the water at the horizon. This morning no one has power, though, and the police have been driving up and down the main road, announcing over the loudspeakers that we all have to close our hurricane shutters and stay off the beach. They're recommending we stay indoors completely until further notice.

Daddy's going to get his emergency radio powered up so we can get some more information. I wonder if the storm left something dangerous on the beach.

I completely forgot to mention...

I like spiders. Not to play with, of course, but for some reason I feel a great respect for spiders, and I won't kill one unless there is no other option available. So far that situation hasn't presented itself. When I was a teacher, the school had a problem with wolf spiders coming in and making homes in the bathrooms. The others teachers were terrified of them, so they would always call me to catch them and put them outside. I perfected a cup-and-paper method that works very well. When I take the offending arachnid outside, I always give it a brief talk about who gets to live in the house and who must stay outside in the bushes, and then I let it go.

Today the office ladies were having a fit...a medium-sized spider had wandered into the office, and was between them and the door. They were trying to decide who should kill it when I showed up. I did my thing, and when I returned, they were looking at me as if I had suddenly turned green. Apparently they'd heard me talking to the spider, and now were wondering if I had lost my mind.

Silly ladies.

Today in 1829, HMS Pickle captured the armed slave ship Voladora off the coast of Cuba. Pickle? Really? And the captain was a boy named Sue, right?

The school year is, at long last, finished. I was greeted this morning by driving rain and gusty winds (nearly lost my umbrella!) but I managed to get to school on time and in one piece. We charged up the Live365 and spent the morning working on overdue notices and accounting slips. Our principal always serves lunch for the staff on the last day, as a thank you, and today we had lasagna, garlic bread and a dessert buffet (I was almost able to resist, but the strawberry cream cheese creation defeated me. Yum....) When we left, the sun had chased the rain away, and even though the humidity was thick and miserable, I didn't mind.

Two months of time to myself stretches before me. It feels like the end of a really big sigh.

*smile*

If you haven't already visited, Magical Words was fortunate to have Tiffany Trent as our very special guest today. Go over and read what she had to say!

And hey, it's almost that time of year again...I hear that there might just be another zombie uprising next Friday. Better get your undead-fighting weapons ready!

Today in 455, the Vandals entered Rome, and plundered the city for two weeks. I guess that explains all those ruins spray-painted with For a good time call Geiseric.

Saturday at the con dawned bright and grumpy. I was scheduled for the Pirates panel at 9 am. Pirates. Before noon. (  Yeah, you're getting the picture. )

Today in 1857, Charles Baudelaire's Fleurs du mal was published. Sometimes I want to grab the little emo teenagers at school, wave this book at them and say, "Nah nah...Baudelaire beat you to it!"

We spent the evening at the high school for the Beetle's academic excellence recognition ceremony. Which left me with a hideous crick in my back from sitting on the bleachers, but it was worth it. He looked so grown up!

So I'll have to tell you about Saturday at the Con tomorrow, because I just am too proud to sit still.