Randomness….

In lieu of actual blog post content (and until I can get my big Real Life Update post hammered out), some random thoughts from the mind of R. R. Goodwill:

~Quote of the Week~

So Mom and I were making supper, and she was shredding beets with the attachment on our mixer. A slice of beet got stuck between the plastic chute and the shredder and made a loud SQUEEEEEAK.

ME: *Chuckles* The screaming beet. …Actually, that pretty much accurately describes Rock ’n’ Roll.

MOM: “Squeak”?

ME: The Screaming Beat.

MOM: *Laughs*

~Conversations in my head~

I should totally learn Gaelic.

Aye, for sure! Erin go braugh!

Um, sweetie, you’re not Irish.

I am so!

OK, true, but you’re also Scottish, technically.

*Plays “Scotland the Brave” on bagpipes*

*Sigh*

AS I WAS SAYING….

I should totally learn Gaelic. No one can hear me when I talk anyhow. Then I could be going about muttering random junk like, “I want frozen yogurt,” or “Monkeys don’t like walnuts,” and if people asked me what I said, I could repeat it in Gaelic. And when they asked, “What does that mean?” I could smile impishly and reply, “Wouldn’t you like to know!” or, “That would be tellin’.”

Anka, you need a Tumblr account, not a weblog.

What? And have my thoughts posted in public??

Um…isn’t your blog public? I mean, you don’t have it in Protection Mode like you did your Xanga account, so…. *Shrug*

Ha! If all the Internet were an interactive, highly-detailed map of the world, my little blog would be a pin-prick on the coffee table.

In some old granny’s attic. :-P

Did you just call Blogger an old attic?

* * *

And just for laughs and giggles, a few of my favorite snippets from some of my WIPs. Ones without a book title attached are ones I’m still figuring out where they belong in the timeline. Ahh, the joys of non-linear inspiration….

(All pictures via Pinterest)

Enjoy:

     Another door opened down the hall, and a lady with bobbed silvery hair poked her head out. “What on earth is that racket downstairs?” she asked, adjusting her large, black-rimmed spectacles. “And what’s all this I hear about burglars?”

     “They—they’re trying to break down the door, Lillian!” Mrs. Daley wailed, running up to her with the poker in hand.

    “Then they must be rather stupid burglars,” Lillian quipped. “Thieves generally don’t alert their intended victims that they’re about to break into the house; they use lock-picks. You know that, Alice Daley.”

     “Oh—yes—of course,” Mrs. Daley gulped. “I—I just forgot. I haven’t my full senses at night.”

~Prince Nácil

     Jason smiled sheepishly, his face as hot as the sizzling bacon on the table, and held out the wildflowers. “Happy Birthday,” he squeaked in almost-perfect Gaelic.

     Ember blinked, still squinting, a few seconds as her groggy brain gradually processed his words. Then she beamed at him and took the flowers happily. “Oh!” she crowed. “Oh! ’Tis my birthday—of course! Thank’ee, boy-o; that was sweet of you to remember.” Then, smiling impishly, she practically shoved her face in the bouquet and inhaled their fragrance aggressively.

     “What are you doing?” Jason cried.

     “You told me to take time to smell the flowers,” she explained. Then she sneezed violently, scattering pollen and loose petals in his face.

~Jason Windrider

     “Henceforth, you are no longer my sister, but my enemy—a traitor to our people. You may style yourself as Queen of the Fae, O Krystála, but my allegiance is to Prince Nácil, and in his name I shall fight you.”

     Lady Krystála threw her head back and laughed heartily. “You?” she sneered. “What power do you possess to fight me, little Müriel? You who cannot cast a spell without the aid of your silly wand? You who tremble at every raised voice and loud noise? And as for your precious Prince Nácil,” she continued, narrowing her eyes and smirking, “he is as good as dead. He has suffered a mortal sorrow—”

     “—which you yourself inflicted upon him!” Müriel shouted.

     “—and we all know that even the High-elves cannot last long in such a state,” Lady Krystála continued, ignoring her interruption. “He will die in the World of Men, and Ýdára shall be purged of Othniel’s line. Or, should he be foolish enough to return hither, he shall die regardless. Do not put your hope in him, little girl; he will not return.”

     Müriel started hard at her, a frown of anger, hurt and sorrow weighing down her countenance. “You are well named Krystála,” she said, “for its root—krystalos—means ‘ice’ in the tongues of Men. When they first beheld rock quartz, they believed it to be ice that was permanently frozen—as is your heart. Therefore Iceheart I name you, for you are cold as the winds upon the snow-capped mountains, with a heart as hard and pitiless as stone.”

~Rise of Iceheart

     “Ugh,” Tom snorted, wrinkling her nose; “love-letters are such slush—nothing but a bucketful of pure, sloppy, maple-syrup-infused, sentimental slush!”

     “Have you got enough adjectives there, Tommy-lass?” Ember snickered.

     “I daresay I’ve used up my quota for one sentence,” Tom smirked, “but seriously! Why can’t folk talk sensibly when they’re in love? If I wrote Ciaran and called him ‘my precious darling,’ he’d laugh his head off. Or think I’d gone daft. I never called him such silly names before I discovered I loved him; why should I do it afterwards? And if he was sappy enough to give me such an epitaph,” she concluded, “I’d call him a numpty.”

Scottish Gaelic

     “Tell you what,” Anton replied, sliding a comforting arm about Jason’s shoulders, “if you’re killed, I’ll guard your body ’till the fighting is over. Then I’ll have you burned and take your ashes to the Elves, and I’ll have them use them to make a precious gem. Then I’ll take your and Ember’s swords and have a sword maker combine them into a whacking-great claymore, and I’ll set the hilt with the gem made from your remains. I’ll give the thing to Ember, and she can find the people who killed you and hack them to pieces with the claymore.”

     Jason shot him a sideways dubious look. “Er…thank you…?”

     Ciaran raised his eyebrows. “’Tis both disturbin’ an’ amazin’ that be, at the same time.”

The quote that inspired this snippet

 ~The Treasure of Rainbow Rock

     “Perhaps Jane woke up again, and Lillian had to reassure her that everything is all right,” Alice suggested.

     “My granddaughter,” Mrs. Whittaker explained, handing Victor a cup of tea. “She’s only seven, you see, and little girls frighten easily in thunderstorms like this.”

     Victor’s cup paused halfway to his mouth, and he stared into it silently for a moment. His friendly smile had faded into an expression of sadness, and his twilight-gray eyes misted over. “Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than to the two ladies, “yes, I know about—about little girls.”

~Prince Nácil

     To Tom’s horror, Shadow took a flying leap into the mixing-bowl containing the dry ingredients, and Midnight jumped in after his brother. Pouff! A cloud of flour shot up as the kittens scrambled to get out of the bowl. Tom wailed in despair and was about to grab them both by the scruff of the neck, when they leapt over the opposite side and skittered across the rest of the island, dropping to the floor with a plop and a small explosion of flour. Shadow shook off the remaining flour from his fluffy hide, but a good amount had stuck to Midnight’s face, looking for all the world like some sort of mask.

     “Cat, you look like a demon,” Tom snorted, still angry.

     Ember pretended to be frightened and crossed herself. “Elyon preserve us!” she ejaculated. “’Tis the Flour Demon!” Then she laughed at her own foolishness.

     Anton snorted. “She always did treat me like her idiot brother.”

     “Well, frankly,” Jason remarked, “you sometimes act like it. Not that I’m calling you an idiot, mind,” he added quickly, “and I’m not taking her side against you, exactly… but, well…as I see it—personally—you are rather in the wrong here.”

     “So what am I supposed to do? Saddle my horse and chase after her? Dash into the theater and beg her forgiveness on bended knee?”

     “Oh, I’m sure she’d love that,” Jason chuckled ruefully. “Not to mention everyone in the theater. No, I’d wait for her to come home, and have something nice prepared for her—including a sincere apology.”

     Anton’s mouth curled into a mischievous smile.

     Jason pointed a finger in his face. “No exploding root beer!” he ordered.

     Anton made a face. “You’re no fun.”

     A chunk of the snow covering the boulder suddenly gave way under Yokúl’s hand, and he tumbled forward. The boulder happened to be on a slope, so down rolled Yokúl, head-over-heels, his clothes gathering snow along the way, straight for the circle of Snow-faeries. He passed right between two of the Snow Queen’s handmaidens—giving them quite a start—and crashed into the heels of Snow Queen herself before she had time to do more than look behind her. The snow he had accumulated burst off in a minor explosion, most of it coating the hem of her gown. Yokúl lay flat on his back, staring up into the upside-down face of the Snow Queen, who peered at him with a sort of cold curiosity.

     Yokúl flashed her a sheepish half-smile. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he quipped.

~Ice and Snow

     “You!”

     The Man froze in his tracks, his eyes wide with terror, his face taking on a grayish hue.

     “Come hither!” Obsidia commanded.

     The Man trembled all over himself, jerkily putting one foot before the other as he reluctantly approached the Dragoness. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came forth.

     “Speak!” Obsidia bade him, snorting two thin wisps of smoke out her nose.

     “P-please,” he begged, his voice squeaking, “spare my life, I b-beg of you—and—and in return I—I shall give you my two young daughters. They will be sweeter, and tenderer, than an old goat like me—”

     Obsidia clashed her teeth together, her eyes flashing amber-red for a moment. “Am I one of the foul Ýrkhós”*—she spat out an ember as she said the word—“that you offer me Man-flesh?! I am Obsidia, the Black Fire-dragoness! And I. Do. Not. Eat. MAN!” She stared hard at him, her face moving closer and closer to his as she spoke, until their eyes were less than a foot apart.

     The Man shuddered worse than before, perspiration rolling down his face. “A-a thousand pardons, O Great One!” he began.

     “Cease your gibbering, Man—if indeed a man you be, and not a mouse,” she snorted, backing away a very little. “Now hearken! I have a request to make of you.”

     “I—I shall do whatever you ask,” the poor Man whimpered, “if you will but spare me.”

     Obsidia fixed him with a paralyzing gaze and stared at him steadily, unblinking, for several seconds, until the fellow looked ready to faint. “Teach me all there is to know about the preparation of food!” she ordered in her most imperious voice.

~Jason Windrider

*Ýrkhós = The collective name given to Goblins, Hobgoblins, and Orcs in Ýdára

     “What’s the matter? Why are you crying? Aren’t you happy here?”

     Jane wiped her eyes. “I—I am grateful—for—for all your kindness,” she slurred, “but—but—but what if I can’t get home again? What if I’m trapped here forever?”

     Harold blinked. “Oh, is that all? Why, if that happens, then you can stay here with me and Lady Müriel. She’ll take good care of you, and so will I.” He brightened. “See here! We could pretend you’re my sister, and—Well, now what’s wrong?”—as Jane’s eyes filled with tears again.

     “That’s what Robert says,” she whimpered.

     “Who is Robert, dear heart?” Lady Müriel asked gently.

     “My friend who lives over the hill in the West pasture,” Jane replied, rubbing her eye. “He’s so kind to me—he tells Teacher when the other boys tease me—and pretends I’m his little sister. He has ever so many big sisters,” she explained, dabbing her handkerchief at her nose, “but he says he always wanted a little sister to take care of, so he chose me.”

     “He sounds like a special person, indeed,” Lady Müriel smiled.

     Jane nodded. “Oh, he is. I—I wish he was here….” And she buried her face in her already sodden handkerchief.

~Prince Nácil

     Anton beat the drum at a regular interval—dum, dum, rat-tat-tump, dum, dum, rat-tat-tump—perfect for marching to. The others kept time more or less perfectly, but Anton of course could not be confined to merely marching. He skipped and hopped and pranced like a high-stepping pony—all in time to his drumbeat—chanting boldly and cheerfully at the top of his voice:

The Donkey and the Elephant

Went to the land of Hackenstant—

Tump, tump, tump, hilay!

And as they walked,

Nor never talked,

They sang this pleasant little chant:

Tump, tump, tump, hilay!

Tumpty-tumpty, tump, hilay!

Huzzah!

     “What nonsense might this be, then?” Ember muttered.

     “Oh, you know Anton,” Fiona whispered. “Whatever brings a smile to folks’ faces or provokes a good laugh, he’s sure to think of it.”

     “And run with it,” Jason chuckled.

     “Wait!” Yokúl cried.

     The Frost King halted and shot him an annoyed glance over his shoulder.

     “I—I have a request.”

     “What is it?” Krystalós sneered. “Are you going to beg for your life, Leaf-painter?”

     “No, sir; I know that would be useless. My request is simply this: If you’re going to kill me, then do it yourself—with your own hands. Anyone can have lackeys and underlings do their killing for them, but have you the courage to look me in the eye as you strike me down? To watch the life slowly fade from my eyes? If you’re going to take my life, Krystalós of the Frost, then you owe me that much. If you can’t, then you’re a bigger coward than I gave you credit for.”

     The Frost King glared at him several seconds in cold, stony silence. He turned to face Yokúl and took a few forceful steps forward, gripping the wolf’s-head handle of his sword. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he growled.

---------------

     The blade whistled through the air as its sharp edge neared Yokúl’s neck. Yokúl swallowed involuntarily and closed his eyes, squaring his shoulders and taking what he believed to be his last breath.

     The whistling ceased suddenly, and the wolves and Efríts behind him groaned and yammered in dismay. Yokúl opened his eyes and saw the Frost King looking at him with confusion—and even a bit of fear—flickering across his face. He held the sword parallel to the snow-covered ground, barely an inch away from Yokúl’s neck.

     “No,” Krystalós intoned, his voice like a glacier. He brought the tip of the sword under Yokúl’s chin and lifted it up. “That is too quick and clean a death for an upstart like you.”

     Yokúl exhaled softly, relief flooding through him. He smirked up at his would-be executioner. “I knew you couldn’t do it.”

~Ice and Snow

     “When one person loves another very much, it’s as though that other person is a part of one—as though God Himself had knitted their hearts together in such a way that each can feel what the other is feeling. Perhaps your grandmother means that she loves you so much, little Jane, that, when you’re sad, or afraid, or hurt, she feels it with you. But love can also rejoice with the happiness of those we love,” he added, smiling slightly.

     “That’s like something Jesus said in the Bible!” Jane exclaimed. “He said to ‘weep with those who weep,’ and ‘rejoice with those who rejoice,’ but I never knew that was part of loving someone. But that makes sense…only…I can’t really explain why.”

~Prince Nácil

     The children circled the tower, feeling carefully along its smooth, beautifully carved walls. But there didn’t appear to be anything like a door anywhere.

     Sierra looked upwards, gazing at the windows. She chuckled as an idea came to her.

     “What?” Shasta asked, hearing her.

     Sierra blushed. “Oh, well,” she simpered, “I was just thinking of the story of Rapunzel. We’re kinda like the prince; we want to get in, but there’s no door.”

     “Say, there’s an idea!” Shasta beamed. With that, she faced the nearest window and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” she shouted.

     The children watched anxiously—Sierra rubbing her right ear, which Shasta had accidentally yelled into—but the windows remained shut.

     “Phooey,” Shasta grumbled.

~The Tower of Pearl

     “I don’t like the thought of dying any more than you do,” Robert continued. “But if I could save you somehow…then it wouldn’t be so bad. And if I can’t…well, I meant what I said: I’ll protect you, Jane—with my last breath, if necessary.”

     “Oh, please don’t talk like that.”

     “Why not? It’s true.”

     Jane’s body shook with a repressed sob, and she sniffled softly. “I don’t want to die,” she whimpered. “There were things I wanted to do before…before I went to Heaven.” She looked ruefully up at him. “I’m sure you feel the same way.”

     “If you only knew,” he murmured.

~The Obsidian Castle

     Othniel smiled softly at her. “Princess,” he murmured, “why are you doing this? Yesterday you did not know I existed, yet you are willing to help me become your partner for life. You have my admiration, yet I am curious as to your motives.”

     Again [Jael] looked up at him with eyes shining like sapphires, peering steadily at him without speaking for a moment. At length she replied, “You have become almost a legend among the peoples, much talked of and that right favorably. This day I have seen with my own eyes that the reports of you are true, and that has earned you my respect—which is not an easy thing to obtain, mind you.” Sadness clouded her face for a moment. “But there is a greater cause for me to approve of you: Sítára Halfelven was my friend, and her banishment is a bitter trial to those who love her. She wrote to me and told of how you changed her mother’s curse into a blessing, though she had wronged you greatly. For this, I have long admired you, and prayed Elyon that He would bless you for it.”

~The Labors of Othniel

     “Why, hullo there, Stardust.”

     “What? That.”

     “Come now, little one, you know a book when you see it.”

     “Book.”

     “That’s right. A very interesting book, which I’m trying to read just now.”

     “Teach!”

     “You want me to teach you to read?”

     “Read! Knowledge.”

     “Well, I can’t argue with that. But this is rather advanced to start off with. If you’re going to learn reading, you’ll need to start at the beginning.”

     Anton closed the book, ignoring Stardust’s whimpering, and found a stout stick nearby. “We’ll begin with the letters.” He wrote out the alphabet in the dirt with the stick, reciting the name of the letters as he drew them. Stardust hovered over each letter and studied it carefully, repeating the names back to him.

     “Good. Now I’ll point to a letter, and you tell me what it is, all right?”

     “Right!”

    He pointed to a T. “What’s this letter?”

     “I!”

     “Try again.”

     “L!”

     “Try again.”     

     “Too hard.”

     “You give up too easily, little one. That’s a T. But perhaps I’m going too fast. Let’s say them all again from first to last.”

     Just then, Oriános fluttered down, landing squarely in the middle of the alphabet.

     “Teach Oriános, too!” he begged.

     “Well, all right, but you’ll have to move your tail, Golden Boy; you’re sitting on your lesson just now.”

~The Silver One

* * *

That’s enough for now. Many more snippets, and y’all won’t need to read my books when (Lord willing) they’re published, LOL.

Until next time, Gentle Readers,

God bless,

~R~

“Can I call you *Bob*?”

(Virtual cookies to whoever gets the joke! ;-))

I was—keyword WAS—going to do a Rapunzel-themed April Fool’s post today, and see if I could fake you-all out into thinking I’d gotten a chin-length bob….

…but then Blogger ATE MY DRAFT just because I accidentally went into edit mode and back out again without saving, even though I hadn’t made any changes. (WHAT?!) Hours of work—finding the right pix, linking to the sources like a good girl, writing it all out, polishing and proofreading and previewing to get it looking (mostly) just right—and months of waiting to spring my loverly, clever little joke on my Gentle Readers…down the flush.

You bet I was mad.

And I didn’t feel like re-writing it (and when I tried, it came out all stupid).

So instead, I’ll just come out and say it: I cut my hair. Actually, Mom cut my hair, but at my request.

And now some of you are looking at me like

"What have you DONE?!"

Just stay with me here....

In a nutshell, it was too long to leave down without getting in the way (or tucked into my jeans along with my shirts :-P), and the waist-length braid was feeling rather stale and unflattering. I wanted something fresh and new…and that didn’t take ten or fifteen minutes to fix in the mornings when I feel like I need to go-go-go ASAP.

In all honesty, I actually did seriously consider a short bob (but a LOT better looking than that stupid Anime-inspired monstrosity they gave poor Rapunzel. FAIL). However…well, a chin-length bob with straight hair tends to look rather plain. And I feel plain enough as it is, most of the time.

OH, ANKA, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!!!

Thanks, boy-o…but you’re prejudiced. ;-)

Plus chin-length is rather short, almost too short to look feminine (on me, anyhow). So I took Mom’s advice and went with a less drastic length.

Ta-da! *Cue dorky smile*
All pix but this one taken by Mom

(Fun fact: The first thing out of my brother’s mouth when he saw it was, "Hey, Jo." *Snicker*)

And now that you’ve (hopefully) recovered from my shocking bit of news, here are some better pix of my new ’do:

Mom wanted to curl the ends after cutting it,
to see how it would look.
Obviously, one side was still dampish :-P

Hair was still wet back there,
so it didn't curl, LOL

Cute, ja? 

This was actually a couple inches longer than I intended—I was thinking of just-barely-shoulder-length—but Mom cut it longer, and when I saw it, I realized it was quite short enough, and that any shorter would probably be hard to put up in the Summer. 

It’s a bit plain, perhaps, and definitely a major change from what I’m used to, but soooo much easier to care for and deal with already. I love it!

(For the curious, we actually made the chop back in March, but it was too perfect an April Fool’s gag! Or would have been, if Blogger hadn't been such a snot.) 

This length will allow me to put it up if I’m so inclined (even in curlers, as pictured below), but is still short enough that I don’ t have to all the time. It pretty much stays out of my way, and I don’t have to deal with a three-foot hairy curtain or thickish braid sweeping the floor when I bend over, now. :-P

I look a bit stoned here, LOL
...although the pix we took before  were worse.
I miss being photogenic

My aunt gave me a bunch of headbands shortly before The Haircut, and I’ve found they work really well! A pair of simple hair-clips is good for at-home days, too, and to my delight, I can still dress up my shorn locks with hair-flowers and ribbons!

Headband and Curls. (No, nobody punched my lights out.
I have permanent dark circles. Mreh.)

So, what are your thoughts?  
Did my news shock the tar out of you, or are you still chuckling?  
Do you love my new do, hate it, or not care one way or another? 
I want to know!

MOM: "OK, Licorice, tickle her so she'll smile."
*Cat rubs against ankles*
ME: *Laughs*
CAMERA: *Click*

Until next time, Gentle Readers,

God bless,

~R~

New Year’s Reflections

Lord, help me be all You want me to be

Help me find what You have in mind for me.

Let me look to You

In all I do;

Help me be all You want me to be.

~Go For the Goal!

Who am I, really? Probably every person on the planet asks themselves that question. Each of us goes through a journey of self-discovery on the road of life, and for the Christian, it involves finding God’s purpose for us in this life, in preparation for our Eternal one.

I’ve been through a lot in my life, not least of which has been the ongoing study of fashion and how it affects one’s looks, and as a tool for self-expression. It’s fascinating, learning how the right colors can bring an otherwise dull complexion to life, or how certain styles can enhance the best features of even the most “awkward” figure, while gently downplaying the perceived “faults.” How certain styles, colors, and embellishments can reflect one’s personality. There’s nothing wrong with this, in and of itself…but to obsess over one’s looks is not only wicked; it’s unhealthy. To elevate the outward appearance to such an important status that it overshadows the inner being—the character and heart-attitudes that are of more worth to God than mere looks—can bring a load of grief. Stress and anxiety from self-imposed standards (admittedly gleaned from the media of our society). Depression that one doesn’t fit the mold of what the world deems “attractive.” Spending money on clothes (or materials to make them) in hopes that they will somehow bring happiness and beauty to one’s life. (And in my case, added to the mix is the delusion that by dressing similarly to my favorite fictional characters, I could somehow be like them, a part of the world they live in.)

I’ve been there, and it’s not fun.

This has resulted in boxes overflowing with potential sewing projects—many of them fabulous and exciting…but not especially practical outside ComiCon or a Ren Fest. (And now that there’s a bit more of me than there was at eighteen, some styles I’ve chosen aren’t even flattering anymore.) You’ve heard me mention the “ginormous pile of sewing” looming over me for many years—usually as a joke, but with a real undercurrent of stress…which has often affected my health and threatened my sanity. I’m convinced this is NOT what God intended when He gave me my imagination, my powers of analysis and creativity, and ability to work with my hands.

By God’s grace, I was FINALLY able to whittle down my sewing and alterations this year. I’m gradually developing a better sense of my personal style—slowly separating the fantastical dreams from the pretty-but-practical Reality.

I’m tired of obsessing over my looks and my wardrobe. Tired of trying to look like an Elf, or a Hobbit-lass, or a Disney Princess, or even a heroine from my own books. I’m even getting tired of trying to do my hair in elegant updos and romantic curly styles…only to end up with Anna’s Bed-head or Bad ’80s Frizz at the end of the day. I’m tired of trying to be pretty and ending up looking awkward and overdressed.

In other words, I’m tired of trying to be something I’m not and making myself miserable. It’s time to stop play-acting, find out exactly who I am and what that looks like, and be content. And if that means T-shirts instead of peasant blouses, knits and rayon instead of chiffon and lace, and “normal/modern” styles instead of Regency frocks and female Robin Hood-esque ensembles…then so be it.

She wears short skirts,

I wear T-shirts—

Um, Anton?

She wears high heels,

I wear sneakers—

Pixie….

She’s cheer captain, and—

I’M ON THE BLEACHERS!!!

I’m ashamed we even know that song….

Thanks a HEAP, you guys. :-P

Aw, you were being so serious; we just had to liven things up a bit.

We thought we’d end your post on a happy note. *Silvery laugh* :-D

*Eyeroll* Or a silly one. Aw well, I appreciate the thought, anyhow.

Anyroad, I believe God is slowly showing me who I really am—gradually stripping away the veneers and masks I’ve put on over the years. Telling me it’s OK if I can’t look like my favorite characters—I can still enjoy them. That I don’t have to dress like my alter ego and other heroines from my own books in order to bring their stories to life. That dressing myself one way and my heroines another way isn’t hypocrisy; it’s realistic.

You’re being serious again.

Because this is a serious subject, sirrah. Stop interrupting.

*Salutes* Yes, sir, ma’am!

My head is full of goofballs. :-P

I sense that 2017 will be a year of change and discovery…a year of letting go of the misconceptions I’ve formed about myself and what defines and enriches my life…and perhaps about others, too. A year of doing, not just dreaming. And I know that, with God’s help, it will be.

Until next time, Gentle Readers,

God bless,

~R~

Goal-setting

With the New Year comes hope—hope that 2017 will be better than 2016, which was a rough year for us…especially December, since we were dealing with my Grandpa’s passing on November 30^th on top of all the other stress and over-commitment that was our Christmas season. -_-

Hope that the Good Lord will fill in the “missing pieces” in my family’s lives.

Hope that He will resolve some conflicts and frustrations that are blocking us from moving on and having some joy.

Hope that I’ll do better at reaching the goals I’ve set than I did last year. :-P I’m not going to go back through my list and count all the goals I didn’t meet—that’s too depressing. Instead, I’ll make a new list and pray for God’s strength and perseverance to complete it!

~Goals for 2017~

·        Organize. All. The. THINGS!!! Sorting and culling. Finding a place for everything from bed sheets to beading supplies. Ridding myself of things I don’t need or even want anymore (except a few special keepsakes, of course). Simplifying and streamlining my personal space.

·        Build my Dream Dollhouse. This has been a dream of mine for twenty-three years, and after a lot of second-guessing, confused praying, and almost physically painful waffling, I’ve decided that yes, this is something I want—something I almost need—to do. It’s time to stop dreaming, hoping, and waiting—and start DOING!
Also under this category: Doll-making. Deciding which of my numerous dolls/kits will have the privilege of living in the Dollhouse.

·        Writing! Main goal: Finish Prince Nácil. Before the family lock me up in the Tower of Ecthelion with nothing but bread and water, LOL. Also fine-tune and polish up some details for the rest of the House of Othniel/Main Series, the “spin-offs,” and work on that Blog Party I want to host someday.

·        Bethlehem Bazaar. This is a scheme Mom and I (mostly Mom) cooked up, due to the sad lack of much of anything Christ-centered at the local Christmas Bazaars. We’re talking with other church-folk in the community, and getting ideas for things to make that will focus on the Birth of Jesus. Mind you, not EVERYTHING will HAVE to be Christian-oriented; my contributions will mainly be crocheted hats (inspired by this pattern, with tweaks, of course), teddy bears that are safe even for babies, perhaps some Irish crochet hair ornaments, and of course my Wild Rose Designs jewelry.

·        General Good Habits. Things like being more cheerful/focusing on the positive, drinking more water, getting some form of regular exercise, being more regular with my Bible reading and contacting friends, going to bed and getting up at a decent hour—that sort of thing.

·        Taking Time for FUN! Spending less time on the computer [read: surfing the Internet] and more time doing things I used to love, like reading, yarnwork, embroidery, drawing, sculpting (polymer clay), miniatures, writing. Putting time slots in my schedule for those things and giving myself permission to do them. Convincing myself that my interests and hobbies are VALID.

I have a few fun craft projects I’d love to do this year, too, but I’ll share those as they progress (or I finish them). That way, if I don’t get to some of them (or I decide not to do them), it’ll be less awkward. :-P

I’m oddly hopeful about this year. Perhaps, please God, this will be the year when things start to settle into place. The year we can start thriving and blooming where God has planted us.

Maybe this is the year I’ll actually do something instead of just dreaming about it. ;-)

Until next time, Gentle Readers,

God bless,

~R~

Class of 2016

Today, my "baby brother" graduated from Rogue Community College.

Pictured with his Outstanding Student Award
('cos he didn't have his diploma yet when we took the pic)

It has been a long, grueling three years since he took that big step and made the decision to earn his AA, but God has been faithful to uphold him (even when being run through the meat-grinder that was that first year at North Idaho College--OY!), and He has brought him to this point.

 The college presented him with their Outstanding Student Award this Spring for his nearly-perfect 4.0 grade average and good attitude and work ethic. And considering his Electronic Engineering professor has only had nine students with that GPA since the 1990s till now...oops, there go my buttons again.... :-D

Congratulations, Peter! Mom and I are so proud of you!

Midway Check List

So here we are at the middle of the year. Only six months left in 2016. Zowie! Where does the time go??

Methought it fitting to check up on the goals I made back in January and see how I’m doing….

(All pix via Pinterest unless otherwise noted)

Writing Goals:

 ·        Finish first draft of Prince Nácil.

Haven’t done this yet, but I’m plugging away at it as inspiration hits. I’ll have to go some to get it finished by New Year 2017, though. (And my offer still stands for anyone who wants to beta-read it.)

Jane Foster and Elsie Douglas.
Looking forward to working with these two cuties!

 ·        Plot out the Main Series. Need to give more serious thought to this. I think I know about where it ends, so at least I have a goal to shoot for….

Stardust, the silver Water-dragoness,
who hoards books instead of shinies. ;-)

·         Organize/finalize other series/story-arcs, including dramatus personae. I drew up a sort of “timeline” to help me visualize how all the story-arcs connect with the Main Series (and each other in some cases), but I’m still debating on some of the cast. I did bite the bullet and include The Pirate-hunter in Ýdára (since the protagonist and her love interest were essentially the same characters as two others in this world), so now I get to tweak backstories and add pirates to the mix of baddies my Characters have to fight. Um, yay? ;-)

·       Read/re-read snippets from fellow “scribblers” and send feedback. The two shorter ones are DONE, *confetti* and I’m working my way through the largest one…and then I discovered another snippet I’d forgotten about. *D’oh!* So, we make a little progress….

·        Write review for Water Princess, Fire Prince.

Mock Cover by R.R. Goodwill

·       
DONE! Posted on Amazon. And eventually, I need to revamp my mock-cover. This one is blocky at best, and the Kastle is totally wrong.... /SELF-CRITICISM
Host a Blog Party for my Imaginary Worlds.
In progress. Some of my Characters started talking to me, Real Life stuff happened (Whatcha gonna do when the well… needs sanitizin’…honey?), so preparing Party Posts wasn’t a top priority. But I’d still like to do it eventually…I’m thinking sometime in September, so’s I can feature the Pirate-hunter bits on Talk Like a Pirate Day. :-D Annnnnd…since I have several worlds, and they’re all more or less intricate, I may have to break up the Party into several. Or keep what I share about each to a minimum. Cue more pondering….

Sewing and Crafty Goals:

·        SEW ALL THE THINGS!!! Actually…the Lord finally got it through my thick skull that I really don’t *need* any more clothes. He’s provided some very nice “normal” frocks via the local thrift stores, so that takes the pressure off me to sew everything in order to have stuff to wear. It’s so freeing, really, to know my fabrics are packed away in a bin for when I need them—later. I do still intend to make up the embroidered things (including my Rapunzel costume), and there are a few items that won’t take too long to alter for the Summer and Fall. But there’s no huge rush for the rest now. *Ahhhh….*

·        Design/make jewelry to match outfits. In progress. I’m still kinda figuring out my personal style—what I like to look at and design often isn’t what I’m comfortable wearing. Plus a lot of my clothes either don’t need jewelry, or the necklines aren’t conducive to wearing a necklace with them. Then, too, there’s Summertime, when it’s just too hot to have stuff around one’s neck. That’s where my earrings get to come out and play, I guess. So yeah. Still tinkering….

·        Post new Etsy listings regularly. Och, I’ve been a bad girl here. Haven’t posted as often as I intended to so far. Need to get on the ball….

·        Finish knitting and crochet WIPs. Five little bears—DONE. Bearington—DONE. Afghan—In progress. Need 52 of one type of hexagon, 11 Dragon hexagons, and 26 half-hexagons to filling around the edges. Currently have about 45 hexagons made, plus one completed Dragon hexagon (actually two; I just haven’t sewn the Dragon to the patch yet). Six other Dragons made, but a few need tweaking before I make the hexagon part around them. Also need to figure out how to crochet a half-hexagon….

·        Knit some ear-warmers. Haven’t even started on this yet.

·        “Pixie Bonnet” —In  progress. Decided not to buy the knitted “Pixie-hat” pattern when I found this FREE crocheted one late last month. I’m using two colors of yarn worked together, and crocheting gives a better “tweed” texture than knitting, anyhow.

Other Goals:

·        Stay on schedule. Eh…sorta-kinda-almost. I have a loose routine I’m following right now, but it’s not set in writing.

·        Get E-Sword on my computer. *Sigh* Haven’t done this, either. But I am trying to read a chapter a day as possible, so at least I’m not totally neglecting my Spiritual life…quite.

·        Redecorate my room. Sold my fancy furniture the Winter and now have a much simpler, less imposing bed and nightstand, and a big desk (on extended loan from our pastor’s wife) that has a fold-down easel and a light-panel for artwork. Right now, it serves as a computer desk, but I do hope to use it for art eventually, too. Not sure I’ll actually do the tole-painting, since both the desk and nightstand are on loan from other people…and not that much of the bedframe shows anyhow. I may re-finish it, though, as the old finish is kinda messed up. Not even thinking about painting the walls/trim or hanging prisms this year.

·        Exercise more. I try to take a coupe laps around the drive when the weather is good, but that’s about it. And I try to do some stretches in the evenings….

So, not doing as well as I hoped…but then, maybe I bit off more than I can chew. :-P

Until next time, Gentle Readers,

God bless,

~R~