What can I say? I can relate to this in many ways, both as a former journalist and as a blogger . . . and I totally agree. Thank you, Dawn Porter, for telling it like it is.

Beachy thoughts–and Thorin

Orange Beach, Alabama

Tonight I have been thinking of the beach. I’d love to be there right now, except NOT right now. That is, not in the summer’s heat and humidity, feeling as if a wet blanket has been tossed over my head. Not with the crowds and crush and noise of summer.

No, what I would like is to somehow time travel a bit and be down at lovely Orange Beach during the spring or later in the fall. To be there when the temperature is on the milder side and there’s a wonderful light, cooling breeze often sweeping in from the Gulf.

I’d like to be able to take a late walk on the beach, when the sun is beginning to set and send vivid streaks of color across the wide sky.

 I’d squish my bare toes in the wet sugar-white sand as the tide rolls in and listen to the gentle rush of the surf, and look for shells, and enjoy the peace and serenity of it all.

I can’t experience that first-hand right now, I can only imagine it. But I can send Thorin there . . . sort of.  Although he’d likely be more comfy in a pair of jams and flip-flops than his typical attire. 😉  I do think he could use some of my Wonder Waves spray for great beachy hair.  😀

In case you haven’t noticed . . .

Reflections on a diva named Puddie

Some of you who have read my fanfics Dangerous to Know and Lost & Found are familiar with my cat, Puddin’ aka Puddie. She became a very important supporting character in those stories–a long-haired tabby of ample proportions and a lot of  “catittude.”  She gained her own little fan club, and she adored every minute of it.  A diva in fur, indeed.

Puddie’s health has been in decline in recent months.  She’s been losing weight steadily.  The cats all tend to lose a little weight in the hot weather, especially since our central air went out,  but nothing like this.

We’ve given her special nutritional supplements and bought the “good” cat food in hopes of tempting her. She still enjoys her canned food, but seems interested in little else anymore.  Slowly but surely she seems to be fading away before our eyes.

Tonight I picked her up and she felt like little more than fur, skin and bones.

And tonight, I finally asked what I just could not put into words before now. “She’s dying, isn’t she, Benny?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said softly, with kindness in his dear blue eyes, and gave me a hug. I commenced crying all over the poor cat, which hardly made her feel better.  Sometimes, you just can’t help it.

She proceeded to go over and eat a little canned food when I put her down, as if to say, “Hmmmmph. I am NOT done yet.”

We can’t remember just how old Puddie is.  She was a mostly wild kitten when we first encountered her on the back porch of my parents’ farmhouse–I don’t know, 15 or 16 years ago?  Slowly, we gained the orphaned kitten’s trust and ultimately her love.

She was a bit funny-looking early on. For a long time one eye was slightly larger than the other and her ears were so big we called her “Bat Cat.” She grew into her looks, however, and become a beautiful cat with the most delicious purr. Like that of a big V-8 engine–smoooooth.  Dare I say, a Richard Armitage sort of purr, were he a cat.

None of us can live forever, and our pets have far less time on earth than we do.  Goodness knows I have loved and lost so many animals in my lifetime, from accident and injury, illness, old age and even through the malice of others. Still, I don’t regret a moment of it.

I don’t know how much longer we will have her with us. Puddie isn’t in pain and this give me some comfort.  And I know she has already gained a sort of immortality.  In her own way, my big, beautiful, grumpy, funny, proud cat will be SND, too. And live on with the lads and Ladywriter in Sloth Fiction Land . . .

Puddie, in better days

So–is it December yet?

Well, unless you’re an RA fan who has been living under a rock somewhere, you surely know the two will become three–as in the two Hobbit movies will now become a trilogy, with the third installment due out the summer of 2014.  Additional shooting is planned for next summer.

We don’t yet know what this  means in terms of Thorin–how much of the character we will get in each installment, whether or not more of his backstory will be explored, et al. Right now, however, I’d just like to see more of him. On the big screen and in 3D.  *sigh*

So, tell me–is it December yet?

 

 

 

 

It is only love which sets us free

Love is risky. It makes us vulnerable, and that can be scary. Love can open us to the possibility of rejection, disappointment, loss, to heartache and heartbreak.

And yet, what is life without love? Love for our soul mates, family, friends, pets. Love enriches and inspires.  It liberates.  It teaches. Love makes us fully human. It can cost us everything. But without it, we are nothing.

Touched by An Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage, exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple

 and comes into our sight to liberate us into life.

Love arrives and in its train come ecstasies,

old memories of pleasure, ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity,

In the flush of love’s light we dare be brave

And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be.

Yet it is only love which sets us free.

~Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

RIP, Maeve

I always thought Maeve looked like a lady I’d enjoy sitting down with for a cup of coffee or tea and nice chat.

Maeve Binchy passed away today at 72. Binchy was a bestselling author from Ireland. Before she became a short story author and novelist, she was a teacher and later, a journalist and columnist. I could relate to her personal history and I enjoyed her writing, which combined humor with poignancy and humanity.  Her first novel, Light a Penny Candle, was rejected five ties before it was published.  When it was published, it became a bestseller and her books went on to sell more than 40 million copies worldwide.

And she just looked like a sweetheart.

Rest in peace, Maeve. You were an all together grand storyteller and you’ll be missed.

Hallelujah I just love him so . . .

Tonight I feel the need for some sweet, sunny, funny, dear Harry Kennedy. How ’bout y’all?

 

On Dwarfs & Knights I love

I ended up having one of those nights, as in “couldn’t get to sleep to save my life.”  I finally dozed off sometime after dawn and slept a few hours. It’s now 4:07 p.m. here and I still don’t feel “all awake yet.” Hasn’t been a terribly productive day in some ways–watching the Olympics, reading through email and doing a bit of Tweeting.

However, Sebastian (aka Gisbornesboy) and I have been discussing possible collaborative efforts. More on that later. 😉  Don’t want to give TOO much away . . .

 When I couldn’t sleep, I ended up finishing my re-read of The Hobbit. It had been quite a while; I can certainly see why Richard felt the need to further flesh out his vision of Thorin and the character’s motivations beyond what Tolkien gives us in the story.

The Company of Dwarves from left to right: Nori, Fili, Dori, Bofur, Gloin, Dwalin, Thorin, Balin, Oin, Bombur, Bifur, Ori and Kili. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We know from the book Thorin likes to talk in a rather verbose, grandiose style, that he wants revenge on those who took his birthright away; that he is proud, regal, can be hot-tempered and display definite dwarfish greed at times, yet proves in the end to truly be a brave warrior and true hero.

Other than the grandiose speaking style, I could not help but envision a certain dark knight I know and love.  A proud man with a regal bearing? Yup. Temperamental?  Check. Desiring revenge? Oh yeah. Hungry for wealth and power? Right in one. Ultimately proven to be a brave warrior and redeemed man and hero? Indeed.

We’ve already seen some Guy-like roars from Thorin in some of the footage from the video blogs. Of course, Porter also roared well–and was also a brave warrior and true hero (and he is also SND!!).

 I wonder–will we get any of those disdainful GoG sniffs or tossing back of that (yes, Guy, I am saying this) even MORE magnificent mane? Really, I wouldn’t mind. Just a little.

  I know, of course, that Richard Armitage has crafted a new character out of whole cloth and he will BE Thorin, just as he was Guy, Porter, Lucas, Thornton, et al., a character inspired by Greek tragedy and Shakespearean drama as well as Tolkien. Of course, Thorin also has a couple hundred years or so of maturity on dear Sir Guy (check out those distinguished grey streaks).  Sigh.  Can’t hardly wait . . .

A little romance courtesy of John & Margaret

Just some pretty images of Mr. Thornton & Margaret for Sunday (or late Saturday, depending on where you are, my international posse).  I’m not feeling my best–cranky knee, dermatitis flared up, bit of tummy trouble–so don’t know that I will be posting a lot tomorrow.  We’ll see. Hoping to get some more writing done and finish re-reading The Hobbit. Happy Sunday to everyone!

Comic-Con, Captain Jack & RA

John Barrowman is a guest on BBCA‘s latest Nerdist special on tonight, which focuses on Comic-Con. John, of course, is most famous in the Nerdist Universe as Captain Jack Harkness on Doctor Who and Torchwood.  John’s almost too pretty for my tastes (he’s like a better-looking version of American politician John Edwards) but he’s a charming and talented guy and seems very, very down to earth and devoted to his partner, who’s a pretty handsome fellow himself.   John, who was born in Scotland, grew up in the States and later returned to Scotland, also has dual accents: he can sound like both a Scot and a Yank.

Jack Harkness (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He’s attended five or six Comic-Cons now and said  some things I really liked in reference to such events and fans and actors.

John spoke of how much he enjoyed CC because it gave him a chance to interact with fans and to let them know how much they meant to him as a performer”because let’s face it, without the fans, we wouldn’t be where we are.” As for disdainful actors who become too cool for such events, John said this: “Get over yourselves.”

I don’t think Richard Armitage, who is a self-professed geek of sorts, will ever think himself to be too cool for Comic-Con, either. He may be a tad embarrassed about the action figures and such, but I think he will always appreciate his fans and value their support. And I bet at next year’s Comic-Con, there will be even more of said fans there to scream his name at The Hobbit panel and line up for autographs–assuming he’s not tied up elsewhere. He is gonna be in demand . . .

Richard. Cheeky, Sweet, Silly, Lovely.

We all know Mr. A is great at being angsty, broody, moody and sometimes downright mean on screen. And we’re not saying he hasn’t got elements of a darker side in him–don’t we all? But we also have all seen the light-hearted, good-natured Richard with a lovely, cheeky sense of humor, too. Sometimes, RA, you are just adoRAble.

 

 

 

 

 

Sorry, Mr. Bond. Nobody does it better than Lucas (and RA)

Like everyone else, I found the Bond/Queen Elizabeth scene filmed for last night’s Olympic opening ceremonies absolutely delightful. Your Majesty, I love a monarch with a sense of humor and I admire you more than ever.  However, like others I couldn’t help but wish you’d had a different escort, one who is even more attractive in a tuxedo than your Mr. Bond.

He’s in Your Majesty’s Secret Service, too, and dedicated to Queen and Country (don’t believe all that John Bateman hooey).  He’s clever, resourceful, he’s quick on his feet, and, oh yes–bloody gorgeous.

And frankly, nobody does it better.

And if you need any more proof to his desirability as an escort, well, here goes . . . and this one might make you want to put on your boogie shoes, ma’am.

A favorite poem . . . warning, it’s angsty

This is a poem written by one of the most noted American poets of her day, Edna St. Vincent Millay(1892-1950). Millay was not only a Pulitzer Prize-winning writer of verse, she was also a playwright and a feminist. Having read her biography, I can also say she had a pretty fascinating, if rather tumultuous, life.

Photograph of Edna St. Vincent Millay (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I think of the old saying about time healing all wounds, and I know it’s simply not true. Some wounds, losses, pains stay with us forever.  They may diminish to some degree, plague us less; the scar tissue forms on our pysche and the raw ugliness is mercifully relieved. But they never quite heal completely.

I also find myself thinking of Sir Guy and how he suffered over Marian’s death. I’ll never believe he did it in less than a moment of  sheer temporary madness. A horrifying moment when all his dreams, hopes and plans died before his very eyes . . . he lived on with the guilt and regret, shame and pain.  But I think a part of him died before that fateful encounter with Vasey and Isabella in the castle. Part of him died with Marian in the desert that day.  And that’s something for which I can never quite forgive Marian, as blinded as she was by her loyalty to King Richard and manipulated by Robin.   Thank goodness our Sir Guy ultimately found redemption!

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Here Is A Wound That Never Will Heal, I Know

Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,

Being wrought not of a dearness and a death,

But of a love turned ashes and the breath

Gone out of beauty; never again will grow

 The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow

Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath

 Its friendly weathers down, far Underneath

Shall be such bitterness of an old woe.

That April should be shattered by a gust,

That August should be levelled by a rain,

I can endure,

and that the lifted dust

Of man should settle to the earth again;

But that a dream can die, will be a thrust

Between my ribs forever of hot pain.

Guyday Friday: Sir Guy in Song

Everybody’s got a hungry heart . . .

Nothin’ you can say will ever turn me away from my Guy . . .

Com’n, hit with your best shot, fire away . . .

I’ve never wanted, I’ve never wanted to touch a man . . . the way that I want to touch you . . .

Strut, pout, put it out . . .

Unforgettable, that’s what you are . . .

Of course, you must sing snatches of each song while you ogle study the pretty pictures . . .