Libby Says...
NOTE: This is a continuation of the "Web Of Deception" round-robin story. If you're late to the party, please start with Chapter 1 on Ben's site and go from there. You can also follow the RSS feed hosted at http://www.andthentheboilerburst.com/WebOfDeception.rss. After dinner that night, Callie examined Mike’s leg again. He had calmed down from the afternoon's excitement, and didn't seem to think much of Callie's story about the strange little man in the garden. She wasn't sure whether to be pleased or upset that he dismissed even Dufay's sneaking down the driveway. On the one hand, it meant Mike wouldn't get in her way – he was just as enamored and blind as he'd been from the start. On the other hand, it might've been nice to have some help for a change. Still, he'd been getting progressively cranky all afternoon and when she put her hand on his leg she understood why – his leg was burning with fever. What had seemed like mere scratches that afternoon were deeper than they had looked at first and the wounds had not closed at all, but were still oozing slightly. She shook her head, worried and wondering, fingering the piece of black wool that she still had in her pocket. "Callie, it really hurts," Mike muttered. "Do you think we should go to a doctor after all?" "Well, if we can find one who can help, maybe we should," Callie replied, washing his leg with witch hazel. She was thinking quickly now and wondering how to try something without completely freaking Mike out. "Why don't you let me finish bandaging this and I'll go to the pharmacy to see if that strange Mr. Dufay can recommend a clinic nearby. You just rest here, drink your beer, and read your book, er, Schmoops." As she spoke, she turned slightly away from Mike's gaze and pulled the wool scrap from her pocket. Reaching down to pat him reassuringly on the leg with one hand, she let the wool fall onto his leg with the other, leaning forward to kiss him and block it from his view. "Well, that sounds ok – although maybe you should ask him what he was doing in the yard and running off like that. You're no just trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me, are you?" he teased in reply, pulling her down to deepen the kiss. "You're sure you can find the way on your own?" "There's not enough beer in the house get you inebriated, my wee laddie," Callie laughed back at him, lapsing in the soft burr she spoke with when she wasn't paying attention. She frowned at the piece of wool, which had looked fragile and had now shriveled even smaller, and lightened in color, turning grey while she watched. Smiling grimly at the one, tiny healed spot on his leg, she nonchalantly scooped the wool up with one hand, kissed Mike again, and promised to bring him another pint before she left. "I just have to find a few things from one of my boxes, first, and I'll make sure you're doing alright before I go." She pulled her black sweater out of a box in the back bedroom, and, looking furtively around, although she knew Mike was still on the sofa, she also pulled out a blue velvet pouch, and sniffed to make sure its contents were still fresh enough. "They'll do, if they must," she grumbled to herself, "but I really have to get a garden started here soon. I got out of that city just in time." Pocketing the pouch and slipping the sweater into her knitted bag, she picked up her keys and dropped a fresh pint off next to her sleeping husband. "Oh, aye, you'll sleep for a wee while, then, won't you? The healing will do that, and just as well; you won't worry if I'm gone for a while." Quietly, Callie slipped out of the house and, grateful that the recent equinox meant that the days were long enough that it was still light out, walked down the path toward town. Slipping her sweater on and keeping one hand in her pocket, she whistled a peculiar tune and, although she appeared to be paying no attention to her surroundings, listened intently for noise in the brush. "I know you're out there, grimalkin," Callie whispered to herself. "Of course I'm out here." The cat was riding the woman's shoulders, looking for all the world like a very old, very filthy, witches' familiar. "But knowing how to call me doesn't change anything. For you or that bloody fool fence post you live with." "Are you sure of that, then?" Startled, JC thought fiercely to himself, "Damn certain I'm sure. You smell like them, you sound like them, you look like them. I don't trust you. You can't be her and you can't help. You'll only be in the way." What he said was: "He won't heal." Then he started to jump off her shoulder. He found his claws stuck in the webbing of the coarse black sweater she wore and started hissing and cursing. "Damn you, you...fae, witch, whatever the hell you are... I..." "Not so fast, grimalkin." Callie almost purred at the snarling cat who was hissing and spitting, back raised with the instinctive anger of a cat, although she guessed he'd prefer to be yelling at her in his own form. "I won't hurt you now, grimalkin, unless you make me." "What do you mean 'now'? And stop calling me grimalkin. You called me, I'm here. My name's JC; not grimalkin. I'm warning you, stop arseing around with me before I get really mad." "Well, now that you've told me your name, why don't you tell me why you attacked Mike, and why you're here – with all those others." Silence, and then more hissing came from her shoulder. She fingered the now fragile piece of wool. "Perhaps you'll also tell me why that fool Dufay is providing Web to that little... what is he anyway? And why in Mab's name are you going around as a cat?" "Hrmph. Say 'in Loki's name' instead and you'll be closer to the mark. Bastard was trying to help Freya – she needed a new cat to pull her coach after one had an accident. I suspect Loki caused the accident and was trying to cover it up, but either way, I'd been a bleeding idiot and trusted him after...well, never mind. So, here I am. Stuck working for them. Of course, you could tell me how you managed to even smell different." The cat grumped a bit, hissed, and tried again to either claw her or retract his claws. Sniffing, JC said, "I know you've got some." "I do. Can you handle it?" Suddenly standing straighter, she said quietly, "Someone else is out there, but I can't tell who. Can you?" There was no noise from woods – not even birdsong or the sound of the brook – as she sniffed the air, continuing to walk toward town. "Hm. If you'd let me free I could go check, you know. I guess it is a bit too silent, but it's not Dufay; he said he was going to –." The cat broke off, moaning and growling low in its throat. "It's her..." A few notes: A grimalkin is a cat - but not a completely normal feline: it's usually old and evil-looking, grey, and associated with demons, witches, or fae. Freya is a Norse goddess, associated with fertility, sensuality, and love, who is often also connected with elves and faeries. She is reputed to drive a carriage that is pulled by two large cats. Loki is a Norse god - most often a shape-shifter who likes to play pranks of varying degrees of cruelty. Permanent Link to this entry: Permanent Link
After finishing the presentation over the weekend, I decided to do some catch-up reading of blogs and twitters and etc. When I happened upon Ben L.'s awesome idea for writing a shared story - round-robin style - with a bunch of friends, well, it sounded like just what I needed to fill all that copious spare time I was going to have after I finish the thesis-y writing. Actually, it's more something to clean my writing palate, if you will -- too much thesis, not enough fun. So, I'm on board with the Web of Deception crew -- illustrious folks (so far, the list includes: Duffbert, Julian, jonvon, Francie, Gabriella, Wild Bill, Andre Guirard, Steve McDonagh and Rob McDonagh, and Jess, Ben wrote the first chapter and tagged Julian for the second - let's see what Julian makes of the somewhat spooky first chapter and the need to include the word "equinox" in the second. Fun! Permanent Link to this entry: Permanent Link
Well, I'm more than halfway there now. I gave my capstone - a capstone is our program's version of a thesis - presentation on Saturday. I spoke about my project, my conclusions, and my primary sources for an hour, with fifteen minutes or so of questions. In some ways, it was easy - after all, I'm used to public speaking, right? On the other hand, it was higher stakes than much of my speaking. Still, everyone told me I knocked it out of the park, including my adviser. Now all that's left is to do some rewrites and finish writing a few sections of the paper. While there's still a fair amount of work to complete, I'm feeling so much better and less stressed now that the BIG deadline is done. Ahhhhhhhhh. Perhaps now you'll actually see some writing here from me as I finish one chapter and look for what the next chapter will hold. Permanent Link to this entry: Permanent Link
Rob had a great post the other day about his perfect employer and job. It's been on my mind a lot of late, as I try to decide what's next for me. I remember one time, oh about 12 years ago, I had a long talk with my then-roommate Julie about perfect job, working conditions, etc. It's amazing how different my thoughts are now. I suspect this is a work in progress. I know enough to know that I don't have a perfect job. There are many jobs and career paths that could work for me and at which I think I could be successful. But I know some of the things I need and some of the things i can't accept. Let's see... in no particular order...
In return, I will be where you need me to be, when you need me to be there. I will be a team player and as much of a leader as you give me the chance to be. I will be diligent and meticulous. I will use all that great brain power I've got to do what you ask me to do or what I see needs to be done. I will ask questions and be thoughtful and work as though all the profits were going in my pocket. I will be the best representative of your company that I know how to be. if the door is open, I will come to you if something upsets me. I will try to resolve it. I will learn. I will think. I'm sure there are more, but if I keep writing this, I'm not writing my thesis. Off I go. Permanent Link to this entry: Permanent Link
I'm so not supposed to be doing this. Blogging that is. At least not right now. All my focus is supposed to be going to writing the thesis. Ah well. I'm sitting in the kitchen, with the window barely cracked open behind me, but I can feel the temperature dropping as it's been doing since mid-afternoon. It's probably 45 degrees at most now, and it was probably 70 this afternoon. In a bit, I'll likely move into the living room to curl up by the fire to keep writing. There's a lot going on right now. Personal stuff, career stuff, school stuff, health stuff. Trying to do my best to keep my focus on the paper for a few more weeks and really get it done and off my plate so I can pay attention to all that other stuff. One thing did catch my attention in today's email, however. There's a AAA article entitled "Midair manners" about how to behave on planes. It mentions, among other things: Easy Does It I can't tell you how many times my laptop screen has been endangered or my bottle of water knocked off the table by a person reclining too far, too fast, with no consideration for the fact that someone was sitting behind them. Other pet peeves of mine include the people who fall asleep and end up sleeping on your shoulder, people who don't know the current rules of the security lines, and so don't have their tickets or IDs ready, or who leave their shoes on and slow the process to glacial speeds, and people who don't pay attention - to where they're walking or standing, to their kids, to their purses and bags that are slamming into the people near them, or to the basic rules of common courtesy. I know we have to spend a lot of time when we travel and I know that airports are full of indignities, but we aren't in your house or your bedroom and don't want to see, hear, or smell any of those things that should be kept behind closed doors. Hm. Guess I've got a few opinions. What are yours? Have any airplane/airport pet peeves? Permanent Link to this entry: Permanent Link
In an effort to be less exhausted all the time, I went out for a run this morning. It was very short, and at least half walk, as I continue to recover from the evil flu, but it did give me some energy (which I am now about to put wholeheartedly into the thesis that has to be done in 2 weeks). It also gave me the opportunity to do a little thinking and a little observing - and appreciating. We'll start with the observing. I know that in the past I've bad-mouthed and complained about Texas on more than one occasion. This morning's run through the neighborhood reminded me that spring in Texas can be quite lovely. The azaleas of pink, white, purple, rose, and red were huge and overflowing - covering the street with color. Planters and bed were bubbling with brightly colored cyclamen, impatiens, and pansies, just brought home from the nursery. Two magnificent magnolias stood stately and purple (the early magnolias are purple and white, the bigger ones with the huge green leaves are a cream color, and bloom later). Purple fuzz covered the limbs of the not-aptly named red buds. At my own house and a few others, the over-enthusiastic hibiscus and lantana bloomed yellow, pink, red, and purple - they don't care what month or season it is. A few houses, where I suspected transplanted Yankees like me live, had flowers that are more-traditional to spring in the northern climes - daffodils, alyssum, iris. The streets, cars, and sidewalks are covered with the yellow dust from the few oaks that lose their leaves and are now covered with the fuzzy pollen producers. The greening lawns contrast with the brown leaves of those trees that held on all winter and are just now dropping their last leaves. With a lovely 72 or so degrees, not so much humidity (for Houston, anyway), and plenty of sun, it felt like spring. Once it feels like spring, though, that reminds me that spring always seems to mean changes. New growth, getting rid of the things that don't work. Looking for things to be hopeful and excited and enthusiastic about. I'll say that I expect all of this to be on my horizon, although at the moment I have to turn back to the thesis and focus - I'll put all my enthusiasm there for the moment. Enthusiasm used grows instead of dissipates, right? We voted early this week and were pleased to see the long lines, even as the polls were getting ready to close. A teacher at my school even organized a bus ride for all the juniors and seniors who were old enough, wanted to vote, and had no other way to get to the polling place. The election process offers another change about which to be hopeful. Permanent Link to this entry: Permanent Link |
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