Short Story Saturday

Angus' eyes widened in horror when the coach he was riding in started going at a speed no horse back at home could even dream of going. Gripping the cushions around him, he stared in fascination at the world that was going past his eyes through the windows around him. He yelped in surprise when the window in front of him started moving downward, revealing the smiling face of a woman.
"There is Guinness in the wet bar, as you usually request, Angus. Would you like me to stop somewhere so you can get a bite to eat?"
"Er, well. Em, is there a place where you can find me a Haggis?" he answered, still petrified at the speed they were going, and somehow sure that this woman had something to do with it.
"Haggis? Disgusting. You have been in Scotland too long, this trip. I was thinking of something more along the lines of In n Out burger"
"Burger?" parroted back Angus, unsure of what she meant.
"Good choice" said Daryl, closing the window back up between them. Angus, still in shock. leaned back into the seat, and awaited his next adventure.
Soon, a paper bag was handed back to him through the window. "I took the liberty of ordering your usual" said Daryl. "We will be back at your place, shortly".
"Good" he said, his mouth already full of the french fries that had been on the top of the bag". "How are these made?" he asked her, licking his fingers.
"They are french fries, Angus. So they are deep fried. You know that. Are you sure I should not take you to your doctor?"
"Nay. No doctor, just home. Please."
"Well, alright. But eat your burger" she instructed, doubtfully.
He did eat his burger, and all the fries. He thought they were heaven. However, he did not care for the sweet, sticky drink that came in the large, garish cup. Instead, he opened one of the bottles of Guinness Daryl had indicated were in the "mini bar". He rather enjoyed that beverage. Before long, they were pulling up in front of a large building, and Daryl was opening the door for him.
"There you go, home, sweet home" she said, and gave him a gentle push in the direction of the door. Before he could open it, it flew open and two little red headed freckled boys ran out the door to him
"Dad! Dad! You're home! Did you bring us anything?"
Angus did what any grown man would do at this point. He fainted.
**********************************************************************
Blearily blinking to refocus his eyes, Angus was happy to see trees over his head. Until a strange, yet beautiful woman leaned into his view.
"Angus, honey? are you alright?" she asked concern shining in her brown eyes. He noted her dark red hair, and easy smile. A name slowly came into his head. "Rhoslyn, right?" he asked her
"Of course, silly. Rhoslyn. Your wife".
"My wife". The thought echoed through his head, and he very nearly passed out again. Taking a few deep breaths, he regained his feet, only to have the two boys attach themselves to his legs. "Geordie, and Liam" he thought to himself. "My sons". Walking with them towards the house, he did his best to smile and laugh as different memories assaulted him at every moment. "Missy" the dog, "there is the tree we planted last year" "over there is where we buried the goldfish when the boys were 2". As he tried to hold onto the memories of home, of Scotland, the fresh trees, the highlands, he felt it, slipping away.... slowly replaced by the world that surrounded him.
By the time he got to the door, he had forgotten completely.
And somewhere, in the wilds of Scotland, a wolf howled mournfully, and a door, in an inn, glowed for a moment, then disappeared....

Friday Mieography

Agatha Mary Clarissa Miller was born in Devon, UK, daughter of a rich american stockbroker, and his British wife. She had 2 siblings, Monty and Madge. Her father died when she was eleven years old. She never claimed her U.S. citizenship through him.
Her mother educated her at home, encouraging her to write at a young age. When she was sixteen, she was sent to finishing school in Paris, to study singing, and the piano.
She was married, unhappily, in 1914 to Colonel Archibald Christie, and aviator in the Royal Flying Corps. They had one daughter. Agatha discovered her flyboy husband was having an affair, and they divorced. Her first book was published during her marriage.
During WW I she worked in a hospital, and in a pharmacy, both jobs influencing her writing. She often carried out her book murders with poison.
In 1926, Agatha dissapeared for eleven days, causing great alarm, especially as her car was found in a chalk pit. She was later found in a hotel, under the name of "Teresa Neele". She had a 'natural propensity' for depression, exacerbated, they report, by her mother's death and her husbands infidelity. (She had just learned of his affair. His mistress' last name? Neele). There is speculation about this 'breakdown'. Some to this day think it was merely a publicity stunt. Others speculate she was trying to make people believe her husband killed her, to get him back for his infidelity.
In 1930, she married an archaeologist by the name of Sir Max Mallowan. He was 14 years younger than her, and a Roman Catholic. (She was Anglican). They had a happy marriage, early on, and later, she tolerated his many affairs. He married one of his mistresses the year after she died.
The couple traveled extensively, giving her fodder for several novels, especially her Middle Eastern themed ones.
In 1971, she was made a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire. She died of natural causes in 1976, at the age of 85. She wrote 67 full books, and published 160 short stories in her career. She also wrote numerous plays, and radio plays. And many, many many of her books have been made to movies....

Could be fun...

My oldest sister was telling me about something they have at her hospital now.
And I have serious envy over it.
No, this isn't a work related blog.

That something is a concierge. For nurses. At their hospital.
This person will actually go run errands for them. Pick up groceries. Dry cleaning. Arrange things for them, as needed. Need gas, didn't have time to stop for it?
Go ask the concierge.
Husband complaining because your out of his favorite coffee? Send out the concierge.
FROM WORK.
Of course, this option only open during the day time. (The night shift hospital workers frequently get the shaft).

Where I would actually like to have one of these, is here. At home.
I wouldn't even need one every day. Just, maybe, 2 or 3 days a week....
We have plenty of work for one of those.
For instance.
Last night, our concierge could have gone and picked up some car parts for us, so we could have enjoyed a leisurely dinner. On his way, he could have taken MG to her hair appointment.
The concierge could take miscreant puppies out for LONG WALKS.
He or she could go, and get puppy food, cat food, and any other grocery we needed.
The concierge could have, at my insistence, put up my new closet rod, so that a tired MM didn't have to do it at almost 10 o' Clock last night. (after a hasty dinner, car parts, and hair being done).

But, as much fun as it might sound, it would probably get old, after awhile.
So we will just have to continue being our own (and each others) concierge.
Besides. The pay is probably better. :)

Wordless Wednesday-Tiki style

tiki toilet- this is the lovely porta potty arranged for by THE Camikaos....

mie cup, the tiki drink I could not finish. :(

the blogfather, and Holls

tiki tiki tiki

Flintstones, meet the Flintstones

It's pretty well known that MM and I are both Jeep drivers. His other vehicle is a truck. A truck tall enough that I need a milk crate to crawl up in it.
Yesterday, for the first time in probably 8 years, I drove a car.
A 1993 Honda Accord. With a bag of rocks to hold the trunk shut. (crunched back end).
A car we got cheap, because it gets good gas mileage. A car we call "The Hoopty".
I felt so short! So low to the ground! I was feeling like I could shove my feet through the floorboards and run to start it.
I was taking MG's friend, Irish, home, and another thing I had forgotten is that the usual route to take her home, the shorter route, is down this raucous dirt road. A dirt road we go down frequently, (in our Jeeps, that is). It was an interesting ride in this low to the ground Hoopty.
I used to drive "regular" cars. That's all I had really ever driven. I've had a Ford Escort, a Volvo, this ugly grey mini station wagon, and my personal favorite, a looooooong wiiiiiiiiiide YELLOW Ford LTD, circa 1976. I could fit so many people in that car. And it rode so smooth.
But I've gotten so used to being "taller" now in my vehicles. My car before the Jeep was also an SUV, a Saturn VUE. I like the view from "up there". I am used to getting "up" in my car, now. Not lowering myself into it.
I'm spoiled....
I love my Jeep.
BUT. truthfully? The Hoopty was kind of fun to drive...

Bad Egg

Alrighty
So here
is the story.
We all realize was going to Portland, Friday. Right. Right?
Flight wasn't leaving until 6:55 pm. Plenty of time for Mustang Girl's freshman orientation at the high school. MM and I got up, and took her over there. I was experiencing a few SNAFU's early in the day. But not a whole lot of them.
Until breakfast.
We went to one of our favorite places, a place most of the town frequents on a very regular basis. THE place for breakfast. They have a daily special, eggs, sausage, hashbrowns, pancakes. The usual. I went for that. Breakfast came fast, and hot. I was hungry, I ate. Most of it. Except, the eggs. They just didn't taste "right" to me, somehow. So I left probably about half.
2 hours later, I sure as hell realized why. I was, to put it nicely, worshiping the porcelain princess.
A LOT.
People of blogland, I have not felt worse in a freaking LONG TIME.
So there I was puking up my toenails, sicker than a dog, and mad as a hatter. We'd paid for our flight, and hotel room. WE WERE GOING.
But, I new I was going to have to give up something. And, that is why I was not at the Kaos household Friday night for our pre arranged taping of Strange Love. By the time we'd gotten to PDX I was just DONE. I'd had the foresight to call Cami and beg off that afternoon.
I was feeling run down when we got to the hotel, but cheered to see the sight of my Gran, and my Uncle B. I sat and didn't eat my dinner (just could not get much down) and bantered back and forth with the uncle.
The next day was better. Kind of.
Still wasn't really going at full steam, I actually TRIED to drink a tiki drink, but after a few hours of sipping and nursing it through I gave in and switched to water. (I did manage a Gin Zing later, however...). But the tiki was nice. In addition to my Gran, and my uncle, my Aunt S, and her 2 daughters came as well. And of course Nana Kaos was there. MM and MG got to meet them all for the first time. It was really nice.
I also met the lovely Miss Burrows, and her handsome husband, who seemed to be everywhere, helping out.
For those of you that were there that I didn't meet, I must apologize. I was not feeling myself, and was just not up to seeking people out and trying to make conversation. I stuck mainly with family, who realized that I was incapacitated.
Post cards, though.
They did get written.
We were not intoxicated. But I was cautiously sipping my Gin Zing as we wrote.
They are not as funny as last years.
But you'll get them....

Oh and wordless wednesday will boast a few tiki oriented pictures....

Friday Mieography

This story has interested me for a long time.

This is Liza Dalby. She is an American Anthropologist, and novelist. She specializes in Japanese culture. She wrote a dissertation on "The Institution of the Geisha in Modern Japanese Society.
She is also the ONLY non japanese woman to ever be a geisha.
She first went to Japan when she was a teenager, living for a year with a family on the island of Kyushu. She was the first, and only foreign student at Saga University. She knew only the barest bones of Japanese when she got there, and found the first few months fairly difficult. While she was there, she heard the sound of a Japanese instrument, the Shamisen, for the first time. She loved it, and her host family arranged for her to receive lessons.
When she returned from Japan, she enrolled at Swathmore college, in the field of Cultural Anthropology. She went back to Japan for her junior year, this time to Tokyo. After finishing at Swathmore, she continued on to graduate school at Stanford University. This is when she decided to do her dissertation on the Geisha.
Working hard, she earned the trust of the Geisha, and they wished her to represent them properly to the western countries. They wanted her to have a firm understanding of their world, so they encouraged her to borrow appropriate kimono, and take her shamisen to the teahouses with them. She even had a "big sister", Ichiume. She was known as Ichigiku. She spent much time as a novice geisha, doing her research, but was never "formally" given the title.
She received a Ph.D from Stanford, in 1978, and took a teaching position at the University of Chicago. She married a fellow professor, Michael Dalby. During this time, she wrote a book called "Geisha". She followed that one up with a book called Kimono- Fashoning Culture. And in 2000, she put out her third book, The Tale of Murasaki.
She was also a consultant to Rob Marshall for the film, "Memoirs of a Geisha".