The Queen's Domain

A Remembrance of Anne McCaffrey

2011-11-24T11:09:00.000-05:00

“Harper, your song has a sorrowful sound,
Though the tune was written as gay.
Your voice is sad and your hands are slow
And your eye meeting mine turns away.”
― Anne McCaffrey, Dragonsong

Perhaps it's appropriate to write this today, on Thanksgiving, as it is my thanks I wish to convey to Anne McCaffrey for all she did as an author.

I was handed the Dragonriders of Pern trilogy as a 10 yr. old by a friend at school. I read it backwards--starting with The White Dragon. While I adored Ruth, it wasn't until I met Lessa again for the first time in Dragonflight, that I truly fell in love with Ms. McCaffrey's writing.

Yes, Jaxom overcame the challenges of not only being born as the Lord of Ruatha, but also answered the calling of dragonrider as well. He and his dragon saved Pern.

But Lessa...she was something altogether different that a headstrong girl growing up in the 70's connected with. Tiny and powerful. Arrogant. Smart. Able to love, be loved and be more than what you might expect when you first meet her. It would not be this woman's great beauty or connections that turned her into one of the great political powers on her planet, but the sheer force of being "Lessa."

It was McCaffrey's ability to script characters who defied convention and expectations that had me plunking down my allowance for each new release, and into my adulthood, for first editions. And hunting back piles of bookstores for forgotten titles. I was first a Pern fan, but as time permitted my library to expand, I realized I was just plain an Anne fan.

As readers, we often select a favorite tale. But I can't. A favorite character? Still not possible.

While lost in the worlds of McCaffrey, I rode horses, met war veterans with PTSD, flew with the dragons, became a ship, sang arias to crystal laden valleys--heard and saw the universe in both the best and worst lights. I came to understand what a gifted storyteller could do.

It truly will always be one of my regrets that I never got to a convention to shake Anne's hand in person. There were a couple letters exchanged, internet forum discussions, some bookplates autographed....but it's not the signature I cherish. It was the generous nature, the insight into humankind and willingness to share that view with us that shall always be the greatest gift I could ever receive from an author.

Ms. McCaffrey--thank you. For being you and having the strength to follow your own dreams, such that many more could find theirs. I shall ever be in your debt.

______________________

Anne McCaffrey April 1, 1926--November 21, 2011

Find all her books here

Hey! I did it...

2011-09-23T22:22:00.000-04:00

Sometimes there are good days. This was a good day.

Occasionally you set yourself goals. Some are short term, like getting all the laundry done today. Others are more long term, like learning a new task. And some are more grandiose--meeting that one person who has really brought some joy to your life over almost 20 years.

For the past few years I've enjoyed watching Gordon Ramsey's Hell's Kitchen. I suppose I truly enjoy this reality show because we are talking about real talent, not just who can out-last or whatever. And it seems that one of the perennial dishes on Ramsey's menu tends to be Beef or Lamb Wellington.

Due to a certain amount of curiosity--having heard of this dish on and off throughout life--I looked up the recipe and determined this is one of those things I should endeavor to make. Afterall, you cannot possibly screw up beef tenderloin, can you?

I did it! It came out of the oven even looking like recipe pictures, and it was pronounced a good thing by my husband :D Personally, not being a fan of mustard, I think I'd tweak it in the future, if I ever decide to take two days to cook a main dish again. I might cook it on a broiling pan, too, as the drippings made the bottom pastry soggy. Or was that because the pastry wasn't entirely sealed? hrmmm I wonder. I might add that the Wellingtons were created in an RV.

Now, Good Thing Number 2.

While the whole day at the track was pretty damn good (my husband earned Cold Passes through supporting the Best Buy Racing program at work) one moment stands out for me above all.

We were wandering through the Sprint Cup garage while the cars went through inspection before qualifying. We spotted John Darby, Mike Helton, some major NASCAR reporters, Regan Smith, AJ Allmendinger, Carl Edwards, T.J. Bell, and a few other faces. I was picking up driver cards from each team hauler. I looked behind me and noticed we were standing in front of the No. 24 Dupont hauler and reached for a Jeff Gordon card. Cool! That made it like 25 cards I could add to the ever growing collection of NASCAR memorabilia. Then we noticed a guy walking backwards shooting photos...of who?

Hey! It was Jeff Gordon! I am no autograph hound, but when fate offers you opportunity, don't pass it up. I called out, "Hi Jeff!" He answered, "Hi." Kept signing a couple other things, but made sure to turn back and reach for his driver card I was holding and sign it before entering his hauler.

My driver. The one I have cheered for since his first Cup appearance waaay back in 1992.

You know, there were piles of tires, engines revving, team members running from one place to another, underfunded teams and the highest paid athletes in all of sports. We had rain, a race and qualifying made all the more entertaining by the fans who have had enough of moisture in New Hampshire this year.

But nothing can dim my enjoyment of that moment of serendipity for me.

So, a dinner that we would have paid much $$ for at a fancy restaurant and an autograph that means quite a lot to me all in one day. Not too bad for day which was supposed to be nothing but rain, rain, rain.

Memories of 09-11 by S.D. Grady

2011-09-08T11:14:00.000-04:00

As the 10th Anniversary of the attacks on America come around, I don't think there are many Americans who are not thinking back on that horrid day. I still struggle to understand what happened. I still shed tears when I think about it...as it remains incomprehensible to me that humans would do this to one another. I offer up a piece I wrote on the 2nd Anniversary for you to think about. I don't know that much more has changed in eight years...

Written September 11, 2003

What happened that day two years ago. We all have our own memories. We were all affected in some way by those terrible events. My life since has continued much as it was before, and that might be a good thing in many ways. I have not been forced to bend in fear to the terrorists; a small victory in the war. But for a few weeks in September 2001, that was not entirely so.

It happened on my way to work. I always listen to the radio in the morning, “Matty in the Morning,” something fun and perky while I stare at the traffic. The DJ came on with an odd announcement. “Apparently a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center in New York. That’s a doozy!”

I thought it a curious announcement. Figuring it must be a small craft, but none the less a newsworthy story, I switched the station to WBZ, the local news radio. From the moment I listened to the first live report in Manhattan, life slowed to a crawl.

I was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic. Realizing that it would take forever to reach my exit a mile away, I turned off on the “emergency” exit I use in such cases. This road twists and turns through grave yards, suburban neighborhoods and inner city slums. The scenery passed by as I listened in stunned silence to the surreal report of a major airliner slamming into the first massive tower. The reports were confused, erratic and unbelievable. And then the second plane came.

I knew it then. This was intentional. This was evil. Fear, anger, impotence and sadness rushed through my body.

Rumors of more planes missing. The Air Force scrambling. Maybe we have to shoot down some of the planes. Targeting the Pentagon, the White House, the Capitol building.

I pulled into the parking lot at the theatre, ran into the lobby and dialed my husband at home. He was still asleep. I heard the answering machine pick up. I yelled at him to answer, hung up and redialed. Again the answering machine. I started babbling at the machine. He picked up.

He turned on CNN and MSNBC and relayed the breaking news. The planes had flown out of Logan Airport in Boston and were supposed to fly to the West Coast. A tiny prickle of irrational fear added up some things. My father often worked at the Pentagon, he often flew out of Logan, he often flew to the West Coast. What if…

I had to know if he was safe. Frenzied phone calls to his home in Maine resulted in busy signals. And more busy signals. I could imagine my mother dialing frantically trying to find him. A moment of clarity offered itself to me. He could be on-line. I broke company regulations and sent an e-mail. Five minutes later he called me. We both cried with relief to know that our family was intact.

Meanwhile, another manager had gone back home to get a TV. He watched and relayed news to the floor as the fourth plane went down in the Pennsylvania fields, as the towers fell, as we all stood and stared. And then across the parking lot we spied a small army of children.

Across our parking lot is an office building. A mere 15 floors, but a “tower” anyway. It houses tech companies, a major phone switching station for the city, a police training school and a not so secret FBI office. And in its basement, a day care.

The tower was emptied in fear and the children had nowhere to go. We opened our doors and brought everyone in. A video tape was put on the video wall- that helped to distract. Crayons from coloring contests were dug out. Popcorn and lemonade were dispensed. Cribs were rolled in. Parents were called.

It took almost four hours for all the kids to be picked up. We let them watch a movie to help pass the time.

Over at the tower, it looked like the Army had descended. Fire trucks, bomb squads, police cars and local media. Nobody could enter our parking lot without passing a safety checkpoint. Later that day, a passing Police Officer stopped and said a few arrests had been made around the city. He didn’t say what for.

As the week passed other changes arrived. Our back parking lot became a gathering point for emergency crews. Several times a massive amount of emergency workers from many communities would suddenly appear- to make sure they were ready. The next day the tower was evacuated again because an employee called in a fake bomb threat.

We had to remove promotional material for “Spiderman”. Most of it showed a helicopter crashing into a giant web strung between two eerily familiar towers. Other soon to be released films pulled shots of Manhattan that showed the towers.

A young man on an exchange trip from Germany was noticed taking pictures of the office tower in the parking lot. The other managers wanted to call the cops. I asked him what he was doing. He said, “Taking pictures of the leaves.” While he waited for the theatre to open. Wrong place, wrong time.

I refused to watch the news. They would only show the towers crashing down again.

Almost everyone at work knew or knew of somebody that died that day. A small boy, a distant cousin of mine, was in the tower that morning. My cousin, who is a union organizer, had led the restaurant workers at the top of the tower in their contract negotiations. They were all dead. Entire companies from Massachusetts were on those planes.

We hired a security guard to stand in our lobby all day and check everyone’s bags- for what, I often wondered.

I follow the news and listen to the on-going war with Iraq. Time has softened the edge of my anger, but not completely. A death for a death is not right, either. But, can we just let the evil that led to that day continue to exist? I don’t know.

I still drive to work every day and run the movies, providing an escape from a world that is sometimes very wrong. Perhaps that is something. Perhaps it isn’t.

The sun was shining bright this morning. It was shining two years ago, too.

Literary Nymphs Interviewed Me!

2011-08-22T11:33:00.000-04:00

The interview was posted today:

http://literarynymphshotlist.blogspot.com/

The Stray Cat Lee Rocker

2011-08-11T00:05:00.001-04:00

A tiny venue, the Tupelo Music Hall in Londonderry, NH. It seats around 240. I'd say about 50 people actually sat in the hardback chairs edged right up to the tiny stage. But sometimes bigger is not always better.

When the Stray Cats hit the charts in the early '80's, I was an easily swayed not quite teenager who was won over by songs of teenage arrogance. Ah, come on. That's what they were. Fast cars, fast women and rockin' music. What made it different from the rest of the Top 40? That string slappin' bass. The Cats resurrected rock-a-billy, redesigning the world's love affair with twang and pop. I bought into it then.

I was resold tonight. None of us in that hall were teenagers any more. But watching Lee Rocker play his bass, I rediscovered a little bit of that teenage awe. Perhaps for different reasons...

I saw a musician love his instrument. The four band members all had a wonderful time, still egging one another on to greater, faster heights as they explored the evening's riffs. I listened to a voice a little mellower with age, but still very fun to hear. The Stray Cats always wrote lyrics with more than a bit of tongue in cheek, and witnessing a bit of bantering on stage, there's a greater appreciation of where those tunes came from.

I bought the mp3 of the old album, and I can hear the youth in the studio tracks. But Lee Rocker and his band have not lost that joy--the spark that brought them Grammy nominations and millions of record sales.

So, yes, The Stray Cat Lee Rocker can still deliver an awesome set. The crowd leapt to their feet for the final songs. Applause resounded amongst the rafters.

When we sat down three rows and about five feet from the stage, I leaned over and whispered, "That's got to be a good indication. No chicken wire."

I'm glad to say, I was right. Sometimes you don't need to visit a venue that seats thousands to find a night filled with killer talent. Sometimes you only need to find a renovated barn.

http://www.leerocker.com/

The Silver Scream

2011-08-09T23:48:00.001-04:00

A great many things in my life have inspired me. Perhaps movies could be counted near the top. It wasn’t always happy ever after, for me. As a child, I adored the old creature feature films, many where shadows were the source of all fear. I watched Mel Brooks’ classic High Anxiety and loved all the imagery, camera angles and hidden characters…all spoofs of the greatest master of suspense, Alfred Hitchcock.

Thus when I decided to embark upon an erotic story that featured gremlins—those unseen creatures that live in the wiring—it should not surprise anyone that I placed the book in an old movie house. How many tales of fear and love crossed that silver screen in its heyday? And what of the old wiring? Does it keep memories of lights and passion?

The Silver Scream is not a tale of happy ever after, but perhaps lives closer to those suspense films of old where a great many things will happen in the course of time, many of them evil. This tale releases August 10^th at Purple Sword Publications, and you will find it available at most major ebook outlets shortly thereafter.

TAGLINE: Trapped in the wiring for decades, this Gremlin desires but one thing…and he can’t have her.

BLURB: Film school student, Gilda Albright, has taken a job in the newly refurbished Orpheum Theatre as a movie projectionist. The gem from another era prompts her imagination to take flight, and she invites her boyfriend Seth to a private screening. Looking like a movie star from the 50’s, she strips in the spotlight, ensnaring Seth’s lust and drawing the eager eyes of another to her buxom figure. The building takes on a life of its own—fear invades Gilda’s workdays. Will the unseen gremlin let her go or fulfill its erotic obsession with a vision from the past?

Age and Fandom: A Little Philosophy

2011-07-26T21:18:00.001-04:00

Appearing in today's Frontstretch, my Sittin' in the Stands: A Fan's View column I pondered my mortality and the apparent lack of in a young athlete...namely Austin Dillon. I think I'm falling for this kid. Hope you enjoy!

"Wishing For Just a Bit of Austin Dillon's Youth"

You Can't Get There From Here

2011-07-21T16:15:00.001-04:00

Apparently Google Maps thinks the ocean is so beautiful that you should take a detour to look at it whenever possible.

This is perhaps the first vacation that we have taken utilizing our GPS on the phone rather than a pile of map books (Yes, it took me a long time to get past that.) And it works well, until you enter Ogunquit, ME. Google has an obsession with sending you down to the ocean to sit in beach traffic rather than leaving you on the straight path that leads you to your destination.

Should we have listened to Lola (That’s what we call the GPS…reference the movie RV) we’d still be going in a literal circle that includes the towns of Ogunquit, Wells and Arundel. Kennebunk wasn’t much better. We knew we wanted to stay on Rte 9…but Lola kept telling us in its mellifluous voice to take a right. WRONG!

This morning, we chopped a good twenty minutes off our drive to Bath by taking a simple left out of the campground, rather than the 5-mile detour Lola had mapped out for us on the phone.

I know we’re missing many views of beach homes, people padding about in flip flops and eroding beach walls, but that’s okay. Walker’s Point and the Maine Maritime Museum were much more of what we were looking for, at the moment.

The visit to the Maritime Museum included a demonstration of a boat launch, more fascinating details of ship manufacture in the final days of the great schooners and a lovely boat ride on the Kennebec River, highlighted by lighthouses, eagles, osprey, seals, cormorants and terns. Perfect weather, perfect topic, perfect day.

Unfortunately, it looks like we won’t escape the heat wave heading our way, but at least there is the ocean to cool our toes in. Enjoy the photos!

Post Script by Betty: q 1wacfju7nb

And after the party is over...

2011-07-17T21:12:00.000-04:00

Okay, so the image at left is not New Hampshire, but the sentiment is appropriate.

The sun has set, the engines are silent and all that is left is the purr of the generators in the camping lots, and oddly enough the haunting voice of Tammy Wynnette echoing among the RV's. A bit surreal, if you ask me. But soothing, in its own way.

We walked down to the track about 8pm, a mere 3 1/2 hours after the checkers dropped and...

The Sprint display was already loaded into its four haulers, the SPEED stage haulers were idling with lights on and...I admit to being impressed. We walked up to the track and admired the piles of trash already neatly bagged up at the bottom of the stands. It seems that those of us enjoying a late supper and chatting idly while the rest of the world rushes off to its own destinations are perhaps taking the lazy departure a bit too far.

This is the other end of the arc. First there was last Sunday, with a few SCCA cars whizzing around the road course and but a few early RV's setting up in the lots. A sprinkling arrived Thursday with FanFest and the arrival of the racing haulers. A determined downpour of people started Friday night, culminating in the final furious storm that is Race Day in Sprint Cup world. You can even call the race itself the eye of the storm, as just about everybody stills to watch the cars go in circles.

But there is always the backside of the storm...when everybody runs for their cars and home. We just take shelter and listen to whatever our neighbors are playing...at the moment some mexican guitar solo...it's intriguing.

Tomorrow morning, we'll take the last of the weather with us...more wailing mexican music...

Well, until we make it back to civilization, enjoy your week. May it be not quite as overwhelming as a trip to the track :)

Next...

2011-07-17T10:00:00.001-04:00

It might be the compulsive part of my personality, but I ask myself, "What's next?" about 30 times a day. However, the moment that this question really hammers at my peace of mind is when I finish.

Finish what? At this particular moment, reading a book. It was awesome, and fun, sparked my imagination, took me to far off lands and times long ago. And now...I want more.

This is when my better half, if that's what you want to call responsibility, wars with my more creative self. I want to read another book full of kings, mistresses, war, politics, gowns, glory, deceit but I also have other projects that require attention. There is The King's Mistress, a new novel, and now a Fairy Tale project--which is finally getting the seeds of imagination it requires to take flight. There's racing, and commentary and editing. My job--you know, the thing that pays the bills, gets in the way of all of this. The house, my lord they really know how to plow you under, those piles of sticks which threaten to fall on top of you if you let them.

And still, amidst all this reality, the call of whimsy remains. I want to read another. There are volumes in the To Be Read pile. Movies in the To Be Watched pile. An afghan in the To Be Crocheted pile. Paint for the Finish the Living Room pile.

Read? Clean? Write? Play?

My fellow bookworms understand the call of the paperback. They draw you in and threaten to suck your life away, if you let them.

For today, I shall head off to the track, watch some racing, sort some photos and conjure a column for The Frontstretch.

Tomorrow? Maybe there will be time to read, perchance to dream...

What did I just read?

The Sweet Sense of Anticipation

2011-07-09T23:15:00.001-04:00

It's with great dread and anticipation that I look at the upcoming week.

First there is the fun! Richard dropped off the RV at NHMS this morning and tomorrow we'll drive up with a few more things and...just so we can wander around the track a bit. Watch the incoming RV's. Think about the great empty grounds that will be seething with humanity come next Saturday morning. I've said it many times, the NASCAR circus is an amazing feat of organizing and promotion. Seriously, Barnum & Bailey's train has nothing on the hauler parade that criss-crosses America continually for much of the year. This is spectacle on the grandest scale.

Now, the not so fun...well, not entirely true. Thursday night, come midnight, the final Harry Potter movie will open to thousands of dressed up muggles. About 1,500 of them will be at my theatre. In about one hour I will need to feed and seat these 1,500 patrons. It is enough to make one shiver in their shoes.

It is in itself something of a spectacle, these midnight screenings of the latest and greatest film. We will have capes, hats, wands, tattoos on foreheads, owls (fake) perching on arms and long, striped scarves wrapped around necks that would otherwise be bare in the summer heat. By and large, everybody laughs, is very patient and mostly cooperates with those moving the cattle in and out of the holding pens. And all the craziness will be over when the projector turns on and does its magic (yep--praying that the projector gremlins don't play any games on us).

So, you see, it's a big week. But before there is the Harry Potter insanity followed by the sudden appearance of a major city in the midst of the New Hampshire forest, there is tomorrow: Sunshine and 84, so says the Weather Channel. We'll wander around the track and enjoy the rumble of various vehicles as track personnel scurry to ready for their own version of a movie opening.

And I won't have to stress about a thing.

That's tomorrow. I'll worry about the rest when it gets here.

See you at the races!

The Elements of Love Now Available

2011-07-08T17:26:00.000-04:00

The Elements of Love

By: S.D. Grady | Other books by S.D. Grady
Published By: Purple Sword Publications, LLC
ISBN # 9781936165964

Word Count: 21932
Heat Index

Available in: HTML, Adobe Acrobat, Rocket, Microsoft Reader, Palm DOC/iSolo, Mobipocket (.prc), Epub

About the book

On a world at war, the Four Elements hold the key to balance and peace. An ancient prophecy first demands they surrender to undeniable passion.

Two tales of love and fantasy.

War rages between the Lands of the Moon and Sun. The Healer of Water, Arlynn, touches the scarred Fire mage Myrric. The steam of their passion alters Arlynn's powers forever, sending her on an odyssey to fulfill the ancient prophecy of peace for a world on the brink of destruction.

Village smith Grelig stops a slavegirl from stealing his lunch, but not his heart. Attempting to free Shayla from her cruel master, Grelig stumbles on a Trine of Evil and discovers that to spare one girl, he must first save his world.

An excerpt from the book

"Myrric?" she called softly.

He looked up.

As Arlynn's pale blue gaze locked on Myrric's black glare, a shockwave of power surged between them. Myrric looked stunned.

"What have you done to me?" he asked, his gravelly voice weary and scornful.

Arlynn looked up at the general present. "I need some time alone with the prisoner, sir."

The cynical, grizzled man with a short sword at his waist shook his head. "Your efforts to heal the High Mage would be wasted, Healer. Either Myrric will stand for us during the next battle or he will be executed for his crimes. Don't waste your powers on him."

Arlynn struggled to find an answer. She knew she had to have something from the beaten and bloody man before her. Even now, the power arced between them, invisible to the clerk and general. The spell he had begun to cast on the battlefield was not complete yet. Arlynn needed to finish it, or never heal another person again. Her powers, released during their kiss, were now locked up tight in the spell.

She settled for telling a half-truth. "Even so, general. I cast a healing spell on him, and it was incomplete. I must finish it before my powers can be used for the benefit of our troops. I was unaware of his identity when I began."

The general appeared to consider this. After only moments, he executed a short bow. "As you require, Healer. The clerk and I will leave you."

The door closed, and the heavy lock clicked into place. Myrric studied Arlynn closely.

"When I woke, I had no powers. What have you done to me?" he asked in a hard tone.

"Nothing more than what you did to me," she answered evenly. She reached towards his arm. He flinched, but his restraints held him in place.

"You were casting a spell before you passed out on the battlefield," she murmured as her hand settled above the burns on his arm. Power and passion erupted between them. The blue peace of healing waters lapped against the crimson sparks of fire.

Arlynn watched Myrric fight the odd effects of their melding.

"What were you casting?"

His mouth grimaced. "A fireball."

She considered. "So, you did not get the chance to send the power out from you. It now sits in me."

His black eyes watched her carefully.

"But my power lies in the oceans, not the fires." She paused seeking for a way to let him understand what was happening. "The surge of power I took from you ebbed away for a bit on the tide. Now it is a cresting wave, and it needs to be used somewhere." She bit her lip. "I could heal you. Your power would be restored, and our armies would not withstand the next blast you send our way."

He began to twist, pulling at his bindings.

She stood, settling her hand on his cheek. He stilled. "But then my powers would ultimately be used to hurt, not heal. I could not bear that." She bent over, his breath heating her lips. "But such power…it must be used for something." Sparks began to fly through the air.

Myrric eyed the temptress before him. Myths and legends were passed down at the School of Fire and War of a woman made of water, light and joy. Surely this could not be she, with eyes the color of the sea and a touch that set his blood boiling.

"Let me help you, Myrric," her moist lips whispered. "Let me take all the anger away. Let me give you joy."

"Joy?" he laughed roughly. "I have never known joy. It is not for men such as me."

Her fingers, soft and agile traced his cheek. Memories of heat and contentment surged forth.

"Nonsense, Myrric. What you have given me I am not sure. But I do know what I cannot do. I cannot allow you to take that power and kill more people." Her breath teased the small hairs near his left ear. "I can only heal." Her hands demanded more as they crossed his chest. "I can only love."

Honoring the Medal of Honor Recipients: 2011

2011-07-05T09:55:00.000-04:00

Last year during the Coke Zero 400, there was a tiny blip where cameras panned over a collection of men mentioned as Congressional Medal of Honor recipients...but no information given. Just a, "Hey, isn't that nice!" Then I felt compelled to share their stories of service and sacrifice.

Well, same thing happened again this year. So, I wrote another column :) If you ever wondered where all the stories from Hollywood came from...this is the real deal. Please enjoy, and thank those around you that serve and have served our great country!

http://www.frontstretch.com/sdgrady/34507/

900 Words

2011-07-03T00:30:00.000-04:00

Well, that's what I managed to put down for The King's Mistress, today. Not too bad. Why the word count? Ah, that's a writer thing. Either you count words or you don't. For me it's a way to feel like I've accomplished something, a bit of self-reward.

Since some of my stories are a mere 3,000 words, you can see why a number like 900 might get me all riled up. Problem is, I don't know how long The Mistress will end up...right now it's feeling like a novel. Oh, big sigh. Really? Another novel? Something else I'll have difficulty editing and getting sold? Why would I do such a silly thing?

And how long is a novel, you ask? Start at the big 50k and work your way up from there. With almost 3,500 in the bank for the Mistress, I am well on my way...and have no idea where I'm going. That's the funny part.

Oh well. Such is the whimsical nature of my muse.

And where did I get the inspiration this time? Like all my historical fantasies, from a real life character. In this case, Louis XV's long time mistress...what happened to her after he died? How can a woman wield such fearful power in the court one day, and the next be cast into the street because she was not of noble birth? That's the launching point.

Why do I do this? Only the muse knows...and she's not telling!

Until next time.

A busy day

2011-07-01T22:32:00.000-04:00

I'm trying out a few things today, like writing 1500 words on a new story and working on an updated website. Although, the most hitech trick might be learning how to post to blogger from my Galaxy tablet.
What is the new story about, you ask? Oh, the usual. There's a princess, the old king's mistress, a regent and a whole lot of political intrigue. Fun!
I hope this blog post actually find its way to you, and that you are enjoying a beautiful 4th of July!

(Hey! It worked :) )

Don't Know Where the Mouse is...

2011-05-19T14:46:00.000-04:00

My cat Emerson is asking for my help...which I'm not about to give.

He found a mouse last night. There was squeaking, and then some active digging behind my dresser late into the night. My husband helped with the hunt briefly, but determined it was much too late for this. Emerson gave up at some point, too, as he reappeared to sleep on my feet. But once I got up, apparently the mouse tried to make another run for it, and Emerson was making it squeak some more. He had it trapped in a pile of laundry. He would pounce periodically to see what noise the laundry might make next. I went in my library and shut the door.

I am accepting that cats are predators and love to hunt and play. So, I let them. However, I am not going to assist them.

Emerson knocked on the door a little while ago. He made quite a show of jumping on my lap, purring, flopping over and generally being a love bug. I made a trip to the kitchen. He turned off into the bedroom and asked politely if I would come, too. He began to circle around the dresser again, looking up at up and making his little "meh" noises when requesting assistance.

I guess the mouse is in hiding again. Emerson keeps circling the library and bedroom. Somebody needs to make the little rodent come out and play. That won't be me.

Betty, a little more arthritic than her partner in crime, has decided the mouse is too fast to bother. She's not helping, either.

I just hope it doesn't perish in an inaccessible spot...that smells.

Daily Victories: It Takes Neighbors

2011-02-23T18:00:00.003-05:00

This week, we got the bad guy.

A patron reported to one of our managers there was a suspicious person looking in car windows in our lot. It's a big lot--close to 3,000 spaces. So, you can imagine that a lot of people might wander around a bit after they've misplaced their car. Still, we checked it out. Sure enough, this young man was weaving through aisles, peaking in windows, ducking down for a minute or two and walking quickly in the other direction when he saw us watching him.

He moved his car one aisle over, driving about two miles an hour...slow enough that it catches your attention even in a parking lot. He probably figured that I couldn't see him...magic cloak of invisibility once he got in his car.

We called the police department, which I'd like to say that our PD is awesome. They're always polite, professional and respond to problems in a reasonable amount of time, considering the size of the city.

Mr. I'm Not Acting Weird bolted a few seconds before the cruiser arrived. But they did notice his little red car careening out of the lot and wandered off to stop him after getting a few details from me and my manager.

The next day, the officers stopped by to tell me the perp ran away. But they got the car. And they got a purse that he had stolen from a car he broke into. The patron got her purse back. The perp lost his car. And we've got all the info to nail him with when he reappears on the radar...and he probably will.

It all started with a concerned citizen, a manager who acted on the information and a police department that took the time to investigate a suspicious person. We can make a difference and we can help each other to keep our world a little safer.

Until next time! Have a great day.

Daily Victories: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

2011-02-18T20:30:00.001-05:00

You know, when you leave your swim suit hanging out to dry, I can imagine if it went missing you might not want to say anything. A little embarrassing, don't you think? But what if you know who snagged it off the line? Then what? It seems it's time to face off with the burglar...

And so the residents of a California neighborhood have. Except they're not ticked off. Not really. Because it's funny more than tragic. When Dusty the kleptomaniac kitty goes on his nightly prowl, he just can't resist bringing home any little, medium or even surprisingly hefty object that his neighbors leave in their yards.

You'll love the night vision shots at the end of the video as he brings in his nightly haul. Smile! And I hope all of life's little challenges are as benign as Dusty's neighbors.

Daily Victories: Listen Well

2011-02-09T18:13:00.001-05:00

Sail Boston 2009...by R.J. Grady

I love listening to people talk. Having grown up with parents who hail from two different parts of the US, living in more regions besides those and listening to Monty Python from an early age, my own accent is something of a mutt. Little bits from different places hang around in there. It does cause raised eyebrows from time to time. As such, I relate to anybody who is struggling to work their mouth around a new sound.

But sometimes, those sounds do make you smile. You can't help it.

Today I visited a store where the clerk, a middle-aged gentleman who hailed from Barcelona, I think, was struggling with his printer. Very polite. Made every effort to ensure I understood exactly the terms of the contract. Waved his hands a bit. And then when the contract refused to print he began mumbling, "Paper yam. It has a paper yam."

There was picking up the tray, turning it upside down, crumpling paper, pushing of buttons, turning around, asking the customer that entered the store, "Un momento, please. S'okay? I am having a paper yam," and other bits of dancing behind the counter. There was putting the phone on speaker while he waited for another patron to come back on the line...canned music filled the air.

Had it been another day, I might have eyed the circus with dread, knowing the receipt would never print. But you know, Javier made it worth the wait. Eventually he won the battle with the recalcitrant printer, we shook hands and I continued on with my day.

I would never trade the world we live in with another. It's too full of intriguing people, with and without accents.

Consistently Changing the Rules: An Obsession NASCAR Needs to Stop

2011-02-08T11:50:00.000-05:00

If you didn't read your Frontstretch Newsletter this morning, feel free to enjoy my column by clicking on the link:

http://www.frontstretch.com/sdgrady/32587/

And a big thank you to Mellissa Monk for reading :)

The Frontstretch Returns Full Time for 2011

2011-02-07T14:09:00.000-05:00

The 2011 NASCAR season is getting ready to go green! And my other obsession besides writing romance has returned for another year of news and commentary about my favorite sport:

The Frontstretch

Today we're examining the changes made to the Chase and the Points System.

Also, if you like NASCAR coming to your inbox, sign up for our daily newsletter:

Frontstretch Newsletter Sign Up

Tomorrow my weekly commentary, Sittin' In the Stands, will appear in the newsletter.

Until then, have a great day.

Daily Victories: Small Kindnesses

2011-02-06T01:48:00.000-05:00

Life is like a box of chocolates...literally.

You never know what to expect. It's a sad truth in retail life that you make very few friends. You might have many customers, even familiar faces that you exchange smiles with, but that personal connection is often lost amidst the throngs. Thus, when somebody leaves you a small box of valentines candy, it makes your entire day.

My valentine is simply a gentleman who had a couple trying experiences and I spent a few minutes talking to him about it. We came to an understanding. I hoped he would still come back. And he did...with that box of chocolates. This came on the heels of a neighbor plowing our driveway during the latest snowstorm.

It's at moments like this that I am reminded that we all are part of a neighborhood, no matter how large the city we live in. Or even how seldom we actually speak to those around us. Yet, we are all human and I can vouch most of us have kind hearts. Each of us looks to our neighbors for reassurance that we live in a good world and it is our personal responsibility to live up to that obligation. It's not hard. It just takes small kindnesses to help keep the fabric of life whole.

A smile. A thank you. A gesture of good will. And the strength to Pass It Forward when you have the chance.

Who would you like to thank? Have you?

Have a great day.

Daily Victories: The Sun Does Shine

2011-02-03T18:00:00.001-05:00

Two days and more than a foot of snow MORE later...the sun came out. It does that, you know. Blue skies. White piles all around. Really pretty. And to top it off, I spotted two bald eagles this morning fishing over the Merrimack River. Fantastic!

While I grew up in the Merrimack Valley, wildlife really wasn't part of the daily life. The river was off limits back then to just about everything. Filled with trash and pollution, it boggled the mind how it could even be a water source for communities along its banks.

But things have changed. Those eagles are proof. They aren't plants. Nobody put them here. They came back. We have a few nesting pairs, but the Merrimack is also host to a wintering colony that fly south from Canada. Apparently snow drifts and frozen rivers are balmy for these guys.

But you know, after you've been shoveling and shoveling and laugh while your neighbors curse the skies at the now freezing rain that's falling, it is a glorious thing to drive around and see that massive bird with its white head and tail hovering over some open water.

Things do change. Our water ways are cleaner. The fish stocks are larger. And the eagles are returning. It makes one believe Spring might arrive one of these days.

Better times are ahead. Have a good day.

Daily Victories: Give Yourself Credit

2011-02-01T08:59:00.001-05:00

Atlanta Botanical Gardens

If cleanliness is next to godliness, I'm no saint.

This winter, I've been working on tossing out those piles of boxes and doo-dads you accumulate over time. You know...the "it might be useful" someday stuff. And I must be imaginative, because most of this stuff ain't ever gonna be of use to anybody.

This last week I made the big step of calling a junk guy to haul off the big stuff...bikes, mattresses--the ones you wouldn't want the cat to sleep on, TV's, etc. etc. After he departed I walked around the house and realized that although there's still a goodly pile of stuff nobody will ever want or use, I can actually make use of three rooms in my house I couldn't three months ago.

This wasn't an overnight success. It happened a little bit every day...or every other day, depending on the rest of life. It happened because I kept repeating to myself, "Hey! You got those bottles returned!" or, "See? You can open the china cupboard, now." Not that I'm serving a fancy dinner soon, but still.

I poked my head into the sun porch and realized that the piano was accessible...I can call the tuners! Ah! Not yet.

You see, the really big goal is to finish the living room. So, piano tunings and china cupboards aside, there's still a lot of trash and donations to be cleared. But I'm getting there. Honestly getting there. And it's happening because you just gotta keep saying, "I completed a little tiny something today that wasn't done yesterday."

When you look back after a week or two, it's pleasing to see, or not see in my case, just how much can be accomplished with persistence, and giving yourself a pat on the back for achieving one small extra goal a day.

Maybe I'm the little train that could...maybe that's a childhood story we should all revisit when we're feeling like life is impossible.

'Til next time, keep smiling!

Daily Victories: Lost and Found

2011-01-30T14:16:00.000-05:00

If you dropped your wallet at a major entertainment venue, would you expect to get it back?

I ask, because like many people in this world, I have to admit that I wouldn't necessarily expect to find that wallet again. But, you know what? More people turn in those wallets to the lost & found departments and the police than you'd think.

Yesterday, in a single eight hour shift, I returned to worried individuals two cell phones, a wallet, set of car keys, an iPod and various hats and scarves. And I'm only the person rummaging through the lost & found bucket...not the one finding and turning in the items. I still have a lost wedding ring note on the bulletin board--perhaps that, too, will appear.

But besides lost items, there are also lost people. My high school principal stopped for a friendly hello last night, as well as a police officer who used to work details for me over ten years ago.

Yes, we all have too many things to keep track of in our daily lives. But we'd all be a bit happier if we truly believed that the people in our neighborhoods are willing to help us keep it all organized.

The next time you misplace an item, ask around. I bet somebody will be happy to bring a smile to your face and return it to you.

Daily Victories

2011-01-29T10:54:00.000-05:00

Yes! I found the focus for this blog. I am always impressed by the series of TV ads placed by the Foundation for a Better Life. If you read their website, they don't accept donations. All this independently run concept charity asks is for every person on the planet to take those values we all cherish and utilize them in our daily lives.

And as I've considered one topic after another for this blog, I am usually faced with one truth, I don't want to turn this blog into a place to whine...it's not becoming and there's far too much of that on this planet. So, I will use this space to talk about what makes me happy, what I saw today that made me smile...or made somebody else smile.

We forget, but there are many kindnesses that are extended from one human to another each and every day. Strangers are kinder than we'd believe, due to the nightly news with stories of murder, war, theft. There're far too many places for you and me to learn about that. So, here will be a good place.

For today's daily victory I'll share something I saw between two of my employees: One a teenaged girl, the other a young asian immigrant. They were leaving for the night and chattering away. When they passed me, she kept repeating the word 'vocabulary'. He was attempting to say it. She spelled it out. He spelled it out. They sounded out the word together...it has a couple sounds difficult to say. He said it very slowly by himself.

"There you go!" She smiled. "You got it!"

He thanked her and left for the night.

They're not particular friends. Just co-workers. People with good hearts. One wanted to help, the other was willing to accept the olive branch.

And that is today's daily victory.

The picture? I'll be using pics from my vacations...they made me smile at one point. I hope they'll make you smile, too.

Share your daily victories! I'll post them :)

Have a great day.

Is it a Hobby or an Obsession?

2011-01-25T09:25:00.000-05:00

I dare not call it a career or even a job. Writing just seems to be something I can't stop doing.

When attempting to succeed in the arts--whether it be music, art, film, dance, or writing--first there must be a belief that you have something to offer that others don't. You practice, hone and research. Try once, throw it out, and try again. Sometimes you decide it is no longer worth pursuing. I've pursued a number or artistic endeavors throughout my life, but writing is the one that keeps coming back. It always has.

But does that make my musings worthy of supporting me? In a materialistic manner? I am not vain enough to think that like geniuses of centuries past, my prose is meant for readers of future generations, and thus I shall never see the true worth of these words in my lifetime. lol No...not that.

My dream...I am foolish enough to have those...is to manage to support myself with my maunderings. This year is the year of the agent hunt. It is a dreary process, but one you must struggle through in this particular area of the arts. But mostly, you must believe in yourself. Your voice.

Time and again I have tried writing "for the market." Ultimately, my works tend to live in the margins of those popular markets, but never in the fast lane. Perhaps that will be my epithet..."From the sidelines."

It's not a bad place to be. You get to see a lot of life from that angle. And you will never really end up in the middle, due to a lack to fitting in, if you will.

Currently, I am querying my latest work "The Heart of the Dragon," and just starting on the next idea. Novel or novella remains to be seen for The King's Mistress. NASCAR cranks up in just a couple more weeks and I'll be returning to the world of sports opinion on a weekly basis.

I am hoping to make this blog something more regular over the next few months. It will take a bit to find this one's focus...NASCAR Notes took me in a direction I never believed I could achieve, really never intended to achieve...I covered a Sprint Cup race from the infield! That there is proof that the improbably can happen if you follow your heart. Good things come from good effort.

Well, that's all for this morning. I shall return when I have more to share :) Enjoy the snow! We've got enough of it.

Blogging...and movies

2010-10-06T12:00:00.000-04:00

This week I finally got to watch Julie & Julia--the story of a frustrated writer turned government employee who finds her true self through cooking. Hrmmm...not really the proper tag line for the movie, but there it is.

Of course, totally enjoyed the movie, but perhaps moreso because of the struggles that both Julie and Julia encountered in their path to "authorhood". Publishers who don't think the book is quite right, redo, rewite, recreate...and then the choice of finding employment that pays the bills while you chase your creative dreams through sheer determination.

I can relate to the latter quite well. Blogging has brought me a certain amount of reward in my relatively short career as a writer. It has brought me recognition in the NASCAR world...something I'm not really sure I appreciate on a daily basis. Perhaps that's where the paycheck comes in...such greedy creatures, aren't we?

Writing is still something I want to do and be, and yet haven't quite made the leap to full-time commitment. My career of choice at the moment permits some latitude in pursuing authorship as something as a hobby, and yet that's not quite the reward I am seeking for my inner self.

As I age, and look around at artists' biographies in other places and times, it occurs to me that we all struggle to find that place where we are free to search for that true creative spirit that dwells within.

If only there was time, money and the daily inspiration...perhaps there is and I just haven't managed to put them all together, yet. Eh...

Tonight, I'm gonna bake a pie. What has this to do with anything? Ah--it's the moment of decision where you will take the ingredients, time and effort to create something out of something else. And maybe...as Julie said...knowing that when you add apples, cinnamon, butter and bake it you get something yummy--that is reassuring. And helps in this world of uncertainty with never enough time to finish all you want to do.

I think today would be a good day to walk around my house and take stock of my achievements: The books in print, the award for my Wallflower victory, the blankets and tableclothes I crocheted, two happy cats, photos of places experienced and a loyal husband.

That's a whole lot of good. And proof that we do accomplish something in our daily lives. Sometimes it just takes forever to get there...

After the Race...

2010-07-25T22:41:00.000-04:00

Some Images from Indy

2010-07-24T16:25:00.000-04:00

Qualifying at Indy

2010-07-24T14:30:00.002-04:00

Juan Pablo Montoya's No. 42 Target Toyota took the pole this morning. Really a beautiful facility. Enjoyed the vantage point from our seats for Sunday's Race.

Trucks at ORP

2010-07-24T08:54:00.004-04:00

Another track checked off the list...the truck race last night at O'Reilly Race Park was really good for a number of things. Ron Hornaday won, fending off an eager Kyle Busch and took Timothy Peters to school on "the slide job." Just plain great.

A bit about the facility:

They charge for parking--I don't really get this. They're obviously jacking the prices for the NASCAR week anyway...$47 for just the trucks and $52 for the Nationwide. This is for a spot on a backless bench, which is much too narrow to share with the rest of humanity. So the extra $10-$15 for a parking spot seems just gratuitous.

With all the extra income from Speedfest...I would ask ORP to fix their score board. They use "7" for the digit "1" and "9" for the digit "4"...which is all very confusing when you're checking what lap you're on. Things just don't seem to be counting up or down. I won't hold the four position board, that's what most regional tracks manage to maintain.

Restrooms...well maintained and plenty. Thank you!

No tunnel...but as I said before. As a local track, that's fine.

The dragstrip is a thing of beauty! Makes me wanna try out some NHRA action. You can see this is where ORP gets the $$$, as they've even got some suites for the strip.

Getting there from Indy...so simple. Especially where we ignored the DOT signs and just followed Crawfordsville Road. Literally only 15 minutes. Leaving was just as sweet, once somebody wth more sense than us opened the gates for the strip, allowing us to leave the way we arrived. Otherwise it was everybody going nowhere as nobody knew which way to go--humans are creatures of habit. Don't give us a rat maze all of a sudden. We knew how this worked when the sun was up.

The racing: Awesome. Two real racing grooves with just enough room to squeeze a third when you had to. Tires gave up after 60 laps, putting a lot of wheel back in the driver's hands. And seats are down close to the action and can still see all the turns. That's the hallmarks of a great little facility.

And a note about the Trucks: Look, when the Top 10 trucks are running a totally separate race from the rest of the field, you don't really have parity. You have 26 trucks in the way of the frontrunners. NASCAR even lowered the threshold for minimum speed, the difference between first and last speed was so disparate. In this case, there is no possibility for the wanna-be's to win. All they can hope for is to stay out of the way of Hornaday & Busch's front bumper.

To me, this is a clear indication that the Truck Series is in far more trouble than the lack of sponsors tells us. Not this year...probably not next. But unless things turn around in the higher series, the Camping World Truck Series will not be long for this world.

Later! (More heat today...ughness)

A Morning Walking at Indy

2010-07-23T13:48:00.002-04:00

With the forecast for 100+ again, we agreed to walk over to the track around 10am for a couple hours before the heat really took over. I'm glad was did--although, the walk to the track is possibly the shortest we've ever enjoyed. I'll give it about 1/3 of a mile from the camper.

Having never been to Indy, I was curious just where all the t-shirt haulers and such were located, since they aren't outside the gates and there's about 20 feet from the gate to the stairs to head up to your seats. There's a tunnel! For the pedestrians! That goes to the infield...and where there's all sorts of good things to do.

Oh, we walked up to Victory Lane for some pics, enjoyed the sight of some Camaro's taking some laps around the track, studied the stands and then walked down to the garages where there are areas provided for the fans to watch all the inspections and such--with no Cold Pass required. First time I've run into this at any track I've visited--even the local tracks.

And yes, lots and lots of shopping available. I now have the requisite AJ Allmendinger t-shirt I promised Dinger I would have for the next race I was at. Also, picked up a signed Brad Keselowski 1/24th No. 12--really had to debate 12 vs. 22. Especially after last week's drama. Richard said I could have the car as long as he could set up a scene with Edward's car wrecking him...I then had to point out he would have to buy the Edward's car...

Anyway, this is a beautiful facility that has really engineered its vast infield for the benefit of the fans. Since the streets outside the track could use some beautifying, I have to applaud the management for making an actually boring grandstand and track surface have something more to offer...

Oh! Listen to that! We're on the track. I'll probably cheat and watch from the comfort of the camper for practice...but I really love sitting outside and hearing that noise go by.

Til Later! When I have some updates from ORP! I love trucks...

I'm Melting!

2010-07-22T21:33:00.003-04:00

We made it! We're parked just outside the frontstretch of Indianapolis Motor Speedway. The famous pagoda is visible from our campsite. The top is illuminated with blue lights, and should somebody be running on the track, there is a massive leader board wrapping around the roof.

We are in a city. This is a unique experience for racing. At the corner of Turn One, there is a gas station, a liquor store and the kind of three-way intersection that makes most urban residents of our nation cringe. The campground is surrounded by pleasant one-level homes built in the 50's. Most of them have RV's renting space on the front lawn. The American Legion Speedway Post is within a stone's throw, and promises a $7 breakfast buffet on Sat. & Sun morning. Also, of note, they claim to have a biker club...only in America.

The weather....100 degree heat index with very high humidity. We shopped for food (A/C), went to the museum (A/C) and took a brief tour of the track (more A/C) then figured out how to fool the RV into allowing the Honda generator to run the A/C without blowing a circuit for a short time. They say more of the same to come for the weekend...it will be a battle between watching racing maintaining our sanity.

What is unique about Indy vs. the other racing venues we've visited is the history. This is where automotive history has been made over and over. It's not all about NASCAR. In fact, their museum deigned to make enough room for two whole stock cars in the collection...that says something. We looked at Daemler carriages from the late 1800's--metal, wood, leather and all moving parts visible. Speedometers run off gears from the front wheel. Suspension parts made out of woven straps. Basic rudder systems for steering. Dashboards? What are those?

It's proof that we've been going as fast as possible since the beginning of time, and we've spent the last century figuring out how to do it with an engine and four wheels. Sometimes with understated elegance, and at other times stripped to the bare essentials. There was one car from the 20's that was pock-marked with an effort to strip weight off the behemoth to meet a race entry requirement--unsuccessfully.

Otherwise...the track is much the same as any other. Grandstands stand empty waiting for the pomp and ceremony of Sunday to arrive. That's when the magic happens.

Until then... :)

Memories and Mayhem

2010-07-21T19:34:00.005-04:00

The Midwest...or at least approaching it. According to the endless cornfields, I'm gonna call Indiana at least something akin to my early memories as a child in Nebraska. Although, there are changes...

Farms no longer sport a windmill next to the barn. The few that appear here and there are decrepit reminders of a time when electric pumps weren't the cheapest and most reliable form of obtaining water. Instead, cell towers dot the landscpapes. Clapboard farmhouse of indeterminate years, garage with a few random four-wheeled creatures in front of it, a larger shed for the big equipment and then either a billboard or a cell tower. The cows are the same. You don't see the corn cob hills that figured so large in my "Don't play on that" childhood or the few chickens scratching in the yard, either. Farming is bigger, and the fields less...cared for.

Other triggers that brought me back...the smell of a summer thunderstorm. We passed through one near the end of the trip today. It's...intense. Back in the East, we do talk about the smell of rain, but this is different. It hits you hard. Something significant just happened. And it makes you smile. The sound...of the grasshoppers. This is not such a pleasant memory, but still...it's there. If you've never heard about the "year of the grasshoppers" story, I'll have to tell you sometime. Expect me to wiggle and frown. It was not nice. And finally, the lilt of the accent. I didn't find that until we checked in at the campground. Not so pronounced in the swing of the vowels as the south, but it's still much softer than the east with a healthy complement of r's in all the correct places :P Wonder what I sound like to them these days...

And finally, my two cents about the current NASCAR controversy:

Last Saturday, Carl Edwards spun Brad Keselowski in the final stretch of the Nationwide race. It resulted in a scary wreck you've probably seen twenty times on the news by now. Well, NASCAR decided enough was enough in the "have at it boys" world and docked Edward's No. 60 team 60 driver and owner's points, fined Counsin Carl $25,000 and placed him on probation until the end of the season.

I don't know if I like this. I wonder...is NASCAR permitting the fans to dictate their actions? The world had Carl painted as an assassin after the race. He was racing hard. He spun Keselowski. We've seen these kind of finishes before...remember Earnhardt Sr. & T. Labonte back when? It was hard racing then...what's different now? The intent between competitors isn't any different. Is it us? hrmmm... You could tell me the sanctioning body has changed, that's truth. But not what makes this sport go round, so to speak.

If (yes, we're playing the "if" game) nobody else had hit Keselowski's No. 22 at Gateway, I am fairly certain that NASCAR would've looked the other way. It wouldn't have made international headlines. Fans would've still hated Edwards and still said Keselowski got what he had coming...but it changed when that No. 22 was nailed again and went spinning across the finish line. It blew the intention and the actions of the competitors out of perspective.

What do I hope for in the near future? Now I want to see another pair of competitors (let's say Harvick and Logano) go at it for the second time this season. I want to see the same actions by those specific competitors without the entire field piling into the wreck after and then I want to see what the NASCAR Gods decide to do...it'll be a joke. Guaranteed. Because they just took the "have at it boys" logo off the big screen and now nobody knows what to do.

Catch ya'll later from outside the frontstretch of Indianapolis Motor Speedway!

On the Road Again

2010-07-20T19:48:00.004-04:00

Hi guys! Yes, we're on the way to Indianapolis Motor Speedway--the mecca of auto racing in America. I'm sort of bouncing from foot to foot even as I write this...Indy is one track I've always wanted to see since I sat in the living room as a kid and watched the little "pointy" cars attack it. But anyway, there will be a whole week to discuss the wonders of a track that made a town just for itself...

Rolling across America in an RV is a unique and fun way to travel. Instead of waiting in lines, taking off my shoes and undergoing creepy x-ray machines, my day has been spent watching the great forest of the Northeast roll past my window. There's the counting of the other RV's we see on the road (BING) and slight complaints about road construction, but it's really a less stressful manner of travel once you're accustomed to it.

Rookie RV'ers are fun to watch, and I say this with full knowledge that we once looked ragged and worn after having the trailer drive our truck down the highway without proper just about everything. But once you've passed the novice status, you stop worrying about the location of gas stations that provide diesel and revel in the funny looks you get when you pull your rig up next to a "real" truck at the service center. Somehow, my phone's camera managed to make our Silverado look pretty stout next to that Freightliner, but in reality the 2500/35ft RV combo looks a bit silly wallowing next to the grunts of the transporation world.

You can't help notice the big rigs as you head west over I84/I80--they nearly outnumber the cars. You do get to realize the vast number of trucking companies out there and what they haul.

Somewhere in Connecticut they're building a bridge...the I-beams kept appearing over the horizon at regular intervals. Prefabbed sheds were another favorite of the day. The BING meter went nuts as a trailer had six pop-ups piled on it. Fed-Ex, UPS, Conway, Millis...it goes on for some time. Pre-fabbed pools, cranes, boats, tractors, etc. etc. We did notice a lack of livestock trailers--we can never forget our drive through Georgia years ago as we seemed to encounter the entire population of the Perdue plant in an endless parade of feathers trapped in trailers.

All this under alternating overcast and blue skies framed by the green climbing hills. We're settled in at the first campground--several other rigs have NASCAR stickers on them. We've got the A/C going, the bed is made with our own sheets, supper was an impromptu tuna salad sandwich deal and I'm rocking in my comfy chair. Outside the picture window, rabbits and robins are decorating the edge of the woods. This ain't bad...

I'll take the calm before the storm, for on Thursday we'll be planted in the vast maze of race fans at the track amidst the dull roar of all those generators...Ain't that cool?

Catch ya'll later !

The Eyes of Sin Wins the CTRR!

2008-11-16T18:07:00.000-05:00

"The Eyes of Sin"

by S.D. Grady

is awarded the CTRR!

I am so psyched! This is the second CTRR S.D. Grady has
earned this year!

Read the review:

http://coffeetimeromance.com/CoffeeThoughts/?p=670

Buy the ebook!

The print volume releases in December

http://sonyadgrady.com

I'm interviewed this week!

2008-11-01T10:29:00.001-04:00

This week I am the guest blogger at Jon Michealson's blog! I'm talking about...well, read the blog and find out :-)

http://www.jonmichaelsen.net/

AND

I am featured this month at The Romance Studio! Read the interview by clicking on the link!

http://theromancestudio.com/who8.php

Take care and have a wonderful weekend!

S.D. Grady
http://sonyadgrady.com/

7 Days of Gremlins: Day 7

2008-10-30T09:10:00.000-04:00

7 Days of Gremlins!

Join the Authors of Gremlins: An Anthology on
Halloween for a chat from 1-5 at

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lydDarkAngels/

There will be tricks, treats and general mayhem! I
suspect we'll have a great time.

The next of the seven tales in this Anthology comes from
S.D. Grady: The Silver Sream

Trapped in the wiring for decades, this Gremlin desires one thing - and he
can't have her.

Film school student, Gilda Albright, has taken a job in the newly refurbished
Orpheum Theatre as a movie projectionist. The gem from another era prompts her
imagination to take flight, and she invites her boyfriend Seth to a private
screening. Looking like a movie star from the 50’s, she strips in the spotlight,
ensnaring Seth’s lust and drawing the eager eyes of another to her buxom figure.
The building takes on a life of its own—fear invades Gilda’s workdays. Will the
unseen gremlin let her go or fulfill its erotic obsession with a vision from the
past?

Gremlins: An Anthology in print is available now at
loveyoudivine.com and at

Amazon

Watch the Gremlins book trailer at my website!
http://sonyadgrady.com

7 Days of Gremlins: Day 6

2008-10-29T08:32:00.000-04:00

7 Days of Gremlins!

Join the Authors of Gremlins: An Anthology on
Halloween for a chat from 1-5 at

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lydDarkAngels/

There will be tricks, treats and general mayhem! I
suspect we'll have a great time.

The next of the seven tales in this Anthology comes from
Dawné Dominque: Bonamy and Clyde

Dipuc the gremlin has his hands full when he secretly causes havoc for Bonamy
Parker, an uptight, scrupulous businesswoman, who has no time for any nonsense
in her life or from those around her. Clyde Barow, her handsome, easy-going
neighbor, is drawn into the gremlin’s mischievous ways, and sparks begin flying
in more ways than one. *N.B. No banks were robbed during the writing of this
novel.*

Bonamy is content living within the confines of her regimental routines; that is
until Dipuc enters her life and everything she thinks important flies out the
window. Her neighbor, Clyde Barow, has been smitten with Bonamy since he first
saw her in the elevator of their apartment building, but she doesn’t know he
even exists. Dipuc, a gremlin matchmaker, plays havoc with both their lives
until a terrifying moment brings Bonamy and Clyde together. Can Bonamy see
beyond her perfectionist ways and realize that perhaps Clyde is exactly what she
needs? With a little impish help from Dipuc, all three of their worlds collide.

*N.B. No banks were robbed during the writing of this novel.*

Gremlins: An Anthology in print is available now at
loveyoudivine.com and at

Amazon

Watch the Gremlins book trailer at my website!
http://sonyadgrady.com

7 Days of Gremlins: Day 5

2008-10-28T08:45:00.001-04:00

7 Days of Gremlins!

Join the Authors of Gremlins: An Anthology on
Halloween for a chat from 1-5 at

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lydDarkAngels/

There will be tricks, treats and general mayhem! I
suspect we'll have a great time.

The next of the seven tales in this Anthology comes from
Dahlia Rose: Night and Day

Larkin Day thought she was a hardened cop until she found out what lurked in
the night.

When Larkin watched her partner die it was one of the worst nights of her life.
They said it was an addict strung out on drugs, but they were all wrong. No
addict did things like that to a human body. It was no addict that attacked her
on that roof. When Keaton Knight broke into her apartment, he confirmed
everything she saw. Gremlins. It was unbelievable; it was something out of the
movies. Now she’s in a fight to save New York City from things that should not
even exist. Alongside a man who makes her body sizzle with every touch on her
skin, Larkin knows she and Keaton are like night and day. Can they come out of
the darkness together after the horror they must face?

Gremlins: An Anthology in print is available now at
loveyoudivine.com and at

Amazon

Watch the Gremlins book trailer at my website!
http://sonyadgrady.com

5 Coffe Cups for The Eyes of Sin!

2008-10-26T11:51:00.000-04:00

FANTASTIC REVIEW!

"The Eyes of Sin" by S.D. Grady
has just been awarded 5 Coffee Cups at Coffee Time Romance.

"Ms. Grady takes a country girl, gives her
the will to become someone she is not, then turns her into a strong woman with
the will to survive. The push and pull attraction between the two main
characters is thick with the want and need they have for each other. The scenes
depicted in the tale were described with vivid clarity. A sensational read for
any romance reader, this story is filled with passion, laughter, and tears. The
Eyes of Sin is a tale that will be remembered for years to come.

Danielle

Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance"

Read
the entire review!

DOWNLOAD THE EBOOK TODAY

Visit S.D.
Grady's website for more great reads!

7 Days of Gremlins: Day 3

2008-10-26T09:55:00.000-04:00

7 Days of Gremlins!

Join the Authors of Gremlins: An Anthology on
Halloween for a chat from 1-5 at

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lydDarkAngels/

The next of the seven tales in this Anthology comes from
Cerise Amour: Fire for Ice

In the land of Lanae, where gremlins are soulbeings to their humans, an evil
stalks. Tamir Arden, Captain of the Guards, must find a murderer and bring him
to justice. When he discovers a strange marking carved into the latest victim’s
flesh, he knows the symbol all too well. It belongs to the Princess Callista,
who is about to take the throne as the next Queen of Lanae.

There’s a killer loose in the kingdom of Lanae, and Captain Tamir Arden, and
his gremlin, must bring the culprit to justice. After a young woman is murdered,
he discovers the killer has left a clue—a strange, but familiar marking carved
into the poor girl’s flesh—a symbol belonging to the beautiful Princess Callista
of Lanae.

On his way to question her, Tamir finds Callista in panicked fear in the
hallway outside her royal apartments, lost in a strange, magical spell. He’s
swept away by the princess’ beauty, but even worse, both their gremlins are
enamoured with each other—and whatever their soulbeings feel, so do the humans
they represent. There’s a little quandary, however. If Tamir is caught with
Callista, it could mean certain death for him.

Ensnared between catching a killer who is hunting the Princess, and fighting
his growing desires of forbidden love, humans, gremlins and magic collide.

This is Cerise Amour's debut! With this delightful story
of fantasy, love, and danger, she has proven she will be an author to watch!

Gremlins: An Anthology in print is available now at
loveyoudivine.com and at

Amazon

Watch the Gremlins book trailer at my website!
http://sonyadgrady.com

7 Days of Gremlins: Day 2

2008-10-25T09:14:00.001-04:00

7 Days of Gremlins!

Join the Authors of Gremlins: An Anthology on
Halloween for a chat from 1-5 at

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lydDarkAngels/

The first of the seven tales in this Anthology comes from Bret
Jordan: The Witch, the Hunter and the Bride

A witch ensnares a simple hunter in a web of desire with musical enchantment.
The hunter battles guilt and weakness while trying to hold onto the love of his
bride and save her life.

When Monteh the hunter becomes trapped by Nagoi the witch’s enchantingly lustful
song, he finds he must battle the guilt that threatens to overcome him while
hiding his unwanted adultery from the wife that loves and trusts him. When he
does find the courage to sever his vile relationship with the witch, he finds
the task isn’t as simple as he had hoped. A dark sorceress isn’t easily spurned.

Gremlins: An Anthology in print is available now at
loveyoudivine.com and at

Amazon

Watch the Gremlins book trailer at my website!
http://sonyadgrady.com

7 Days of Gremlins! Day 1...

2008-10-23T22:43:00.001-04:00

7 Days of Gremlins!

Join the Authors of Gremlins: An Anthology on Halloween for a chat from 1-5 at

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lydDarkAngels/

The first of the seven tales in this Anthology comes from Anastasia Rabiyah: Hiram's Secret

Hiram sneaks into a trader’s cart and ventures past the rift wastelands near his poor village and passes through the forbidden portal to a world and love beyond his imaginings.

Unhappy in his simple life of work and more work, Hiram Oversher decides it’s time to find a bride and make a new life for himself. When he passes through the gateway he’s been warned about since childhood not to enter, his body awakens to a sensual calling and energy he cannot understand. He sees visions of a beautiful maiden, nude and in need of him. Inside the keep of Lord Beorolf, waking dreams and those during sleep reveal a secret Hiram longs to uncover and know.

Gremlins: An Anthology in print is available now at loveyoudivine.com and atAmazon

Watch the Gremlins book trailer at my website!http://sonyadgrady.com

New Book Trailer!

2008-10-08T20:36:00.001-04:00

The Forgotten Princess by S.D. Grady

2008-09-15T16:33:00.001-04:00

The Forgotten Princess by S.D. Grady

Posted using ShareThis

The Forgotten Princess Just Released

2008-07-27T15:37:00.002-04:00

Just Released!

The Forgotten Princess

A pawn of her ruthless
father, Lavinia became the child bride of an equally ruthless monarch and was
shuttled aside when she failed to produce the heir, forgotten—Except by Eric who
rose to power as the new ruler and refused to allow it.

Click
Here to read an excerpt!

Don't Miss this award
winning tale by S.D. Grady of desire, duty
and derring-do!

For all that King Eric knew that he couldn’t take a barren
bride to wife, neither could he ignore the King’s widow. Draw to her loneliness
by his own, he couldn’t resist just one kiss—but the kiss they shared that
awakened the forgotten princess and set her free, imprisoned his heart.

Testing podcasting

2008-07-10T09:51:00.003-04:00

Trying out the idea of podcasting and how easy it all is. A little ad for my upcoming release "The Silver Scream".

An Accomplished Lady releases!

2007-06-17T17:45:00.000-04:00

My Regency Romance, An Accomplished Lady, is releasing July 1st at Wings ePress! I'm very excited.

Click here in July and you'll find the link for purchase:

http://wingsepress.com/

Later!

Testing

2007-01-03T12:55:00.000-05:00

since blogger hasn't let me post in a month...

The end of the season...

2006-12-04T14:15:00.000-05:00

And the start of something new The amount of disinterest I held for The Chase this year was rather, well...it was boring. Yes, Lil E and JG made it in. But we knew they wouldn't win. Neither of them had it on this year. Good, as always, just not WOW. Even the Champ Jimmie Johnson and Matt Kenseth put on a slightly ho-hum show as they closed in on the final races. The stories I wanted to watch (Denny Hamlin and Jeff Burton) while intriguing in their novelty, just didn't do it for me. Of course, the Saturday afternoon Cup Series that was the weekly prelude to the Sunday Cup event did nothing to spur my interest either.Let's just say that I'm glad it's over. And there's so much coming! 2007 is the season of interest. Toyota, immigrants from the IRL series, veterans taking it slow...leaving Mr. Gordon to look ever more like the elder statesman. (Mike Waltrip will never earn that accolade). The much debated Car of Tomorrow will take its bow. And right now Goodyear is trying to stave off a very ugly invasion by Hoosier. Goodyear might lose their contract if they can't settle a strike with the Steel Workers Union (it took me a moment to figure that out...until I remembered steel belted radial tires..ah! Steel!)On the local scenes...Mike Dillon won the BGNE series with Sean Caisse giving him a run for the money. Sean is young and very eager...too eager if you remember his debut in a Busch car at Dover. Patience Grasshopper It will come. However, fighting off the seasoned new-comers to NASCAR from other top flight racing series will be no easy task. The bar just went astronomically higher.Rousch...with Mark Martin stepping out and heading over to the competition, who will lead the garage? Biffle? Kenseth? Neither of them strike me as a spokesman for their fellow drivers. Edwards...maybe. But who's gonna listen to him? MacMurray? Nope. Also, the deal for selling half the team to the Red Sox fell through when the head office decided to bid for that ritzy Japanese pitcher. Things don't look so good to me.Hendrick...smart move inviting Casey Mears on over. Well, that's all for now. No, I don't have comments about drivers in tuxes. They don't belong in them. I'll try to start blogging more consistently, but other endeavors have distracted me, and as I said, there wasn't a whole lot to be said again Catch ya later!

The day after...

2006-11-20T20:46:00.000-05:00

Thanks for leaving a comment, Stewartfan. I apologize for it not publishing...e-mail provider being stupid.

Well, here we are--the off-season. Good God! What do we do now? No engines revving, no pretty rainbows screaming around a track...just the abyss. Ugh.

Well, actually I'm kindof glad. This season was a whole lot of nothing stories, really. Denny Hamlin provided some entertainment by being the shining young gun. But otherwise, it was more about endings than wins. The end of Mark Martin's run in the #6, Dale Jarrett leaving the #88, Kenny Schrader silently slips into part-time with nary a word...the end of manufacturer provided sheet metal templates. The end of Detroit supremacy as Japan enters NASCAR. I can only hope this will be the end of carte blanche for cup teams in Busch.

The end...

But an end means somewhere there is a beginning. Something new. Hopefully something interesting.

Until January (yes, I watch testing in Daytona)

So...what's up?

2006-11-19T17:33:00.000-05:00

I've been remarkably quiet lately...so much to do! So little time ;-) Currently I'm waiting on a few things. I'm waiting to hear back from a publisher on my novella "The Shape of a Woman". I'm waiting to hear back from the judges for final placement in the Wallflower "Black Moment" Conest...my historical novel "The Forgotten Princess" was honored with finalist placement so far. I will be putting the final chapters on another novel "A Child of Uncertain Birth" over the next week or so. And of course, the holiday madness is about to take over. ACK. Hubby and I are also going over our photos from the past year for a special treat.

*waiting anxiously for Jimmie Johnson to win the Nextel Cup*

Later!

Crossing over...

2006-08-15T18:22:00.000-04:00

Upon arrival in Jackson, NH the first thing you have to do is cross a covered bridge. The bridge is red, wood and one lane wide. If you think you are bringing your 35ft. RV with duelly pick-up, cell phones and slick credit card life...you better think twice.

The bridge takes you into a village that is snapshot of New England as it has been for two-hundred years. Taverns, inns, little white churches and small shops for the locals.

The rush of the tourist laden traffic jam on Rte. 16 is instantly gone. You have crossed over... Enjoy yourself.

As time goes by...

2006-08-15T18:13:00.000-04:00

Hello! We just returned from a two-day get away to the White Mountains. It was like a moment out of time. We stayed at Eagle Mountain House, an historic inn located in Jackson, NH. Just down the mountain is the Jackson Falls.
Where vistas of the White Mountains combined with the never ending rush of the waters chasing the rocks down the slope.
And butterflies could stop to stoke up for their fall flight south.
And people can stop to dabble their toes in cold water and soak in the sun. No phones. No boom boxes. And not even a hot dog vendor to be found. Just an afternoon spent the way it was...and always should be.

I created a Slide Show! Check it out!

2006-08-06T03:56:00.000-04:00

Tennis Elbow?

2006-08-05T15:29:00.000-04:00

Don't know how or why, but there it is. It's most frustrating. And it impacts almost everything I do. Lifting a can of soda, putting my hair up in the morning, getting dressed...any motion that involves raising my right arm while holding something. I have a brace for my elbow and it helps to keep me from moving in a damaging manner.

Now it's time. Time to let the muscle inflammation go down and let the small tears in the muscles heal.

I hope it doesn't take too long, I miss writing my stories.

Later!

Have I said how much I love Carl Edwards?

2006-07-25T23:18:00.000-04:00

Nothing more needs to be said. Carl Edwards won. And I flipped! Well, he did...but I did, too.

Opening fly over for the Cup Race...

Whelan Modifieds and Busch at NHIS

2006-07-25T23:09:00.000-04:00

Teddy Christopher has a new ride this year...the #36. No more black #13...

Four wide racing...you won't find it in any other series at NHIS.
The end of the Whelan race was cut short by a blown tire on the #06.

Nearing the end of the Busch Race...#60 Carl Edwards is keeping an eager #21Kevin Harvick behind him.

Grand National Busch East race pics

2006-07-25T23:01:00.000-04:00

First we have John Salemi in the #15. Last year he was recognized by his peers for putting on a first class fight on a shoe-string budget. This day he crashed out :-(

The final race was between #44 Sean Caisse and #61 Mike Olsen. They traded paint for lap after lap.
As you can see, Mike took the checkers. Sean won the week before. Fantastic racing!

Racing at NHIS

2006-07-25T22:55:00.000-04:00

We've got Jeff Gordon and Jimmie Johnson taking their qualifying laps and the opening lap of the Grand National Busch East division...it's all good stuff!

It's a new car!!!

2006-06-29T20:17:00.000-04:00

I'm sure everybody who shops for a car goes through all the agony I do. Earlier this spring my 2000 Impala began to show signs of its age. I fixed the intake manifold, then I fixed the power steering belt (including tow), then came the rotors, the battery and alternator (another tow at 11:00PM on I495 in the rain). The service department let me know the tie rod ends were gone, Richard discovered a missing bolt on the sway arm and the A/C no longer spewed cold air. It did admirably with the hot...but no cold. Oh! And the fans fried a resistor pack. The blue car was telling me it was ready to retire.

After some soul searching I decided what I wanted to finance and discovered I wouldn't be looking at another Impala. It was most depressing. So I entered into the world of the Economy car. I test fitted a Toyota Corrolla, Honda Civic, Chevy Cobalt and Mazda M3. One salesman told me the smaller steering wheels would help me turn the car easier...I was pretty sure it was so I wouldn't hit my elbows on the doors. The high MPG ratings looked promising. But...but... I'm a car girl. You all know this! I have LOVED driving my V6 roomy Impala for the past seven years. Before that I puttered with 4-cylinder cars. Something was missing; a growl under the hood when I demanded a little more from the engine.

So this week when my Chevy dealer called to let me know that they were having a 0% Financing Sale this week, I saw my chance. Without paying a bank, it was possible to keep the little monster under the hood. So today we trotted down to the dealer, picked out a pretty red car and took her for a spin on the highway. Oh yeah. She was coming home.

2006 Chevrolet Impala LT. Sport Red. Ivory interior with lots of buttons for me to play with. The remote start was standard (So I don't have to walk out to a dark car at 2AM on Saturday nights) and this time cruise control was included as well. Oh! And it has a compass program that tells me to drive in circles to set it. Yeah, I'm chuckling. I will get to play with ONStar and decide if I will give up my ancient suitcase style cell-phone. It serves much the same purpose plus theft deterrent.

Well, there she is! And I'm a happy girl :-)

Love,
Sonya

I know it's been a while

2005-11-20T03:08:00.000-05:00

I've been a busy girl! I'm now published, like with a paying gig...but first people have to actually buy the story...anyway details!

"Fire and Water" is on sale at Ocean's Mist Press. It's a fantasy/erotica short story. So if you're underage or shy, don't go looking for it! ;-) How I ever actually got brave enough to submit to OMP, I'll never know. But, there it is.

Also! I've a new homepage! Check out the latest news on my musings at: http://sonyadgrady.com

And if you're dying to know what I'm thinking about in the NASCAR world check out NASCAR NOTES 2005. It's all new and snazzy with homemade graphics and photos from the track!

SpeedWorld on sale!

2005-06-24T18:54:00.000-04:00

Check out your local bookstore (the big ones like Barnes & Noble) for SpeedWorld Magazine with Jimmie Johnson's #48 on the cover. Inside you will find driver interviews and articles about your favorite teams. And most especially...in the SpeedRead section you will find an article "How NASCAR Saved Us $$" by S.D. Grady. That's me!I had to toot my horn and hope that you will give the magazine a shot. I'm already winding up to submit another article for the next issue due out in September.Catch ya'll later (after qualifying) ...

Want to see more?

2005-06-13T17:38:00.000-04:00

A few more photos of our weekend at Pocono and more NASCAR related entries are located @

http://spaces.msn.com/members/NASCAR-NOTES/

2005-06-13T17:35:00.000-04:00

Carl Edwards- the Winner!- during Practice

Sunday June 12, 2005

Raceday

Don’t go to the pits on Sunday at Pocono. We didn’t see anything. We stood nose to back with thousands of other fans trying to walk on pit lane. Rich and I shortly gave up trying to take photos of pit boxes, etc. and returned to the RV for lunch. I felt sorry for anybody on a guided tour, they wouldn’t have seen anything, either.

The race:

Our seats were at the entrance to pit road about five rows down from the Terrace Club. Not bad. We could see a decent amount of the track and the Nextel Vision definitely assisted us in watching the action. The benches are narrow with no backs. You can rent a cushioned seat with a back for $7.00. I dunno $80 and I need to spend more to sit marginally comfy? Gimme a break.

Carl Edwards! I got to watch him do a backflip! He definitely had the dominant car. He worked his way from the rear of the field, slowly eating up the competition. The other leaders, notably Vickers and Waltrip, drove away from the field. Edwards was the only one that actually caught the leader- three times over.

Maybe the new gear rules required some rookie mentality to figure it all out. Edwards was told repeatedly by his spotter to just stand on the pedal. That worked. When Vickers saw Edwards coming for the second time, he cried over the radio “How many times could I shift every lap and not hurt the engine?”

He was told, “Zero.”

There was a pause…he despondently replied, “Oh.”

The end of it all was staring him in the rear view mirror. This was Carl’s day.

Bad days…there were a few. Lil E’- had three tires go flat on him. His radio was awful silent after the first one caused him to lose the lead lap.

Tony Stewart, Ryan Newman, Ricky Rudd, Matt Kenseth, Kurt Busch, Scott Riggs all suffered various tire and engine maladies. Bobby Labonte’s Lap 199 crash was beyond cruel. Jason Leffler as well- none of that was anyone’s fault. Good video from the wreck, though.

Jeff Gordon. A 9th place finish was a hard day’s work. Impressive in its refusal to give up. Hendrick in general had a great day: Vickers 2nd, Busch 5th, Johnson 7th, Gordon 9th and even Terry Labonte 12th. If that isn’t dominance, I don’t know what is.

Vickers, Busch and Johnson had cars that were simply as good as where they finished. The entire day was spent generally in the same spot.

Biffle! How could I forget! His engine! Jimmie gets to keep his lead.

Tires…Goodyear said the cars were running too far down and the rumble strips were chewing up the front lefts. That’s supposedly why we say so many dramatic blow-outs. I guess we’ll see what happens when the Cup series returns to Pocono in a few more weeks.

Well, I guess that’s about it. Burgers are cooking and the traffic jam is on.

My ultimate decision: Pocono is well worth visiting. Watching the race here is no better or worse than other facilities I’ve visited. If you want up-close action, then visit a local track. But if you want to see the big boys, enjoy yourself in the Pocono mountains.

Shocking...to say the least

2005-06-13T17:29:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, after setting up, cooking supper and generally looking forward to the rest of the weekend, Mother Nature stuck her nose into the mix, again.In the form of a severe thunderstorm.

The clouds built for hours, looking black but skirting us to the south- away behind the Grandstands. Then it came. High winds, steady rain. We pulled down the awning (the pair of newlyweds down the way already had theirs blow over the top of the RV, bending parts and shattering a roof vent.) We generally secured the site. Then sat down.

Rich asked, “Do you think I should take down the flags?”Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. We agreed that now would not be a good time to do that. Water came down in sideways sheets (again), wind howled and the skies flickered. We lost sight of the grandstands. If you take a look at the attached photo, that’s pretty significant. We sat on our dinette listening to the torrents. Then a flash of light, a bang that reverberated in our skulls and a strange tingling sensation remained on my tongue.We looked at each other. Did we? Nah…we didn’t. Did we?

When the skies let up we poked our heads out of the trailer and about 5 neighbors were running over to us. Yes, apparently we did get hit.Our flag pole served nicely as the point of entry. Our trailer, I believe, served as an insulated cage for us, but the refrigerator propane ignition system and the AC/DC converter died. We found the ground of the bolt at the base of the DirecTV dish. The truck has an assortment of idiot lights on as well. I guess we’ll find out how crucial they are on Monday, on our way home. The neighbor’s air conditioning fried, as well.

Meanwhile, we are grateful, once again, for our little generator. It is keeping our food at least reasonably cold. We probably won’t be keeping up with racing stuff on the TV, though. *sigh* And we’ll be going to bed early, unless I manage a cheerful campfire for entertainment. Yep, I think we are really camping.

Pocono also has this silly idea that once you are in the infield, you stay for the weekend. They have a saying, “The only way out is in the back of an ambulance or a police cruiser.” It’s OK. We have enough gas to keep the generator running for a good deal of the time and I have books with me.

This morning, Mother Nature continued to tease us with fog. Again, the grandstands were nowhere to be seen. We doubted that practice would arrive. Jet dryers were deployed even as sprinkles continued to rain down. But the racing gods were here to cooperate today.

Seeing a race at Pocono:The grandstand is humungous! It runs almost the entire length of the straightaway. You will definitely need binoculars to see anything anywhere else on the track. You need binoculars just to see the other end of the front stretch!Watching the race from the infield: While it’s a neat idea, you won’t see much unless you have a platform on top of your RV. And even then, you’ll be following little ants in a circle for the majority of the day. However, for somebody who has never actually watched a race from the infield, it’s entertaining and unique. And you’ll be paying as much for infield access (or more) than if you bought the family grandstand tickets.

Pit/Paddock Access:OK. I have done this at Watkins Glen and Atlanta. It’s cool. Pay $30 and you’re allowed behind pit wall on pit lane while the cars practice. This is awesome! And Pocono has the Paddock Areas. These are wonderfully conceived in a manner that encourages fan access. The fenced Paddock areas are facing the Cup garages. You get to watch your favorite driver’s team get their car ready. Then there is the Paddock Alley. A perfect vantage from which to watch the cars come and go during practice and qualifying. Though I prefer pit road for qualifying.

Today, after returning from first Cup practice, an ARCA car smashed into the wall at the exit to Turn 3. Repairs had to be made to the wall. I found it amusing that we used to get out torches and lengths of guardrail when repairing the wall was needed. Today we toss large bits of pink Styrofoam around and off we go. Progress.

We’ll be watching the ARCA race tomorrow from our campsite. It’s plenty loud. Later!

Tadpoles and Sunshine

2005-06-08T15:20:00.000-04:00

We went driving down the scenic roads of the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area. At a picnic stop we climbed down to the river to see what would be seen. Tadpoles! By the thousands in the slow shallows. And some deer tracks. The air was heavy and hot. Shortly we climbed back in the truck and set out for some "park approved" overlooks.

This was disappointing. On Rte. 611 all the overlooks are now overgrown. Trees block any view of the river and the cliffs that form the Gap. It looks like the only way to see it is from the water. This is fine, its better for the river. But the overlooks should be taken off the tourist maps.

Tonight, sit by the pool and do some final grocery shopping for the track. Catch ya'll next week!
Delaware River near Delaware River Gap

Camelback Mountain

2005-06-07T17:39:00.000-04:00

As usual, Richard left the daily planning to me. I read about Camelback Mountain. There's an auto road that loops around the summit and a restaurant. We went. And as usual I wanted to do a little bit of hiking.

Now, I have this tendancy for choosing nearly vertical or extensive hikes. And considering that neither of us is in good shape, it normally results in a lot of moaning. Yesterday I did well with the waterfalls. Some stairs and climbing, but no backwoods adventures. I ran out of luck today.

The hike on the state park map indicated it was a 1.3 mile loop suitable for biking. It didn't say anything about ups and downs, except not to take the RED trail. This was the orange trail. I figured it couldn't be too bad. However, as the descent continued downward for more than fifteen minutes, I started to worry. Then there were the rocks, large boulders really. And the moss covered, leaf covered slopes. We weren't complaining until we reached the bottom of the loop and started back up.... I suppose I've never mountain biked, so I just don't understand how that was a bike path.

Besides all that, the view was well worth it, if hazy. The Pocono Mountains lay beneath us in all directions in a dense green carpet. White fluffy clouds slowly crossed the sky, earning our forgiveness for the intense thunderstorms of last night. Birds and chipmunks skittered nearby. Fairly bucolic.

And finally. The mountain laurel is nearly blooming everywhere. Next week it will be a bright infusion of pink and white amidst the green scrub oaks.

Ants- everywhere there were ants. We stopped at one anthill to watch the army trying to shove a thick white grub down the hill. The grub didn't want to go. A tortuous death for sure.

After the hike, we were ready for lunch. Except the summit restaurant was closed...we ended up getting some pizza in town. Great Stuff. Look for Amici's Pizza when in Tannersville.
Mountain Laurel on top of Camelback Mountain 06/07/05

Moss Covered Ravine

2005-06-06T17:59:00.000-04:00

Today, with thunderstorms threatening for the late afternoon, we set out for something fun and short to do. We found Bushkill Falls. As you can see, beautiful. We chose the moderate trail and the stairs were plenty challenging.

The deep ravine is covered in rhododendron, moss, lichen, ferns and Spruce. It reminded us of walking through those "tropical islands" in some of the larger zoos. The roar of the falls was broken only by the purr of a generator. Repairs were being made on the many man-made bridges and stairways that make this point of interest accessible to the usual tourist.

For the stout hiker, there is a path that leads up to another set of falls. We didn't take the challenge.

With temps in the high 80's and thick humidity, we were puffing after two hours of exploration. We wanted to find lunch. We stopped at a local "diner". It was really nothing more than a bar. A few regulars were taking a liquid lunch while we munched on our sandwiches.

The rains arrived. Lots of wind and sideways sheets of water. The lights flickered repeatedly. The bartender lady got a call her house had lost power. We figured the campground would be in similar straights. That's OK. We brought the Lord of the Rings and a generator for rainy day entertainment.

We saw another live deer today. That's 2. I hope we balance the sheet by the end of the week.
Bushkill Falls, PA

An afterthought

2005-06-06T17:54:00.000-04:00

A little bit later…

There was this strange boom. Maybe somebody shot the bagpipe player…

Another boom. That must be the bagpipes.

Mount Vista Campground- Poconos

2005-06-06T17:52:00.000-04:00

The sun has set over the woods of the Pocono Mountains and one of our RV neighbors is playing the Flintstones on his bagpipes…need I say more?

This has been the first true weekend of the Summer; meaning the sun was actually shining and the temperature climbed into the 80’s. Surely a good omen for our vacation. We left Haverhill about 10:30 this morning and headed west. The still new Chevy Silverado Duramax Diesel handled the Appalachian Mountains and Pocono Mountains without a thought. Why we ever thought that the little Dodge Dakota could pull a trailer…I guess we were wishing.

Oh deer…

As the miles flew by we saw more roadkill than ever before. By the time we turned onto Rte. 402 in Pennsylvania we counted 6 dead deer on the side of the road. In my experience, a dead deer is usually no more than an ugly puddle of blood in the road. These poor creatures had all been flung to the breakdown lane in one piece. I was thinking it must be a population explosion to see this many expired deer.

Finally we turned into the campground and saw a live deer nibbling on the edge of the woods. I guess this is a good place. The deer are alive.

Our cell phone doesn’t work out here. It’s 40 miles to the interstate and the town is so small it boasts one of those General Store/Hunting License/Post Office/Luncheonette/Propane and Gifts stores. I’m looking forward to poking my nose into it. The bullfrogs are making noise in the pond and they apparently share it with several koi “THIS BIG”. I saw a wild turkey. We’re waiting for the stars to come out.

We keep looking for things to do around here…but we’ve almost settled on doing not much of anything for the next couple days. We lost the radio broadcast of the race running in Dover somewhere in New York and finally lost all radio in the Delaware State Forest. The frogs make for good background noise, though.

Richard discovered some Lemon Diet Coke at the local grocer…maybe this is the last of it in the area. The flavor was discontinued in Massachusetts.

More updates tomorrow! With photos, I’m sure. On the agenda for Monday: Find a propane distributor that doesn’t do the tank exchange. Other than that, a dip in the pool and staring at some trees…nothing too demanding.

Don't Forget About Me!

2005-05-04T19:54:00.000-04:00

Like I could. This is Betty. Betty will not be ignored, unless she wants to be.

While Emerson stole my heart at first site, Betty had to try a little harder. She came home because the tiger kitten in the bin with Emerson was already sold. We brought her home so Emerson would have a friend. She was supposed to be hubby's cat, since Emerson was obviously mine. Betty had other plans.

Two weeks after coming home with us, the kittens had been given the run of the house. I was comfortably ensconced on the couch crocheting. This meant entirely wrapped up in my oversized red bathrobe with only my head and hands showing.

Betty bounced into the room. Sort of like Tigger, that's how she arrived, bouncing. She walked over to me and meowed. It's not the sweet little "I love you" meh that Emerson excels at. It's a "Hey! I think you left me alone and I don't like that" yowl. I would say, "Hi, Betty." And she would yell again. It became a game. At length she tired of the conversation and climbed onto the couch (yes using all available claws). Her motor was on full throttle. She purred in my ear, then put a paw ever so lightly on my arm. Her head moved under my throat. The next paw encroached. Eventually she wormed her way into the bathrobe and fell asleep in the sleeve (I did say it was oversized).

To this day, if the red bathrobe does not have me in it, it usually has a cat on it. Getting all the cat fur out is a lost battle. However, Betty won hers. We still have a lengthy conversation upon my return from work. Now it includes tricks; waving of paws, standing on hind feet, head butting my knees and standing on any box or stool to give her better eye contact. But she knows, I haven't forgot my Betty.

Comfort and friendship

2005-05-04T19:32:00.000-04:00

Emerson. That's his name. Actually, sometimes he's referred to as "Smudge". You can see why.

We met at the pet store across the road. He walked up to the edge of the bin, put his tiny paws on the side, looked at me and quite clearly said, "Meh!" I smiled, picked him up and he immediately collapsed into my arms, purring like a sewing machine. I couldn't budge him. What else could I do besides bring him home?

That was, by the way, one of the loudest meows ever extracted from him. (Except by the vet. He yowled then!)

His name was decided because he never had that kittenish, gangly, clutzy look about him. He has always sat perfectly upright, his fluffy tail wrapped tightly around his feet, his fur never in a tangle and viewed the world with an air of wisdom and decorum. I had to find a name befitting such an obviously with it cat. So I turned to my mentors in life and named him after the great writer and orator, Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Eight years later, he still maintains an impeccable coat, a sleek fit body and comes to purr on my lap. I will forgive him the "let's hide in the shadows! Mom'll trip on us!" games. The "I'll sleep in Mom's bathrobe" ploys and the thoroughly irritating, "I can't touch the cat litter" deal.

Mostly because when I come home, he walks right up to me and says quite clearly, "Meh!" Which interpreted is, "It's my friend! And I'm so glad she's home."

The Knight's Chapter 7

2005-04-23T15:27:00.000-04:00

Chapter 7

Jared stared down at the bloody mass of Harry. His ears rang with the fire of the battle. He didn’t feel the new cuts, bruises and scratches yet. He never did until later; when the roaring calmed and he could feel once again the beating of his own lifeblood in his veins.

The gravel behind him crunched.

“Who goes there!” he demanded as he spun, sword poised to counter an attack.

Socrates blinked in the flickering firelight, nodded his head and issued a soft whuffle.

Jared sighed. The girl was perched upon the horse’s back; her head snuggled against the neck, her hands clasped fiercely to the mane.

Safe! He thought for a moment. Socrates nudged his shoulder, his feed bag dangling at an awkward angle. Jared removed the sack and walked back towards the fire. Socrates followed at his heels. Only then did he see the other attacker.

Mick sat in a huddle, trying to be invisible against the boulders. His shoulder looked decidedly askew. Of course the blood dripping from his just below his left eye did nothing for his appearance.

Jared looked down at his feet. A long, curved dagger gleamed against the trampled snow. He picked it up, studying the well crafted blade paying particular attention to the runes etched in the metal. He eyed the miserable man.

“Not just simple thieves, were you?” he said as he tilted the blade to catch the light of the fire, a knowing glint in his eye. “Nobody carries the blade of The Lady by mistake. Why attack us? I’m no man of the King. Even my mount bears the Dragon’s Eye.”

Socrates sidled so that his blanket was illuminated in the firelight. The fiery red eye of the Dragon’s Hoard was picked out in luminous thread. Most men would steer clear of such a blatant display of piracy.

Mick gritted his teeth, clearly considering what he might tell his captor. Socrates walked closer, his massive body overshadowing the cowering brigand. Mick’s eyes darted about him, searching for possible escape. He shifted his weight carefully, returning his gaze to Jared’s hard stance.

Jared shook his head, “I wouldn’t even try it,” as he tossed the dagger in the air, reflexively catching it in a throwing hold. “All those years at sea, I had plenty of time to practice throwing a dagger. The Lady’s steel would end this night in your skull.”

Mick paled. “I reckon I believe you,” he croaked as he settled back on his heels.

Jared crept closer to the cretin. “Now, hows about some plain talking, my good man,” he stated in a low, calm voice.

The brigand swallowed several times. “It wasn’t you we was coming for.”

Jared smiled a crooked, evil grin. “I guess you’re gonna be telling me it’s me horse you’re wanting.”

“Nay!” the man squeaked as his own blade was put against his throat. “Tis the girl! She’s not what you think! The Lady’s wantin’ her dead.”

Jared did not let the dagger waver as he looked sideways at Julia still passed out on Socrates. He turned back to his captive, “I suggest you try again, mate. She’s nothing but a bit of baggage. A penniless orphan of your Lady’s war.”

Mick attempted to shake his head, only to find the sharp blade nicking his chin. Sucking in a sharp breath of pain, “Even you she’s bewitched! She’s the last remaining member of the Royal family save the King. And his health fails even as we speak.”

“You lie!” Jared growled, pressing harder.

Panic entered the man’s eyes as the blade crushed his throat.

Jared eased off. Truth reflected plainly in Mick’s eyes. At the very least the man believed what he had been told. Jared stood, considering his next move for only moments.

He walked to Socrates, rummaged in the saddle pack and located a bit of rope. As a second thought he also grabbed a handkerchief. In short order, the brigand was bound and gagged and left near the dying embers of the fire. Jared packed up the campsite and mounted behind Julia.

As a farewell he growled at the miserable wretch, “When you free yourself of my bindings, you might want to be burying your friend. He died an honorable death at my sword.” He then kneed Socrates forward into the cold, starless night.

The Knight's Chapter 6

2005-04-06T21:54:00.000-04:00

The Knight
Chapter 6

The wind sent a chill down Julia’s spine as she huddled in the flickering light of the meager campfire. Jared had declared the spot in the lee of two boulders the best they could do for shelter for the night. Socrates stood on the other side of the fire ring, his bulky body blocking the worst of the breeze. The pirate lounged against one of the boulders as he sharpened his dagger. His sword lay between them in its worn scabbard.

Julia looked into the sky. The silent stars mocked her. For an entire summer she had lived alone in the tiny cabin, praying that the war would not knock on her door. It never had. In fact, nobody had. Just a horse.

And now that she was in the company of another person, she didn’t know what to say. She shivered a bit more. Socrates nickered softly.

“Cold, are ya?” the pirate asked.

Julia nodded. He went to Socrates, rummaged in the saddle pack and pulled out a large woolen blanket. Without a word he walked to Julia, sat down close to her and wrapped the blanket around the two of them.

Julia stopped breathing. The pirate chuckled.

“Not to worry, lass. I haven’t a mind to strip down in the middle of a snowbank. Just sit close, and we’ll keep warm enough.”

Julia’s neck snapped around to glare at the pirate. Only to meet that wicked, black, laughing smile.

“Disappointed, are you?” he teased.

“Not in the least.” She huddled a little deeper into the blanket, her shoulder rubbing against his.

“Should be.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” the question escaping her lips before she thought.

Jared shrugged as he settled himself a little. “I figured with all that pretty blonde hair, the sweetest green eyes and a round little figure, you’d have had plenty of offers.”

Julia gaped for several moments. She struggled to decide if she should be insulted or preening over the obvious complement. Finally a blush settled over her features, “No man has ever asked for my hand. Da rather scared them off.” She swallowed as tears threatened.

“Then the right man didn’t ask.” Jared reached into his surcoat and extracted a bag. He opened the sack and began munching on some nuts. In companionable silence he offered the treat.

Julia accepted.

“What will become of me in the city?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Durned if I know. The Sisters at the Chapel will know the right of it, I expect. I hear they take in maids without prospects from time to time.”

Julia thought about that. It didn’t seem too bad. The Sisters were known to be charitable and kind to all people throughout the land. Perhaps she would be found a position as a maid in a fine house or as a governess. Maybe in the city she would even be able to find a husband to support her.

The warmth of Jared’s body seeped through the many layers of cloak, shawl and dress. Her eyes drooped. She didn’t hear his low laugh as she toppled into his lap.

***

Julia’s eyes snapped open as a rough hand covered her mouth.

“Nary a whisper, luv,” an oily voice grated in her ear.

Instinctively striking out, she found her arms held tightly to her sides by the unseen assailant. She stared down at the blanket. The pirate was not asleep. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Not to worry, luv. Your man just went to take a leak. Me friend’s keepin’ him company.” The voice tickled at her ear.

The man was a monster, judging by the bulk that held Julia from behind. Terror cleared her mind quickly. She looked across the fire at Socrates. The horse chewed at his feedbag, blinking idly at Julia. She squirmed and kicked at the shins of her captor.

“None of that, luv!” he commanded as his arms became bands of steel around her chest.

Hysteria began to eat at her thoughts. Her breath came is short gasps. Knowing control was key to her survival, Julia sagged against the man and let her head hang. His hand still kept her silent. Julia felt her cheeks bruising. The pain calmed her fear and fed her anger.

Sounds of a distant fight could be heard. Julia listened closely. Grunts, moans, gasps, the slap of flesh on flesh all echoed over the boulders. Julia blinked when she realized there was no ring of the clash of steel. Keeping her head down she searched the rumpled bed. She could just see the hilt of Jared’s sword under the blanket.

Socrates whuffled as Jared was pushed into the ring of light. The horse’s head slewing to take in his owner’s rumpled state.

His right eye was swelling shut and blood trickled down his cheek where the brigand’s glove connected. Julia did not notice Jared limping.

“What ‘cha got, Harry?” Julia’s captor asked.

“Seems like this here pirate was havin’ hisself a little holiday!” Harry leered as he kicked Jared.

Jared sprawled next to the fire, his hands bound with crude rope. He spared only a moment’s glance at Julia before erupting.

Jared rolled to the left as he grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands. He brought the weapon up in a wide sweeping arc as he gained his feet. The swing was awkward, but effective. Harry, caught off guard, jumped back even as he pulled a dagger from inside his jerkin. Jared and Harry began circling each other. Socrates backed up to give the combatants more room.

“Now see here, we’s got your woman,” Harry talked as he sized up his opponent. “I could have Mick there cut her throat.”

Jared sneered, “Alive or dead, she’s worth about the same to me.”

Julia sucked in a sharp breath. She was going to die! She bit down on the hand in her mouth.

“Bloody hell!” Mick cried.

Julia danced away from him only to trip over the blanket. Desperate, she rolled away, even as a boot connected with her ribs. She cried out in pain. Jared’s sword sang as it connected with Harry’s dagger. Socrates whinnied.

Pain, panic, and anger filled Julia’s thoughts. Scrabbling at rock, dirt, blanket, cloaks; she searched for a weapon. Her hand found a crust of bread. Then the small knife she used to cut it. A hand wrapped around her ankle and pulled.

“I won’t go!” she growled. Even as she was hauled back towards Mick, she kicked out with the other foot. Mick swore some more. Julia swiped at her attacker with the knife.

A cry of pain rent the air.

“The little bitch cut me!” Mick yelled.

The swordfight continued.

Julia rolled onto her back. Mick loomed over her. His face dripped blood as the firelight cast evil shadows over it. He held a long, curved dagger over her. Julia screamed as she realized her end had come.

In the next instant she blinked. Mick was gone. Then a large nose “whoofed” in her face. Socrates’ large brown eyes blinked.

Julia looked for Mick. He groaned in a semi-conscious state piled against the boulders a good six feet away. He held his hand against his ribs.

Socrates nodded.

Julia grabbed at his bridle and scrambled onto his back.

A man’s mortal scream sounded.

Socrates turned towards the scene of the sword fight. A single man stood over a corpse. Julia gasped, then realizing that it was excruciating to breathe. She tried a deeper breath. The man’s form blurred as he turned towards her. Circles of light argued with black spots.

Julia wilted, hoping it was the right man that won.

It's a surprise every year.

2005-04-05T17:51:00.000-04:00

It's only a hint of green, in the final weeks of March. A small shoot here and there in the yard. And then April comes with softer days and nights that don't curl your toes. It's lighter and brighter. You smile as you drive home from work thinking there just might be enough energy in you to work in the yard a bit. You grab the rake, the gloves and the clippers. You pull back the layer of leaves left from Autumn's final winds and discover...a whole new world waking up.

It amazes me every year how much hides just out of sight until April. The trees are still brown. The grass is still ragged. But look! Really look. The whole world was waiting for this one day, and it can't wait anymore.

As you can see, the crocus are blooming. Daffodils, tulips, sedum, iris, lilies, bleeding hearts, astors, daisies, pennywort, vinca, violets and endless other unnamed wonders were only waiting for me to pull away the dead to let the young and new try their wings.

The other thing that happens as I smile at my forgotten but newfound friends is my mind wanders. I'll try to think of practical things. But that is not what the garden lends itself to. Instead, flights of fancy tug at my brain. My fingers itch to share those whimsical thoughts. And I come back into the house to write.

Such is Spring. A fount of energy and promise. It would be derelict of me to pass by the opportunity.

Happy days!

I figured it out!

2005-03-31T22:09:00.000-05:00

Well, that only took two days. But there it is! A picture. Possibly of My Domain. Possibly of your dreams. And now that I know how, I'll be able to pretty up my posts more often. Ain't that cool!

And finally Chapter 5

2005-03-30T21:56:00.000-05:00

A Knight Without the Shining Armor
Chapter 5

“Well, let’s see,” Jared pondered for a moment before beginning his tale. “I guess I’ll have to tell you a bit to have this all make sense.”

You see, I’m on a quest, of sorts.”

“Oh?”

He nodded, shifting her in his arms, looking for a more comfortable arrangement. “Aye. I needed something to pay back my captain for savin’ my skin the last time out. He suggested that The Maryellen would recompense him for the loss of his ship.”

“The Maryellen?” Julia questioned.

Jared sighed. “There’s so much to this tale, it’s hard to decide where to begin.” He looked down at the girl in his arms, “You wanted to know about Socrates. I’ll tell you that. I’ll save the tale of The Maryellen for another day. Bargain?”

Julia craned her neck around. The pirate blinked. She smirked, “As it looks like our travels will take some time, it’s a bargain.”

“Our party had just arrived in Port Orin. Things bein what they were at the moment, I hung back from the captain, waiting for him to head towards his chosen lodging house. I thought it best that I choose a different one, seeing as he was a bit irate over the loss of his ship, the Sarajane. I figured apologies could be made in the morning.”

He paused as Socrates navigated a steep, gravel covered slope. Once the horse was on even footing again, Jared resumed his narrative.

“Well, I wandered up the hill away from the docks looking for a hospitable establishment. I noticed a dray standing on the cobbles. You could say I noticed the beer kegs on the dray,” he chuckled. “Socrates here was hitched to that wagon. His master came out of a shop carrying a keg and tossed it on that old battered cart. I guess it was one times too many for that cart, though. The axle gave way under the extra weight.”

Jared paused.

“Well, go on!” Julia pleaded.

Sure of his audience, Jared continued, “The beer went everywhere! A river of golden ale poured down the hill towards the docks. I guess you could say there was quite a to do then. Sailors and workmen chased after the treat with mugs, cups and anything else they might scoop a bit o’ refreshment up with.” Jared chuckled at the memory.

“Socrates here, clever fella that he is, simply waited for his master to set things back to right. I offered my assistance in rolling the kegs out of the street. I mean, there would probably be a small liquid reward if I ingratiated myself to the poor man.” Jared sucked in a heavy breath. “But that man didn’t know help when he saw it. He cursed his poor luck, declared the end of his business and walked away. Just walked off!”

Jared shook his head. “Can you imagine? There were still ten or so kegs that had not been breeched. As far as I could see, his business was still a good thing. Well, there is that old saying, isn’t there? About gift horses? I sold the good kegs to a nearby tavern, at a fairly reduced rate and took Socrates to the nearest stable. He weren’t nothing more than a dusty, grey animal. But the hostler, he cleaned my boy up nicely and gave him an extra feeding of oats. Damned if this here horse didn’t smile at me the next morning when I asked his if he felt like going on a quest.” Jared slapped Socrates’ neck fondly.

Julia stared at the horse. “So, you stole him.”

“What? Didn’t you listen? His master walked off! What was I to do?” Jared blinked.

“Take him back to his rightful master.”

Jared clucked his tongue. “Can’t you see that that don’t make any sense, Miss? He would be owned by a man with no means to care for him, since the business was a bust. This means that brewer’s burden is lightened. He doesn’t need to feed this fine steed anymore.”

Julia crossed her arms. “He could have sold Socrates and fed himself with the proceeds.”

Unable to stop, Jared bickered back, “Then he shouldn’t have left such a useful asset alone on the street at the docks. Heck, miss, if I didn’t take him somebody else would’ve made glue out of him.”

Julia sat silent. The pirate’s logic nearly made sense. Except that Socrates really did belong to some poor man in Orin. She stewed as the horse continued on its way.

Jared remained silent as well.

Finally Julia could bear it no longer, “Do you steal things often?”

“Stealing is such a negative word.”

“Well?” Julia would not be put off.

“A pirate looks at it as the proper reallocation of assets.”

“Proper? How could it be proper?”

Jared grimaced. Arguing with idealists was not his strong point. “Well, as in things get to where they will be used and appreciated.” He smiled. She surely couldn’t argue that point.

A scowl colored her cheeks, “Have I been ‘properly reallocated’?”

Jared ran his hand through his hair. He seemed to remember his father sayin’ as how arguing with a woman was a good waste of a man’s day. He grumbled, “I’m working on that. Now hush.”

She sat silent for some time. At long last the tension flowed from her shoulders. Jared tried to get a look at her face, to fathom what she was thinking about now. She shrugged to loosen his grip on her. “I’m hungry.”

Jared sighed. The road to Ritrain would be long and tiresome. He only hoped he would be able to “reallocate” the chit when they arrived in the city.

Chapter 4

2005-03-30T21:55:00.000-05:00

The Knight Chapter 4

Julia pulled at the dry meat. Meat! She swiped her cheek as she chewed with singular concentration. The porridge had been forgotten. Only after she swallowed the last bite did she look up.

The giant glowered across the table.

“When was the last meat you had?” His voice a near whisper.

Julia gulped, her throat dry she reached for the bowl that held the drinking water. She considered hiding her desperation. She peeked out from her hair. She didn’t think those shrewd pewter eyes would believe her.

“I ate the last of the horse more than a month ago.”

He continued to glare.

“The crops were taken by the armies. I haven’t anything left. Thank you for your generosity.”

He grimaced. In the light of the day Julia watched him carefully. Her initial perception of a knight of the King’s Army bravely deposited by his steed on her doorstep had withered. Now she saw more than she cared to. Fearing that he would sense her trepidation she kept the conversation going, “And you? I’ve never heard of a pirate riding a horse in a landlocked land. What would you be looking to plunder?”

He waved off the query. “What of your family?”

“It was only me and my da. Ma died some while ago, I guess it’s been years now. Da had to go with the Army. That was Spring.”

Both diners looked out at the pristine blanket of snow that covered the flood plain of the Great River Sain.

“What were you to do if I didn’t feed you today?”

She shrugged. “I guess I would have trapped a rabbit or maybe shot a crow. I can get along.”

She stood, collecting the few remains of their meal and carried them to the pantry area in the corner. After wiping the bowls down she neatly stacked them on the shelf. She could feel him continuing to stare at her.

“I have been wondering about the War, though.” She bravely stated. “You clearly met some soldiers. Do you know who is winning?”
His eyes closed. He hung his head over his fists clasped on the table top. “Lay, lass. There was no winner on that field. It seemed to me that I was the only one breathing at the end of the day. I couldn’t begin to say who the victor was.”

Julia looked again into the blinding day. “Was it far?” She shook, thinking perhaps Da had been close. A sheath of steel slid over her spine. “I will go today.”

The pirate only glared some more. He eventually stated, “I will carry you on Socrates.”

***

It simply wasn’t a sight that Julia ever imagined could be real. Socrates stood on a rise over the battlefield not a mile from her cabin. The snow softened the shapes on the ground. A shadow swept over the observers. Julia looked up to see a large bird circle over the carnage. It glided down, settling on an awkward shape. Far in the recesses of her mind, Julia thought it might be a leg.

The white snow was broken every few feet by black spots, the blood frozen as it puddled. Horseflesh lie strewn about with the human. It stretched beyond the horizon. Julia shuddered. The countless bodies…she shook her head. The only way to know was to see.

As Socrates picked his slow way down into the stinking field, Julia became aware that their trio were not the only living beings looking through the bodies. Her neighbors moved methodically from man to man. Minutes later Julia gasped.

“What is it?” the pirate asked.

“They don’t have any sons in the army.”

The pirate nodded his understanding. Every man did odd things in odd times. The wealth of past battles lay on the bodies of the slain. “Your neighbors will need the pillage to survive until the next harvest. These men will never miss the gold, now.”

Julia turned her head away for only a moment before accepting the evil truth.

The sun rose high into the sky before she found what she feared she would. The sun set as she wept over the beaten and bloodied body of her Da.

The pirate stood over her, his arms crossed and his brow wrinkled. Whether he liked it or not, Jared was now the protector of a young lass. He sighed.

***

Julia awoke in the small hours of the dawn, as she always did. The fire burned brightly in the fireplace. The pirate rummaged through her wardrobe, placing warm clothes on the table. His saddle bag on the floor lay open.

“What are you doing?” Julia ran across the room, trying to close the wardrobe.

The pirate merely forced the door open again. “I’m packing the things you’ll need.”

“Why do I need anything? This is my home!” she leaned her entire body against the panel as she reached for her shawl in his hands. “You pirate! You can’t take those.”

He stopped for a moment. “But you can’t stay here.”

Julia blinked. “Why not?”

“You’ve no food, no family and no neighbor will take you in. They’re starving, too.”

Julia thought furiously, trying to come up with something. She merely sputtered.

“You will be coming with me.” His huge hands settled on her shoulders and moved her to the side. “I have enough in my pack to feed us until we make Ritrain. Perhaps you can find a job there.”

“I can’t go with you.” Her denial was final.

“Why not?”

She lifted her hands and began counting on her fingers, “One, I don’t know your name. Two, you are a pirate and as such I have no inclination of putting myself under your protection,” the derision in her voice could not be avoided. “Three,” she paused, “Three…”

“Yes?” he asked eagerly.

“I’m thinking!” she crossed her arms.

He continued to empty the wardrobe. “My name is Jared, sometimes known as Jared the Black, depending on the waters I am in. I am a pirate through misadventure, as it was that or die.” He paused his packing and turned back to her. “It seems you have a similar decision before you.”

A mutinous glower was the best she could do.

“Do you want to die, lass?”

She shook her head.
“Then you’re coming with me.”

They closed the door to the cabin at mid-day. Julia sat before Jared on the great horse, Socrates. She thought that though her parents were dead, her life was just getting interesting.

They turned to the south and crossed over the River Sain as the sun dipped below the horizon. The horse continued to plod on tirelessly. Julia fought to remain awake. Desperate for distraction she begged a story, “Where did you get Socrates? Surely a pirate does not keep a horse on his ship?”

Jared merely paused before beginning…

Chapter 3 for the Knight

2005-03-30T21:52:00.000-05:00

The dull light of dawn cast the cabin in shades of gray. Julia stretched and listened. The knight was snoring. The last coals of the fire sizzled, smoke hanging heavy in the room. Wind? There was no wind.

“Thanks be for the small things,” she muttered. She rolled over, the boards biting into her back. Now that she was awake, the pervasive cold ate into her flesh. The shawl and horse blanket provided poor protection from the night.

She stood and peered down at him. His large frame overflowed the small cot.

“Pity you had to use it. It doesn’t fit you.”

After tucking her one good quilt around his giant body last night, Julia had tried to ignore him. Her fear of the large warrior fought with the desperate need to talk to someone—anyone! Now in the light of day, she remained torn. She knew it would be best to wake him up and send him on his way with his odd horse. He snuffled and tossed. Even in his sleep he sounded fearsome.
Her stomach growled. “Yes, I know,” she informed it. “I have a little left. It’ll be enough for today.” She set about freshening the fire and setting a kettle to boil. The sack of oats lay limp in the corner. But there was enough for one last meal. She poured the contents into a pot.

A small trap hung over the mantle. “Maybe I can find a rabbit or two,” she wished aloud.

The boards creaked behind her. She turned to meet her unwanted guest. He towered over her, but he no longer weaved on his feet.

“Where’s Socrates?” he demanded.

“What?”

“The horse. Where’d you put him?” He scratched at his chest.

Julia turned back to the fire, stirring her breakfast. “I sent him out back to the shed.”

“mmmrph,” was the only word he replied with.

Julia stirred the porridge some more. More than it needed. She was nervous. He grunted and there was some stomping as he put on his boots. The door opened and closed.

Julia cast a glance at the cot. His armor and steel were still there. He hadn’t left. He had only went to see to his horse.

As the cabin warmed, she cracked open the shutter of the small window next to the door, letting more light into the room. Brilliant sun poured in. His surcoat sat in a splash of morning light.
Thinking she could now determine the crest on it, she lifted the heavy wool garment.

“Is it a hart? Or a gryphon?” she asked nobody in particular, angling the surcoat in the sunshine.

“It’s a dragon.”

Julia dropped the garment as she spun to meet the stranger’s questioning gaze.

He smiled a very crooked and wicked smile as he pulled a heavy gold chain from beneath his tunic.

Julia swallowed. She closed her eyes, wishing she would not see the pendant that would surely be dangling from it. Knowing the moment of truth was at hand, she opened one eye.
A gold coin swung from the chain. Pressed into the pendant was a golden dragon entwined about a sword. A ruby glittered from the beast’s eye.

He was even worse than an enemy soldier.

“I saved a bloody pirate,” she whispered.

His grin deepened. “Aye, that you did, my dear. Lucky for you, I’m a well-fed pirate.” With his other hand, he held a small sack of dried meat out to his hostess. “Why don’t we sit for a bit and introduce ourselves?”

And Chapter 2

2005-03-30T21:50:00.000-05:00

A Knight’s Chapter Two

Julia closed the door on the swirling snow and the curious steed. The gloom of the evening settled once again over the tiny cabin, the only light coming from the fire. She shivered once before turning to the unmoving man on her floor. She nudged him with her shoe. He didn’t even moan.

“What am I to do now?” she wondered at her guest. The cold crept under the door catching at her ankles. “Right,” she complained to the night and set about doing what she was doing before being interrupted by—she looked over her shoulder—a very unnerving thing. She shoved the braided rugs against the bottom of the door and fed pieces of flannel into the larger cracks between the boards of the rough door. Only when she was confident she could detect no further drafts did she worry about the man on the floor.

“Come on then,” she shook him roughly. “I can’t help you up by myself. Your armor weighs more than I do!”

He groaned.

The snow had melted into his surcoat, leaving it a dark blue stained here and there by…Julia closed her eyes on the thought. Of course men bled on the battle field. She knew that! But why did that blood have to be in her cabin?

Forcing her mind back to the matter at hand she tried to remember what colors were associated with what knights in The King’s army. She was sure Father had mentioned it before he left… His voice came back to her, “Remember, my precious Jules, green is for His Majesty’s archers, red for his guard and brown with gold braid for the Royal Cavalry. Any other color, you must be cautious of. The Lady’s men are not known for their chivalry!”

She looked closer. The blood covered the crest on his chest. A knight of the Realm might wear his own colors, but the crest would show where his loyalty lay for certain.

Julia shook the man harder. He groaned louder.

There was nothing for it. She couldn’t go to sleep with an unconscious man on her floor. She walked over to her small pantry and took a dipper of precious water. “You’re wet anyway,” she explained to the man before pouring it on his face.

Jared sputtered, waving away the annoying drips of water. It must be raining, his foggy brain informed him. He turned over and reached for the accustomed warmth of Socrates. However, the flow of water increased and a shod foot prodded his leg. Years of campaigning woke him with a start. He sat up, his dagger in his hand as he tried to focus on his enemy.

Julia jumped back, the heavy sword she took from his side scraping the floor. “Goodness me!” she squeaked.

Jared blinked several times as he attempted to decide which of the seven or eight men in front of him was armed with his sword. He made the decision to move now and question later, settling on the most solid form to his left. The dagger flashed left in a feint designed to make his target move. When it did, he tackled the man.

The man screamed.

The fog cleared immediately from Jared’s mind. “Blessed be, you’re a girl!”

She looked at him, quite scared out of her wits he thought. Only when she turned an alarming shade of blue did he realize that he was squashing the air out of her. However, she was still hanging onto his sword.

“Just give that little toy to me, me dear, and then we’ll talk.” He pressured her fingers to release the weapon. She gave without much of a fight. His mail probably bruised he thought with a grimace.

He stood up. “Where the blazes did that horse leave me now?”

The girl lay on the floor gasping. Looking down at her, Jared felt dizzy. He spied a small cot behind him and sat abruptly. While the girl collected herself, he proceeded to carefully remove his gauntlets, surcoat, boots and mail shirt as he took stock of his injuries. While his ribs ached abominably, the worst pain resided in his head.

Reaching up, Jared found a goose egg behind his ear. His hair was sticky and wet. Fighting back a wave of nausea he asked, “Who got me?”

The girl heaved herself up on her elbows and glared at him. “It looks like I do.”

Jared stared at her for a moment, wondering why she would be so angry about that. Then passed out again.

For lack of anything better to do...

2005-03-30T21:39:00.000-05:00

Having decided that I haven't a clue what to do with this blog, I've decided to simply use it as a place to put a story that I'm working on. The title? "A Knight Without the Shining Armor". It's not supposed to be particularly clever, or well edited or earth shattering. It's something to keep my muse motivated until I can focus on my more formal works. So, sit back and enjoy!

A Knight Without the Shining Armor
Chapter 1

The wind howled. The view out the window was no more than a white canvas, a blank piece of paper for Julia’s mind to fill with daydreams and nightmares. With the power out and no school, there was nothing else to occupy her active imagination. She began painting on the snowflakes in the dull afternoon light…

There should be a knight on a horse, she thought. However, he should not be riding atop a white horse. It would get lost in the snow. How about a bay. Bay was a pretty horse color. And the knight…well he should be tall (of course) and strong and maybe hurt. Yes! He’s hurt. Maybe the knight needs rescuing! Oh that would be a good way to pass the afternoon, rescuing a knight.

Julia settled back in the oversized wing chair, smiling, and told herself a story.

Jared sagged in the saddle as his sturdy steed, Socrates, picked his slow way through the blizzard. Jared couldn’t remember when the wind wasn’t howling. It had been screaming for an eternity, it seemed. At least since he fell from his saddle. Why had he fell? His aching skull still chased the memory from recall.

The rhythm of Socrates careful walk stopped. Jared peered into the blizzard. He could discern no difference. He nudged Socrates, “Come on, boy. We gotta keep going.”

Socrates shook his head before dropping it. Jared leaned forward, wincing as his sore ribs pulled. “Tired are you?” he asked his four-footed friend. Socrates whuffled, then pawed at something solid just beyond Jared’s sight. The horse waited a moment longer before repeating the odd action.

Jared thought the white whirling mass of snow darkened. He shook his head, trying to clear his sight. And promptly fell off his horse for the second time in his life.

Julia paused before pulling the door of her small cabin closed again. She thought that the banging was the door rattling in the wind. She opened it to slam it, so that she could pack more rugs around the drafty portal. However, she had not been expecting to open the door and see a horse’s face.

She blew out a short breath. “My!” Was that what one said to a horse that knocked on your door in the storm? She wasn’t sure.

The horse nodded at her.

Julia started to pull the door closed, hoping that if she opened it a second time, the odd apparition would vanish. Horses did not appear on one’s doorstep in the middle of a blizzard or a war.

The horse quickly placed a very large, very solid hoof in the doorway, preventing Julia from closing the door. It then looked behind it.

Julia blinked. Was that? Could it be?

The snow was quickly covering a man lying on the ground. He moaned.

“Oh dear.” Julia muttered. This was the first person she had seen in months and she was reduced to monosyllables. But, then again, she thought, what did he care? His horse was doing the introductions.

“I guess there’s nothing for it,” she complained. Leaving the door open, she went to the wardrobe and pulled out her heavy shawl. Wrapping it around herself twice (mother had been a very large woman) she stepped onto her front porch and studied the man in the snow.

The snow dusted a muscular frame larger than any man Julia had ever seen. She thought maybe his stern jaw and hawk like nose would soften when he was awake. But, the chain mail and long sword belied that thought. All she could hope for was that he was a member of the King’s Army, not a lost soldier from the Lady’s Entourage. His surcoat bore no crest and the color was undetermined in the grey afternoon. The horse nudged her shoulder.

“Yes, yes. Inside. I know.” She muttered to nobody in particular. She was not, she thought, talking to a horse.

She grabbed hold of the mystery man’s booted feet and pulled. For naught.

It must be the mail, she thought. Her fingers were already going numb in the vicious storm. She doubted her cabin would ever warm up tonight. A dangling stirrup caught her eye. After some grunting, complaining and wrapping, Julia managed to attach the stranger’s foot to his horse’s stirrup.

She opened the door wide. “Now, if you would just bring him in, we could all get warm,” she invited the horse in.

Her jaw dropped as the horse promptly trotted inside, dragging his rider behind. Then she grimaced as the poor man’s head bumped several times over the rough wood floor. The horse stopped near the only cot and waited, turning his large brown eyes on the tiny woman.

Julia didn’t wait to think about this. She would give more careful consideration to the idea of a horse that understood people tomorrow, after the wind stopped blowing and she could hunt for some food. For now, she just detached the stranger from the saddle and opened the door one last time, “I’m sorry, my handsome horse, but you cannot stay in here tonight. The shed behind the house is open and is well shielded from the worst of the wind.”

The horse appeared to sigh. But wearily walked back into the storm. Julia noted that the horse turned towards the rear of the house.

One strange thing taken care of. Now, she thought, for the strange man with the gruesome weapons….

The Novel News

2005-01-22T14:16:00.000-05:00

It's a newsletter for the up and coming novelist. Full of ideas, help, support and fun. A new edition will be be releasing Feb. 1 :-)

http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/860454

"3"

2004-12-16T21:35:00.000-05:00

The movie by ESPN.

It was OK. It certainly wasn't earthshattering or even that enlightening. It just was a movie about a racer who wouldn't let anything go, certainly not a race.

Perhaps I am more "into" the sport than many fans, but beyond the wives and the explanation of just how all the kids were related (I had never figure all that out before)- I really didn't learn much about The Intimidator.

The performances were fine. The accents were authentic and the dialogue believable in the context. I've seen some chat rooms saying it was cheesy- but have you ever listened to NASCAR broadcasts? All that cheese is touted every weekend and us die-hard fans love it.
One observation I took away. The sport is changing. The competitors are more educated. It was important that Dale Jr. make it through high school at the very least. The days of the profitable and capable moonshiner competing with the professional shops is gone. You need money, smarts and talent these days. Ryan Newman is the new NASCAR.

The use of new footage combined with classic footage made the race scenes believable.
So, I'll give it a 3 out of 5 stars. It did its job. It told his story.

If you're a Big E fan- watch it. If you're a NASCAR fan- watch it. If you're just curious- you'd probably want to skip it.

Is it really that complicated?

2004-12-09T16:59:00.000-05:00

Today, while shopping for sandpaper at a Black & Decker Outlet, I noticed a "gift idea". The $40 surefire stocking stuffer was a combination pack that contained a battery powered laser that replaced your tape measure and a calculator that had conversion buttons for inches, feet, yards, etc. The front of the package insisted that this must-have would help you reduce trips to the home improvement store by estimating (estimating? A laser could only estimage?) the size of the room you are working on and providing accurate calculations for materials needed.

I stood and stared at it for several minutes while my husband finished his purchase. It just couldn't be! Are people this hopeless? In fact, I'm quite sure that the time spent learning to use the gadgets certainly wouldn't reduce time. A simple tape measure, a pad of paper and a pencil seemed to be able to do the same job. I said so. The owner of the store laughed. I think he agreed.

We went home and went to work on our living room (OK- so it is a four year project, but we did stop buying gadgets for it last year). The tools of the trade for the day: putty knife, spackle, sandpaper, utility knife, and drywall tape. No computers, no fancy algebra; just good old fashioned hard work. It doesn't take a rocket scientist.

The Home Depot has had several silly options available, too. I think the best is the battery powered tape measure. The box says you only need one hand to use it. Now, I could be wrong here, but it seems to me you will still need to hold one end down while you look at the measurement, to make sure it doesn't move. Hmmm....$24 vs. $7. What do you think? I think $7 will do for now.

Of course, if you spend your whole day measuring things for a living- you might spring for the $24. But I haven't noticed the battery powered tape measure display next to the professional tool section.

Simplicity! That is the idea that needs to be marketed. It might help cut down on gullibility and stupidity.

NASCAR NOTES- the day before

2004-11-20T16:53:00.000-05:00

Title: Ready for the Wrap Up?

Kurt Busch sit atop the Chase I'm not happy about that turn of events.

Jimmie Johnson just 18 points behind.

Jeff Gordon- 21 points out.

and Lil E- 72

Do you have faith grayer heads will prevail?
Mark Martin- 82.

Five really awesome drivers (I said drivers! Not people!) all in the mix. Mathematically, it is unlikely that Earnhardt or Martin will turn the table upside down. However, Johnson or Gordon? Oh yeah!My preference? Well, Jeff adding #5 to his mantle would be gratifying as I've supported him since his first laps around Atlanta 12 years ago. But, you know, Jimmie has really turned in a Championship year. No buts about it.

My personal pick from last year - Lil' E- well, he just had too many challenges to make it.

If Kurt makes it- I'll be ready to toss the Chase down the drain.

Newswise, I have not enjoyed the Chase for the Championship as much as I enjoyed the Race to the Chase. What happened to the other 25 drivers? They have been forgotten. But overall- I think the Chase has been good for promoting the sport.

Other news:

The loss of Happy Hour next year- I will miss it. Anyone who has been at the track during Happy Hour can appreciate just how much energy and excitement is generated through the garage during those 45 minutes. But it still looks like it will be a 3-day weekend, with practice on Friday.

The idea of ensuring that the top 35 in points always will make the race would basically cancel any new team from making a run at the big time. I think that would be detrimental to the sport.

Reducing the flow rate on the gas cans to create slower pit stops- I suppose that is a good thing. The days of twisting a wrench and changing the tires at the race have been lost. Not only a huge cost to the teams to hire expensive over the wall gangs- but a loss of the "team". So- yeah- change the cans and slow down the pits. Either that or allow the tech used in the CART/IRL series to be applied in NASCAR pits.

One more to go and a Cup on the Line. How cruel will Fate be this year?

Want to read more? Click here:
http://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/818671/action/list

House for Sale in Orrington, ME

2004-11-13T01:45:00.000-05:00

Maybe you are moving to Maine? Or just relocating within Maine- check out this web-site for an enticing opportunity.

http://www.maineschoolhouse.com/

So- is he dead, yet? The Arafat epic.

2004-11-12T04:15:00.000-05:00

First, there was the announcement that he was in critical condition in his compound in Ramallah. Doctors were called- he was in a coma and being transferred to a hospital. The reports, by and large, had Arafat on his death bed- until late that night. Suddenly he was conscious and resting comfortably in a private room. Huh? This was a little odd.

The following morning there was a report that he was dead- only to be refuted an hour later that he wasn't dead. The original report was from the hospital. Were the doctors that incompetent? They couldn't determine when someone was dead? The option was offered that perhaps he was merely brain dead- not really that dead at all.

It was at this point it ceased to be a news item for me and was now more a form of entertainment. Thoughts of Monty Python danced through my head--

"He's not dead!"

"Yes, he is!"

"No, he's not!"

Old man who looked pretty dead pipes in, "I'm getting better!"

Would Arafat get better? I couldn't wait to see.

But alas, it was not to be. He did die- after a suitable amount of noise about people being unfeeling and rushing the man to his grave. But that was the whole issue, anyway. It is in their faith that the dead must be buried within 24 hours of death. The funeral was not arranged- so they had to stall for time. Hence, the comedy show.

Was it worth it? I certainly would have second thoughts about sending anyone to that hospital.

"We'll ma'am, he's just sort of dead. I wouldn't call the mortuary yet until we're more certain."

I haven't seen a political situation more in need of a Saturday Night Live skit in a very long time!

The saddest part was the number of dignitaries who refused to attend the interment due to security concerns. A winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, and his graveside was not a peaceful place to be.

Then again- CBS decided that they had made a mistake in reporting the "official" death of the man by cutting into an episode of CSI:NewYork. It is definitely a confusing world we live in.

Wow!

2004-11-03T02:53:00.000-05:00

That looks so cool! Much prettier than my other site- but that's a community I will never really leave. ooooo- the possibilities :-) This may help to wake my muse up!

Well- here I am!

2004-11-02T15:49:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about trying a blog for a while. I haven't a clue what I'm actually doing- and maybe that's not a good thing to say, but there it is.

I guess over the next few days I'll play with this and see what happens. Now, for something truly inspirational to say....hmmm....