Unwrapping the Gift of Metaphor

  It’s not always convenient to just say what you are thinking, nor is it prudent, and yet sometimes things just need to be said, and not simply for the saying of the thing, but for the release of the thought or opinion or emotion.

That’s where the use of the imagination comes in like a flood – a water-spout of ideas reaching out and in and through all of the well-structured barriers of protocol and propriety, tearing down walls and overflowing the senses.

Pick up your pen and let down your defenses and let creativity carry you over the edge and into new realms of possibility.

My imagination and I, we have been buddies for as long as I can remember. I met her first as a small child. We’d play together for hours on end. My mother knew her as my imaginary friend. I just knew her as Cathy.

It wasn’t a form of madness, I was just thinking – always thinking. I still think – but mostly it’s not the same as before – before I understood that I couldn’t hurt a tree’s feelings – But have I really come that far? It still hurts me to pluck a leaf from a tree, or to trample a flower underfoot. Something inside of me still believes that they can feel…

And maybe that’s the root of boundless possibilities, because if a person can credit the right of each entity as a viable existence then the vastness of the Universe becomes explore-able, and no matter how great or how small, reachable.

The art of telling a good story centers upon the writer’s willingness to get in the trenches, and it doesn’t stop with getting your hands dirty. You have to be willing to sink deep into the mire with the idea and search it out. You’ve got to dig deeper than you can see, and be willing to take chances. Who knows what might be down in that great abyss of the unexplored, the unknown?

And what if you don’t like what you find there? Are you willing to go the distance, to run that extra mile? Are you willing to have your heart filleted and served on a platter when your ideas aren’t embraced?

I have been crafting a book for the past couple of years, exploring the different avenues that have wandered in and out of my creative highway which has led me to this detour, this pleasant by-way. In my book, “ON A RAMBLE, On a Bright and Sunny Day: Mostly True Stories: Including, Creepy, Creepy, Spider” I have stepped outside of the box, I have let my mind have a picnic, and I have let my creative juices flow. I’ve been open to the ridiculous, and I have enjoyed myself thoroughly. But mostly what I have done is I have discovered creative freedom. I’ve embraced the improbable and found myself wed to the impossible.

I offer three stories. Woven tightly within them a reality brews like a storm, with a resolution as gentle as a fresh and healing rain.



“GIT!”

“If that dog keeps sniffing around my front door I’m going to scratch his eyes out!”

“Spuds! That is so not nice!”

Now what possessed my cat to talk – I do not know, but something must be bothering him. He use to be normal – well – somewhat – kind of – okay – not normal – but at least he wasn’t out and out gabbing at me!

Oh, all right! No, I’m not hearing voices – but I tell you – if that cat could talk he sure would be! He’s been hissing all around the house and bearing his sharp little claws like there’s no tomorrow.

And I’m telling you right now, it’s not my fault! I didn’t move that hussy and her mutt into the apartment across the way! Oh sure, there’s a huge patio between us, but does that scrawny little dog know that? Apparently not! She and all of her fleas are constantly underfoot and in my space. Rubbing herself up against me like I care. And then I have to face the wrath of Spuds – ‘cause you know – he ain’t no dummy. He can see when a predator is trying to squeeze into his space.

We got boundaries you know! Places another animal should not go. Spuds smells that ‘may as well be a stray’ on me and he’s through the roof! And I have to live with him!

Just like that guy over at the market. I offered to shake his hand and he may as well have grabbed me the way that he got right in my space and practically pulled me into him – well – not exactly into him – ‘cause you know – I’m a big girl. I stiff-armed him and kept him well at full arm’s length!

“I don’t shake hands,” he tells me. “I give hugs.”

Is that right? I’m thinking – but not real cottony. No, no warm fuzzies going on at all. And I’ll not be offering a hand shake to him again – ever! No, all that man will get from me is a side-ways glance and a brisk step in the other direction!

I loved Psychology in school. I can see it now, ‘Molly Picket, Doctor of Psychology!’ ‘Cause I get it! We people, and cats too, have this little circle. It’s our comfort zone. And no, I’m not talking about inappropriate touchy feely; but that most certainly is included! I’m talking about our ‘safe space’ – that space that surrounds our whole being that is ours alone – only to be crossed into by ‘invitation only’!

When you go marching around unwelcome and uninvited you are crunching on some pretty big toes! You know – like the shameless stray – more of the woman sort – who goes prancing all around at all of the parties chatting up all the husbands like she has any business! Not wise, that one!

Spuds, he gets mad just smelling that old dog has been coming around! You don’t want to be crossing a woman! Let alone a whole room full of them! Talk about scratching eyes out! I bet that’s where the first woman ever got a notion of stoning someone to death! You know – like when you pick up a rock and throw it hard as you can at that there dog that you’ve asked kindly to go away.

By the time you pick up that rock you ain’t asking! No siree! You are telling! “Get out of my space!” And not in a little while either – or if you please! No sir! “I mean now!”

And then them there women – they gather up their little chil’ren, put their bonnets back on their little noggins, grab a-hold of their fellers hand, and march right into their future: Leaving the intruder in the dirt and shaking the dust off of their dainty little feet, and then hang a sign on their doors, “Peace to all who enter here.”

I think I’ll get a spray bottle and discourage any more unwelcome advances from that hussy’s mutt. Seems it would be a whole less violent than a rock! It says in The Good Book to get along with everyone ‘As much as it is within you’. And if I go killing that dog I don’t ‘spose’ my new neighbor would take too kindly to that! Now Spuds, I’m thinking, he wouldn’t mind – no – not at all!

Ancient Chinese Proverb:
“It is better to be the hammer than the anvil.”



Necessary Changes

“Oh my word! I can’t find Spuds. I’ve looked everywhere!”
“Everywhere? Have you?”
“You know I have.”
“Not everywhere.”
“What do you mean? You know I have. Everywhere.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I think I saw him. In the street. I slowed down. I didn’t want to look. I looked hard. ‘It could be him’, I thought frantically. ‘It couldn’t be him’, I thought even more frantic. Not Spuds! I got home – searched everywhere – but he was gone.”
“So you’ve given up?”
“What if it was him?”
“What if it was him?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a cat, isn’t he?”
“Well, yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“It’s got everything to do with anything. It’s the nine lives thing. You can’t give up on him.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”

And so there you have it. Me and my little pea brain, once we got done thinkin’ I got to thinkin’, outside of the box, you know – thinkin’ about all them there possibilities.
So I quit the giving up part, you know, the deep dark depression, excessive misery – and went back to lookin’. Maybe I hadn’t looked everywhere after all…

I dug my feet in and looked here and there – high and low – and then I finally did what any true blooded American would do – I went to the Pound. I guess I had been avoiding there. But who could blame me? I didn’t want to be around all of those loud and barking dogs. Hadn’t that been where it had all started in the first place?
I told Spuds that I had no interest in that scrawny old neighbor’s dog – but the more it came around, the madder Spuds would get. I told it to git, but did that mutt listen? I knew Spuds was mad that morning, but I didn’t expect him to dart between my feet when I opened the front door! I knew he was heading after that blasted dog! Where did he go? Where else could I go? So here I am – right smack in the midst of a whole kennel full of dogs – to look for my cat! But do you think they could have a kitty kennel? No – just a place for cats – you know – in the back!

Meanwhile on the deep, dark, Spuds side of town –

“Look at me. She’ll never find me.”
“Sure she will. She has to. She loves you.”
“But look at me. She’ll never recognize me – not after all I’ve been through – not now.”
“She’ll find you.”
“But how?”
“Here. Now.”

And it was true! There she was! Spuds could see her! His human was coming to rescue him! Should he stand? Should he sit quietly? How would she know it was him? So much had changed – everything had changed. But still he felt the same towards her. It wasn’t her fault that he was there. Wasn’t her fault he had gotten so angry. As he considered it, he really couldn’t blame himself either. He knew that now – and Lord knew he had plenty of time to think! He had been provoked! By that dog!

A deep sadness overtook Spuds and he bowed his head down as he considered that other ‘dogs’ fate.

He had ran out the door, just like Molly said. And he went straight over to that mutt’s door. He saw it laying there on its people’s porch. And Spuds confronted the enemy! And when they got face to face, let me tell you, it was not pretty! Talk about role-reversals! In a life-altering – forever even – changing way!
That dog stood up, and all of its hair stood straight up! It hissed out at Spuds and jumped up in the air, barring its claws and started chasing Spuds!

And let me tell you! Spuds had no choice but to turn tail and run! There was no way that he was going to have any part in that cat fight!

And then it happened. Spuds ran out into the street with that cat hot on his tail and splat! Flat cat!

It was as if it had been a dream – or more like a nightmare. Spuds stood safely on the other side as he watched Molly drive by. And that dead dog? It was the splat cat! And there Spuds stood – dogged! How could he go home? He had no home. He had no identity. Everything that he had ever been lay there dead in the street.

Molly walked right past Spuds – but who wouldn’t? All she could hear or see was the desolation – the whining. She didn’t want to hear it – couldn’t begin to understand the heartache, the despair. She shut the sound out and went to a better place, a quieter place, and looked for Spuds amongst the cats.

“He’s not here.” Molly bemoaned.

She considered adopting a stray cat, but her heart just wasn’t in it.

‘Maybe a puppy.’ She felt like a traitor. But she had come to the last resort and had not found her friend.

She dared a look at a set of sad eyes. ‘Take me home’ they begged as the lost and lonely dog moaned. Molly understood his despair, but couldn’t help him. She knew that they would be miserable together. Two sad and lonely souls. No – that would never do. No, she needed more – a spark – some hope…

The next one barked excitedly. Molly thought to consider him, but then caught sight of, after wind, and decided against such a bountiful challenge.

Spuds didn’t know how to beg. He didn’t even consider his new-found bark. All that he could do was what he had always done – he sat up straight and tall and he just watched. He knew that she would pass him by, but he would keep his dignity. He would not fuss. He would not beg.

Molly went to pass him by, but something compelled her to stop. And she did stop, right in front of him. He couldn’t believe it.

“See me! Notice me!” His eyes searched Molly’s. “I want to come home!”

Molly heard Spud’s heart’s cry. She bent down on her knees and looked him eye to eye.

“Spuds?”

The little dog lifted himself from his hopeless despair and wagged his little tail.

Lamentations 3:22 It is because of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not


Reconciliation

Molly was worried about Spuds. He just wasn’t the same – the transfiguration from a cat to a dog was monumental, but it was more than that. If Molly didn’t know better she’s swear that Spuds was depressed.

But not everything was bad – like getting rid of the cat box, now that was a huge plus! Spuds had sat quietly by while Molly had headed out the door with it for the last time. He sure wouldn’t miss that! Nor would he miss the humiliation he had to endure daily when Molly would without complaint dispose of his deposits. What freedom! And the great out doors! He was no longer a ‘closet cat’ but one of the neighborhood dogs! He had a tiny back yard that he found great dignity in soiling his own little corner – and better yet – Molly cleaned up after him while he napped inside…

But still, Spuds was restless. The truth of the matter was that Spuds couldn’t get that last day as a cat out of his mind. He couldn’t forget how sick he felt seeing that dog dead in the street. The memories haunted him. But Spuds put on like everything was okay by him. Man’s best friend! What more could a guy want?

But Molly, she loved Spuds too much to leave him that way. Molly started watching “The Dog Doctor” religiously. She was determined to help Spuds to transition into his new world.

After about a week of being inundated with doggie data the light finally came on. Now Molly, everyone knows, that girl’s candle don’t always burn that bright – but when Molly gets it, she’s got it! She finally realized what was missing! Off to work she went with a skip in her step. She’d stop by the Park View Dog Dealer on her way home and purchase the equipment.

She made her selections carefully. She was mindful not to get too much length on the lead – no one needs enough rope to hang themselves! And the collar – The Dog Doctor said to keep it simple. Not too much glamour, and those spikes? Leave those cheap tricks for the bulldogs!

Molly gathered up the purchases and headed home humming, “How much is that doggie in the window?” And even caught herself adding the classic, “Ruff, Ruff” Oh, I do hope that doggie’s for sale… On with the whimsy, and telling her age… Author included.

Spuds met Molly at the door. Boy, how their relationship had changed! He could still remember how stand-offish and aloft he had been before. But now, now he was as much a fool for her company as any dog could be!

Molly was happy to see how much Spud’s attitude had improved. It was getting pretty hard to miss the cat…

“Hi boy,” she cooed as she scratched behind his ears. Spuds about lost his balance as he wagged his little tail. So much for dignity! He couldn’t help it – it felt so good! Some things never change!

“Look what I got you.” Molly beamed. Spuds looked at the gifts and wasn’t too certain what to think about them.

‘That thing’s going to choke me’ Spuds wasn’t as convinced as Molly was that this ‘taking a walk’ thing was such a great plan. But then when he actually had the collar on he realized that Molly had done him just fine. It wasn’t too light or heavy – it was just right! Now the leash – that could have been longer – but the idea of having her strutting around showing him off was quite attractive! Yes – Spuds was pretty certain that he could do this!

Molly didn’t know what to expect. All of this was new to her too. And she hadn’t forgotten Spuds darting through her legs and out the door – it was the last time that she saw her kitty… But as she looked down at the precious little dog that Spuds had become she couldn’t’ help but smile. The same deep, dark eyes – The same multi-colored coat – Yes – Spuds was Spuds, there weren’t no doubt about it!

“Come on boy, let’s check this out.”

And Spuds, he wasn’t no puppy. He didn’t need to run, he weren’t in no hurry. And so off they went, the two of them, leash and collar and all, off on their new adventure.

They weren’t three steps out the door when Spuds looked over to where that neighbor’s dog liked to hang out, on its front porch, you know, when it wasn’t all up and hanging around Molly!

“Just let it drop.” Spuds chided himself. What good would it do bringing it all up anyway? Spuds knew he couldn’t unwind time – couldn’t not be angry, couldn’t un-flat the cat…

His happy patter had quickly dulled to a lagging lethargy. He never meant for any of it to happen. And then it happened. The unthinkable, the impossible, the unbelievable! The flat cat, it was back! And not splat! Not even a cat! The neighbor’s dog came strolling along, looking at the new mutt in town!

Spuds couldn’t help it – he was beside himself! If he hadn’t first been a cat he would have gone right over and sniffed that dog – no – not this dog – but Spuds sure was a happy camper! Dog not dead? Oh, happy day!

“But how?” Spuds looked to something greater than himself. “I saw him. I saw him there. Dead in the street. There ain’t no way he was getting up – no way!”

“Was it a dog you saw? A dog you saw I say, lying in the street?”

“No, a cat. A definitely flat, a definitely splat cat.”

“Remember how you felt like you were out of your body?”

Spuds vividly recalled how he had felt standing there – surreal – watching the nightmare unfold.

“You were out of your body.”

“Out of my body?”

“In the street – crow’s meat.”

“No, not me.”

“You.”

Spuds stopped cold in his tracks. He looked up at Molly and over at the neighbor’s dog who had found his way to his resting place on his front porch.

“It was me. But why did I think – ”

“You had too; else it would have been too much for you. You would have given up before Molly could find you.”

“Yeah, well, I still ain’t gonna cotton up to that old dog sniffin’ around Molly.”

“Oh yeah? You keep him in his place, but at least live in peace.”

Spuds took another look at the ‘threat’ who was now sound asleep. Maybe that old dog hadn’t wanted nothin’ to do with Molly all along…

Spuds straightened up his back and set his face towards their future. He smiled in his own little way as he mused, “Grrrr.”


Proverbs 24:16 partial: A just man may fall seven times, but rises up again

Sweet Apple Pie

 
Sweet Apple Pie
Baked in Goodness
The Apple of God’s Eye

When God says that He has set His love upon us, can we really even begin to fathom what that means? I’ve been going through a time of adversity like none other than I have ever before experienced. I’d like to say that I have been a great and valiant warrior. I cannot. The truth is, I’ve been beat up and trampled down pretty good. Instead of standing strong and fighting that good fight of faith I have been whipped on every side. I struggled for strength and hope. I’d grasp for old familiar scriptures like, ‘cast down, but not forsaken’, wonderful little tokens of my well established belief system, but found no comfort in them. The words just seemed to belong to someone else, somewhere else, and not to me.

Draw near to God. That has been the anchor that keeps on pulling my spirit back to Him. Draw near to God. Not on my own strength, but on His. Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you. Draw near to God and He will reveal Himself and His goodness to you.

It wasn’t that I was running from God. I was running from my adversary. But where could I hide? It’s no wonder that the scriptures that tell us that we can be cast down, but not forsaken are intertwined with the rest of the story: “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down but not destroyed.” (II Corinthians 4:8,9) As I consider it, the scripture that I grasped for I had a bit wrong, but while I was going through all of these challenges I really don’t think I would have received, ‘but not destroyed’ very well. I felt pretty destroyed. Even still, even while I felt pretty destroyed emotionally, still there was this light inside of me shining a truth that I could not deny. I’ve felt pretty devastated, but never forsaken. There’s no one or anything that can convince me that I have been separated from the love of God!

And so I continue on, and more and more the Lord is sending in the Troops to pick me up and help to put me back together again. Truly we are the Body of Christ. And even in the days of old faithful believers weren’t spared from the pain of betrayal amongst themselves. In the Psalms David laments of the pain that was caused by someone who he trusted and had fellowship with. Even still, it’s within that same Body that I am finding not only acceptance and renewed faith and strength, but also compassion and wisdom.

More than once the Lord has reminded me throughout my exile and alienation from where I once belonged within the Body that whosoever touches me touches the apple of His eye. That gave me a small hope for revenge, but not much else. That is until I started to consider what that truly means. Do I really want the wrath of God to fall heavy upon my enemy or upon the misdirected supporters? No, not really. A little bit of justice would be nice, but not fire and hail and vengeance with a vengeance! It is better to fall under the hands of an enemy than into the wrath of our Almighty God! Lightly I have prayed, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do,” but I haven’t really been sincere. I’ve tried to be, but it just wasn’t there. It’s hard to just let everything go and walk away from any true justice or vindication. But when I think about the wrath of God it starts to make it a little easier to grasp releasing my demand for justice. Who wants to endure the fire of God’s judgment? Not me. Not anyone.

But do you know what has really begun the healing like nothing else could? It’s the imagery of what being the apple of God’s eye really means. As I looked to find out more about this whole concept my heart was immediately pierced, and not in a bad way either. I was taken to the Song of Solomon and beckoned to ‘come away, my beloved’… where I read, “Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple tree: there thy mother brought thee forth; there she brought thee forth that bare thee. Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave; the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love; neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.”

And then to Psalms where the Psalmist mirrors my hurt and confusion: “Hear the right, O Lord, attend unto my cry; give ear unto my prayer, that goeth not out of feigned lips. Let my sentence come forth from thy presence; let thine eyes behold the things that are equal. Thou hast proved mine heart; thou hast visited me in the night; thou has tried me, and shalt find nothing. I am purposed that my mouth shall not transgress. Concerning the works of men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the paths of the destroyer. Hold up my goings in thy paths, that my footsteps slip not. I have called upon thee, for thou wilt hear me, O God: incline thine ear unto me, and hear my speech. Show thy marvelous loving-kindness, O thou that savest by thy right hand them which put their trust in thee from those that rise up against them. Keep me as the apple of the eye; hide me under the shadow of thy wings, from the wicked that oppress me, from my deadly enemies, who compass me about.” (Psalms 17:1-9)

And as I’m equipped for the battle I am drawn back to the gentle words spoken to the beloved once again in the Song of Solomon, and with tears of gratitude I share, “I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please. The voice of my beloved! Behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice. My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; the fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grapes give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice, and thy countenance is comely. Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes. My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

And at last a song comes to my heart: “In the secret, in the quiet hour I wait, only for You, I want to know You more. I want to know You. I want to hear Your voice. I want to know You more. I want to touch You. I want to feel Your face. I want to know You more…”

One final thought, in the words of another song as I know that every thing is going to be okay. “Open the eyes of my heart Lord, open the eyes of my heart. I want to see You. I want to see You. To see You high and lifted up, shining in the light of Your glory, pour out Your power and love as we sing Holy, Holy, Holy… Holy, Holy, Holy… Holy, Holy, Holy, I want to see You. I want to see You.”


Audrey Semprun
Joyful Noiz Ministries
08/26/09

All my Ducks in a Row

 

These past several months have been very difficult for me. I want to be a witness for the Lord. I want my life to all be in order. I want all of my ducks in a row so to speak. I want every thing to be as perfect as possible. And it's not just my surroundings that I want to have all neat and in order. I want that from myself and from those around me. And you know what? It ain't happening! I find imperfections all around me, and in me too no less!!! I'm not perfect? What's that about? I try to do the right thing. I try to say the right things. Shoot, I even try to think the right things! But do I? Not on this planet! And to make matters worse, I can't control those around me either!!! I can't control anything it doesn't seem. And then I hand it over to the Lord and ask Him to take care of things for me... But do I wait and watch and listen? Not so much. I find myself constantly taking things back and finding myself knee-deep in cares and concerns! MARTHA, MARTHA, Thou art mindful of many things... Oh, how I wish that my MARY in me would surface and rule my heart and my mind!

Jesus, be Jesus in me. Take me and make me all that you would have me to be. Surrender me now on my knees. Jesus, be Jesus in me.

Lost in Translation!

 

Okay, so I wanted to show off my son's carpentry work. The building that the window is mounted in is a 40' by 60' three bay doored garage. But could you tell that by the picture? Not today! I was trying to highlight my son's craftmanship and what did I come up with? A picture of a stained glass picture in a window. (My son didn't make the picture. A man by the name of Russell did.) It is the last bit of an obsession. The obsession was to send him (my son) a ton of pictures that was a bit by bit showcase of the work on the garage from the escavating on up to the completed building as it was in progress. Read the post under this if you are the least bit interested in what I was thinking... It's been a long day and I'm out of here. Visit my son's new web site and see his handiwork!

http://www.distinctremodeling.com/

Rat Girl by Default

 
 
 
 

I hadn't intended to post about the Rat Girl car. The last time I posted the rat I had to delete it because someone told me that it was out of my character to be ranting about the issue that was bothering me... I guess it should have been at least! Oh, well! What can I say? God's still working on me.

What I had intended to post was in a set of pictures that I had in a program. I clicked on one and these four appeared! That's wonderful to know as I didn't know how to post more than one picture at a time. Only problem is, the picture that I had intended to post is still back in the other program in the photo tray along with the other five that were all hanging out together.

I think I'll type up a book tonight! I have a new job - Praise the Lord! And I've been trying to type on a straight keyboard... What a mess for me! Control Alt Delete is Greek on it even! Can you imagine trying to find the right keys? I learned how to type on my split key board and the other ones are just awkward and even a bit painful to use. I'm happy type, type, typing away!

What I was going to post was a picture of the Rat Girl in stained glass that is hanging in the window of my husband's shop. I was going to carry on about my son's new business venture. He's (my son) a carpenter and does excellent work. He built the shop with my husband and it's huge and gorgeous both! It's on our property and blends in with the house and doesn't take away from the landscape at all. I'll post the picture on the next blog, which will post after this one. I'll also put a link for my son's 'under construction' web site. Why don't you visit him and tell him that his mom says Hi! http://www.distinctremodeling.com/

Book Giveaway!

 

No, it's not my book that is on the giveaway! Shadow World is still just a figment of my over-active imagination. My friend Kelly has a book giveaway on her blog. Here is the link. http://enroutetolife.blogspot.com/

My Lulu Storefront

AN ARTFUL EYE FOR DETAIL

Okay, and so here I are. Here I am. Here I were? Yes, that's it. I were. I am. I are... I'm pretty busy in my brain is what that is all about. I've been thinking, and that's always a frightening proposition. And no, please don't correct me. And pleeeease don't tell me to think more highly of myself! When someone assumes that I don't care for me and that I'm putting myself down that tells me a lot about them right out the gate! It tells me that they don't know me very well - no - not very well at all! And why is that? It's because I never really had an identity until I found my place in Christ and so I hang out pretty okay with myself, and why not? I'm a child of the King! And I know that right well! Honest!

Anyway, what have I been up to? Not a whole lot of anything that a person could actually put a finger on, but I've been pretty busy just the same. Been searching for work and that's always fun. But I still get a bit giddy when I wake up in the morning and consider that I don't have to go to work... I was pretty done with my work taking care of the elderly. The physical aspect was a bit draining as a lot of my clients errantly believed that they were my only client... and even more so than that I was starting to lose my patience with some of them. Some people can be a bit testy! I think it was the ones that felt like I owed them something that were the worst. I did my work as a servant and they would treat me like their personal slave... Bit of a difference in mind set. I did what I did because I wanted to, not because I had to... And I wasn't no slacker either. Heck, it was in my heart to help these people and so I rolled up my sleeves and gave it my all. Anyhoo, no more fussing. I'm just glad I'm done.

I guess 'bit' is my word for the day. I hate it when someone overuses a word, and here I am. I wanted to change the word a couple of times but it just fit. Guess that's just how it goes.

On to the heading and my task at hand... I'm going to see about offering my services to people to help them to self-publish some of their writing. I figure that it's gotten to be pretty simple for me to upload pictures and to format books and I love to create covers, so why not? I'm a little nervous about reading the 'copy' though! Especially the thought of bad poetry! Bad poetry to me is like scratching on a chalk board or hitting a sour note in a bar of music. It makes me wince in pain. Is that theatric, or what? I have to laugh at myself. I think that anyone who writes poetry has written bad poetry at some time or another! Myself included! And don't even get me started on a novel that doesn't make any sense! I've made it a life-long promise to myself that when someone asks me to read their manuscript for a proposed novel I'm just not available! I will for this endeavor, but the rules are, I'm not a copy editor for grammar corrections, or a book doctor. I want to work on clean manuscripts when it comes to consistency of story and plausibility of plot. I can handle dealing with sentence structure and obviously incorrectly spelled words and maybe the incorrect usage of words, but other than that I'm just in it to format the thing and make it a reality. With poetry or for non-fiction I can see myself sorting and structuring the contents, but not for fiction! If I'm feeling like throwing the book across the room then it is highly unlikely that we will be working together long... I'll send you off to have someone help you clean it up... You being who I'm talking about, and who ever is reading this, surely that isn't you?

AN ARTFUL EYE FOR DETAIL is what I'm calling this endeavor. I considered saying, adventure, but that aspect of the deal is yet to be seen. I've already got a couple of ladies that I may be looking at their poetry. One is a freebie as she helped spur me on in my thoughts to do this in the first place. She will teach me what I need to know to cover all of my bases. I guess her book is a template for the real deal. I'm interested to see if people can actually follow simple instructions. I'll have their book all in order but it'll be up to them to open up the Lulu account and to actually create the book. I don't want to mess with any copyright issues that could possibly arise and so this way I'll stay protected. If they have me design a cover using someone else's artwork and I don't know it then I won't be in trouble, so long as I don't publish the work. If they publish something that they have no rights to then it is their mistake and liability. I have more integrity than that, but I know that not everybody does. I guess that's how there are even thieves in the world in the first place... Hmm. Novel though... And I can ask them if it is their own work, but how would I know? Problem solved. I won't chance it... In this modern day of technology I can't even know if a photograph is copyrighted by a different person than by the person who supplies it to me... Nope, no chancing it! Not this girl! I'll have to set up a billing structure and until I get gainful employment I won't be able to start this business anyway. I'm getting pockets full of money from Unemployment that I can't afford to lose! Not if we still want to eat, and have you seen the prices of groceries lately? Kidding about the pockets full of money... I'm looking for a job, but I already said that, didn't I?