An oldy but a moldy...

Just finished a long day of demolishing a basement.  We are trying to get rid of water damage from a leaky water heater.  Wet moldy carpet, wet moldy dry wall, and wet moldy insulation.  Seven hours of scraping, pounding, and cutting, with only a few blisters to show for it, and I think we are about done--at least I know I am.  We still have a truck load of garbage to get rid of, but it's better than it was.

Mickey and his relatives have moved in

With the onset of cold weather, we have had some mice move into our house.  This happens every year at this time, and we set a few traps and catch them, then they are gone until the next year.  This year, in the last week, we have caught 17 mice so far!  We'll keep setting the traps and hopefully get them all out soon.

New Perspective

My wife and I went to SLC Friday to visit my number 2 daughter and her husband, and to go to the temple.  We all got up early and made it to an early session.  It turned out that this session was an ASL session for the deaf.  Everything still had the audio and visual components in place, but there were also video translators doing ASL.  It was fascinating to see, and truly gave a new perspective on the session.  One translator in particular used his entire body to portray and sign not only the meaning, but the FEELING of the words.  How often do we forget, or become blase, about this aspect of this sacred ceremony.  It made a great day even better.

Kool-Aid Anyone?

We went to a garage sale today, and three little girls were there selling koolaid and cupcakes.  At first I told them I didn't want any, but then I decided to support a young entrepreneur, so I bought some Koolaid.  I was already planning on just dumping it when I got out of sight, but what happened next clinched it.  The girl behind the table picked up a cup, looked in it, then began to blow in it and reach her hand inside.  She said, "Sorry, they fell on the ground."  Then she poured me about a half a cup of koolaid.  As I was walking away, the three little girls began to drink from the spout of the pitcher.  The koolaid went into the gutter, and the cup in the garbage.  :0)

I don't remember why I started writing this, but it took off on its own and ended up here.  It wanted a different ending, but I convinced it to end how I wanted.

The Ways of the Wyrm
            by Stick

I worried constantly.
It was only a matter of time
Before another came to claim
That which I claimed as mine.
They would be fools
To face one such as I,
But fools there were in plenty
Who felt the need to try.

Their many moldering corpses
Now littered my front step
For I heard rumors of their coming
Long before they leapt
Out into my parlor
Their challenge to cry forth
In dialects of the East,
Or from the frigid North.

I let their bodies lie there
To finish baking in the sun
As a warning to any others
That it would be wiser to turn and run.
The putrid, festering bodies
Lent a bouquet to the air
That pleased me in a subtle way
Knowing they were there.

Now I had been worrying
For several days on end
I could sense a disturbance--
An annoying, mocking trend.
It was a movement in the air,
A faint unfamiliar scent,
On the edge of my senses,
Against which I could not vent.

It disturbed me in my waking hours,
And left me restless in my sleep.
I was constantly pacing round
The halls of my vast keep.
I was searching for I knew not what,
Perhaps some shadow in the dark.
But my vigilance was fruitless
My view stayed bare and stark.

 I knew someone was coming,
Whether hero, thief, or mage
No worry--My flame had claimed many such
From every clime and age.
They would fall to my mighty breath
Or to my talons sharp,
And only rumors would return,
From some bardic harp.

I heard a noise across the pass
That led into my vale.
I smelled the odor as a camp was made
Down in the river dale.
I was surprised as I realized
That this one had come alone.
Something none had done before
Of those made of flesh and bone.

My curiosity was piqued,
For this thief didn’t fit the mold,
So I determined to speak to them
To learn why they were so bold.
 I silently left my cloistered den,
The sky was black as ink,
And soared upward on the zephyr wind
As the sun stood upon the brink.

A wispy tendril of smoke
Pointed to the brazen camp,
Which lay unhidden on the mossy banks
Amidst the dew and damp.
As silent as a falling leaf,
I floated down the air,
Until I settled on a rock
Overlooking what was there.

Now news came to me,
From senses yet unused,
A revelation to help identify
My invader from the mews.
A woman!
And one of ancient years!
But the camp I saw was well kept,
Bereft of the scent of fear. 

As I sat upon the rock,

Looking over the doomed repose,

The object of my search emerged

And seeing me, she froze.

She, however, did not act

Like others I had met.

She did not blanch before my gaze,

Her eyes ablaze and set.

 

With amazement I heard her speak

A name I thought none knew.

MY NAME! Long hidden,

Concealed from human view.

“Azrondial, you old Wyrm,

Long have I sought this place,

For I come to bring your doom,

And converse face to face.”

 

“I seal your breath, and freeze your bones,

With the power of your name.

Your claws are stilled, your eyes are blind,

Your muscles I declaim.

With the power of a White Mage,

I seal you with my curse,

Be still as stone upon that hill

While your evils I rehearse.”

 

“Of all those souls you have killed

Only one matters to me.

You killed my son, while he was young,

In a village by the sea.

You burned the town, that my folk called home.

Leaving me all alone,

And left me to seek, through all the world,

For a vengeance of my own.”

 

“Long I sought to find the power

I needed to bring you down.

Years of searching through musty tombs

‘Til at last the name was found.

Yet still I needed the knowledge

To wield your name with force,

So I set out to the tower of Ar

Where the mages set their course.”

 

“Many long years I studied there

And learnt the wizard’s ways.

Until, at last, my master proclaimed

The end of my apprentice days.

And now you’re here, on that hill of stone,

And stone your body shall be,

And there you’ll sit ‘til the world ends

For all the world to see.”

 

She left him then, and went her way,

Lighter than when she had come.

She had found the peace so long sought,

And taken her vengeance in sum.

And for many long years, the valley was shunned

For none knew the deed she had done,

And I weathered away in the wind and the rain

Sitting under the setting sun.

 

 

 

 

The worst Happiest day of her life

Last night, we held the wedding reception for my oldest daughter and her new husband. It was a comedy of errors on our part, brought on by extenuating circumstances, which could have ended up much worse than it did, though it was bad enough as it was.
First, we were a little confused as to when she wanted this to start. She told one group 5 pm, and on her facebook invitation, she put 6:30. Then, on the invitations, (which we did not get), she said 6 pm. We finally got everything ready at 6:30. :0(
Second, my wife went through two emergency surgeries last weekend (just after the wedding), so she was not able to do everything she would have normally been able to do.
Third, eveyone underestimated the time it would take to do everything that needed to be done. One example-- the wedding cake did not get finished until an hour after the reception started. Nobody's fault, it just took longer due to little things.
Then, the groom found out that he had tforgotten his shirt. The first guests showed up while he was still gone to retrieve it.
In spite of all of this, it turned out fine. Everything was in place by the end of the reception, and everyone who came seemed to enjoy themselves--except the bride. Well maybe by the end. At leats she will never forget it. She might even forgive us eventually.

Keep smiling. Hang in there. Stick.

What's in your Pocket?

My sister Delirious, who blogs on Life on a Limb, posted this idea, so I thought I would send it along.  In my pocket:
Keys to my classroom
Keys to my vehicle
chapstick
cell phone
wallet
change
and a pocket knife.
I usually carry at least one set of keys, but sometimes two because of my school keys.  The chapstick depends on the time of year, since I don't always need or use it.  The cell phone seems to have become a necessity, especially since we got rid of our house phone.  However, the one thing I almost always have in my pocket is a pocketknife.  I have carried at least one since I was around eight years old.  The way I was raised, it was something you just did.  Today's kids may miss out on this.  They can't carry a knife to school, because the fed has decided that they aren't responsible enough to do so.  They will stab someone with that little 2 inch knife blade.  Forget the fact that if a kid is going to stab someone with a knife, they don't care if it is against the rules, and they won't use a little 2 inch blade.  While it may be true that a kid could use a knife like this in a crime of opportunity on the spur of the moment, it never really happened in my 12 years of public school.  I hope the time comes when my kids, grandkids, or their kids can once again know the pleasure of carrying a small knife in their pocket.  You never know when you might need it, and there is no prouder 9 year old, than the one who pulls out HIS knife for dad to use.

So, what's in your pocket?  Stick.