Plot Bunny Challenge #3

Once more I link up with Anne-girl for her June Challenge.

For my third of eight plots, I find myself a little stunned.  I'm still mulling over my second plot, and I can't seem to get rid of it.  It's hanging on tenaciously, demanding to be written.  I know you all can understand me when I say that the characters, especially Sandy, have become so real that they clamor at my brain, beseeching me to let them out onto paper.

Hence this challenge may be more difficult than previously anticipated.  Hopefully my third plot will still be interesting, though.

I think I will have a difficult time ignoring my favorite period of American history during this challenge, which is why the third plot is focused on the War of 1812.  I'm calling it The Road to Baltimore.

Hester Tardenwell Dane has heard countless stories from her mother, uncles, and grandparents about the Battle of Fort McHenry, an event that took place over fifteen years before she was born.  Now, as a married lady of twenty-three, she and her husband, Crispus Dane, are returning to Baltimore, the city of her mother's childhood, and it's not for pleasant reasons.  Grandmother Tardenwell is dying, and she has specifically asked for Hester.

But somebody doesn't want Grandmother Tardenwell to speak to Hester.  The road from the Dane's home in the New England countryside to the city of Baltimore has become fraught with dangers.  Why do people keep bringing up that brand-new controversial book of Miss Stowe's?  Why does she keep meeting slaves who seem to know all about her?  And why does everyone keep asking her about the dead Francis Scott Key?

Hester tries to sort out these questions, but she knows she has to hurry.  Grandmother Tardenwell's time is ticking away, and so, it would appear, is Hester Tardenwell Dane's.

Connecticut, 1852

Hester Tardenwell Dane

The problem with cows is that they are so large.  Horses are large, too, of course, but cows simply have bulk in places that makes them seem larger than horses.  After three years of living on the Connecticut farm, Hester was still unable to recover from the slight shock of having to milk a cow every morning.  Of all the chores she had, that was the worst.  She knew that Cris had chores far worse, but that never made her feel happy about the cows.

"You, Corinda, are going to behave," she said, staring straight into the big, dewy eyes of the monster.  She held the milk bucket slung over one arm, .  "I won't have any kickings over of the bucket.  Once a day is enough, thank you very much.

Corinda turned her massive head away and pulled some hay out of the manger.

"Ignoring me, are you?  I think not!"  Hester sniffed and stalked up to the cow.  "You are evil, you beast."  She leaned as close to the horrifying thing's ears as she dared and hissed out the words.  "If you kick over the bucket one more time, I will make sure you kick the bucket."

Corinda the Terrible

"Hester?"

Cris stood in the doorway with his hat shoved back on his head and a concerned look flitting through his eyes.

"Oh, it's this cow.  She kicked over the bucket this morning, and she hates me.  I'm quite sure of it.  Our last cow was bad enough, but this fiend is positively the worst cow to walk the earth.  I am quite fed up with her shenanigans.  If she spoils the evening milking, I'll have her head.  Boiled up as it should be."  Hester cast a dark look in Corinda's direction.

"I'm sorry," said Cris.  "If you like, I could milk the cow and you could dig the potatoes."  His eyes sparkles merrily.

Hester laughed.  "I'd almost rather do that.  At least potatoes don't talk back."

"Corinda does?" said Cris.

"She would if she could," said Hester.

Cris smiled indulgently.  After all, Hester hadn't grown up on a farm.  "Oh, that reminds me!" he said suddenly.  "I came out here to give you this letter."

"A letter!" cried Hester.  "I didn't even know I could get letters."

Cris raised his eyebrows.  "Well, this one is addressed to Mrs. Crispus Dane, and that's you."  He handed Hester the letter.

She took it and ripped it open.  "Why, it's from my grandfather in Baltimore!  I've never even met him, you know."

"That's on your mother's side, right?" said Cris.

"Yes, but they weren't too happy about her marrying a New Englander like Father.  I think that's why we never saw them.  They were pretty high and mighty people back when Mother was younger.  I think they still are, in a way."

"Well, what does he say?" asked Cris.

Hester quickly skimmed the letter.  "Oh," she said flatly.  "He says that my grandmother is dying and that she is asking for me.  He wants me to come to Baltimore."

"I thought she didn't know you," said Cris.

"She doesn't," said Hester.  "I've never met my grandmother before in my life."

Cris frowned.  "I don't like it.  What business do they have with us?"  He absently took the bucket and began milking the docile Corinda.

Hester pulled her thick shawl tightly about her shoulders against the October chill.

"Don't they own slaves in Maryland?  What do they want with us Yankees?" said Cris.

"I don't know," said Hester.  "Mother always spoke of Sedge and Lucy, the slaves they had in Baltimore, but I don't know if they still have slaves."

Cris finished the milking in silence.  Hester knew that he wasn't a rabid abolitionist, but in his quiet way he still thought that slavery was immoral.  What if he wouldn't let her go to Baltimore?  Suddenly Hester realized that she had a burning curiosity to see her mother's parents, no matter what they had done or thought about the Connecticut Yankees of which she was definitely a part.

Thanks for reading and God bless,
Kathryn

Plot Bunny Challenge Part 2

I'm linking up for my second of eight plot bunnies with Anne-girl.

I am trying to come up with eight totally different plots, meaning no connections to ANY previous stories that I might have written.  This is like my own personal challenge-within-the-challenge.

So for Plot Bunny #2 I was thinking of something futuristic.  Just the other night I was conversing with some acquaintances about the sad state of dystopian or futuristic fiction.  In other words, it all seems to be about whiny teenagers who change the world.  But why can't we have some actually interesting stuff, with actual adults who solve mysteries and take on the corruption.

Then Kiri was telling us about a disappointing futuristic Christian novel that she read, and that got me thinking that surely it can't be impossible to write a GOOD futuristic Christian novel.

To be completely truthful, I'm not really into sci-fi or dystopian, but that might just be because I've never had any good sci-fi or dystopian to read.  So why not write my own?  I think that the concept is incredibly interesting, if only a really good story could be written.

And for all you dystopian lovers out there, don't get mad at me because I don't care for your favorite books.  I don't get mad just because everyone doesn't like Charles Dickens.  At least, most of the time I manage to stay calm.

Really.

OK, here goes.

No one knows pre-apocalyptic literature like Edgar Fladroe.  Comfortable as the Headman of his section of the System University Archives, he has spent the entirety of his fifty-four years perusing and cataloging salvaged books from the time before the huge world war which was ended by the destructive explosion of Yellowstone's volcano.  Although the population of the world was depleted by millions, the survivors have managed to build up small settlements in the liveable zones.  

But then Edgar is assigned two new assistants--Joe Vinwell and his lovely wife Penny--and his perfect world shatters.  Joe shows Edgar one old volume that he found in the apocalyptic rubble, a volume that he says has changed his life.  One look at the book convinces Edgar that it's trouble.

Now Edgar, Joe, and Penny find themselves up against a clockwork system with a perfection that doesn't want to be destroyed, a leader with a shady past that doesn't want to be exposed, and an ancient book with a message that can't be ignored.


North America's Eastern Coast

All about him hung the pungent, penetrating odor of the ancient books.  Modern books were few, for no one in the System had time for much writing, but Edgar loved the old books, the shabby, often burned covers, the obsolete typeface, and the crackling but still-beautiful bindings.  There were hundreds, nay, thousands, of them.  The System demanded that any found books must be turned over to the System Archives.  Edgar, the Head Librarian of the Pre-Apocalyptic Literature Section, turned over a newly discovered book with his gloved hand.

"This one's new," he grunted to his assistant, a perky blonde named Sandy Mulnix who was eager to learn yet still somehow one of the densest girls he had ever known.  Although he had never known many girls in his life.  "The Blue Castle.  Author is L.M. Montgomery.  We have some with that author, but I don't believe this particular book has come in yet.  Catalog it, Sandy."

"Right away, Headman Fladroe," said Sandy with a bright smile and a flip of her short hair.  "Oh, and Headman Fladroe, there was a new man.  I forgot.  He's taking the displaced one's position.  Sorry about that."

Edgar Fladroe

Edgar frowned.  "Why didn't you tell me sooner?  Right away, Sandy.  You need to get on these things right away.  Remember the trouble with those Shakespeare volumes?  Do you remember that?"

"I'm awfully sorry, Headman Fladroe," said Sandy, her eyes darting to the side.  She was clearly ready to leave his presence.  "He'll be here in about half-an-hour."  She glanced at her watch.  "I'm truly sorry, Headman Fladroe."

Edgar held up his hand and lifted his eyes up to the surveillance camera on the wall pointing in his direction.  "Just be careful, Sandy.  Remember the displaced one.  I don't want to lose you . . . like that."

Sandy's eyes grew wide.  "Oh, definitely not, Headman Fladroe.  I will be so careful."

"Thanks, Sandy," said Edgar.  He watched her as she walked towards the cataloging computer.  Terrible as she was at this job, he couldn't help liking her and her ditzy ways.  It would be a shame if . . . well, no matter.  At least he was getting a new assistant.  Only one assistant was hardly enough in this enormous library.

"And Sandy, bring that book back when you're finished with it," Edgar added.  "I want to shelve it myself.  We're running out of room.  People keep finding more books.  And if I receive any more messages, I'll be in the J-shelves.  Bring them to me at once."

"Yes, Headman Fladroe," said Sandy.

"I swear, if one more truckload comes in, I'll resign."  Edgar was only joking.  No one could resign.  The System didn't allow for resignations.  They simply didn't happen.

He shuffled down the aisles of unshelved books and emerged somewhere in the H-shelves.  He had been at the task of cataloging books for his whole life, but the task seemed neverending.  Just when he thought that he had finished censoring, stamping, and shelving his last newly-discovered book, someone would dutifully turn in another discovered stash to the System.

Sandy Mulnix

"Books," he muttered to himself, "are strangely resistant to destruction."  He liked the sound of the words.  They might have come out of one of the books.  It did seem strange that so many books had survived the apocalypse, which is what the System was calling the Global Wars that had terminated with the mega-eruption of the Yellowstone volcano a mere sixty-three years earlier.  Edgar was glad that he hadn't been born before the apocalypse, but after spending his whole life around literature from that earlier period, he felt a connection to those old, messed-up people.  Their lives were always so free and adventurous.  They were idealistic.

Modern literature was deep, gloomy, and philosophical, and it always held the same trite message: "The System is Right."  No wonder the masses weren't allowed to peruse the pre-ap books.  That would be too dangerous.  So many of the books contained a message of rebellion.

Then why did the System allow this library to exist?  Edgar pushed the thought away.  The System is Right.  Always, the System is Right.  Even if the System is contradictory, the System is Right.

Meanwhile, he found himself among the J-shelves.  He pulled a rag from his pocket and began dusting the strip of each shelf that stuck out further than the books, silently reading the titles on the spines as he did so.  He needed a book for that night.  He had finished a rather dull textbook on organismal biology just the night before, and he hoped he would find a good work of fiction that he hadn't yet read.

That was his reward for never leaving.  He was allowed to read the books.

Suddenly he heard the familiar bleep of the steel security doors that led to the library.

"Oh, they're here!" shrieked Sandy.

"Be quiet, Sandy," said Edgar firmly as he made his way over to the doors.  "Just . . . don't talk, dearie."

The steel doors hissed open, letting in the garish fluorescent lighting of the corridor outside the library.  Three uniformed System agents marched into the room.

"Ah, Headman Fladroe!  A pleasure to see you again, my old friend!"

"And you, Director Genard."  Edgar shook the agent's hand warmly.  "I hear you have a new assistant for me."

"Two, actually," said Director Genard.  He stood stiffly in his dark blue uniform with its crisp seams and allowed himself a brief look at the library.  His normally stony brown eyes drank in the sight of the thousands of books.  The movement was not lost on Edgar, but he was too shocked to make much of it.

"That's good," he said.

"They're a husband and wife, Joe and Penny Vinwell.  I must warn you, Headman Fladroe.  They are very odd people.  That's why the System is putting them here, out of the way.  They aren't criminals, but just the same, they are different.  No one can lay a finger on it, but I thought I had better warn you before they arrive."  Director Genard spoke in clipped tones that perfectly matched his uniform.  He was every inch a product of the System--most of the time.

"I don't mind what they're like, Director Genard," said Edgar.  "As long as they don't mind work, and don't complain too much about not being able to leave, I will be happy to work with them."  That was a perfectly safe answer.  Best to simply accept the System instead of trying to question it all the time.

"Very well, Headman Fladroe," said Genard.  "They will be here within the hour."

He turned on his heel and left with his attendants.  They doors pounded shut.  No one could get in through those airlocks, from either the inside or the outside.  Edgar turned and glared at Sandy.

"Two assistants?  Little missy, you have some explaining to do!"

Thanks for reading and God bless,
Kathryn

Plot Bunny Challenge

I have decided to join Anne-Girl's Plot Bunny Challenge this month.

For my first of eight plot bunnies, I decided I need to do one about food.  Do you understand how difficult it is to love to cook delicious food and to be in a place where no facilities exist for the preparation of such food?  In this case, the next best thing must be to write about food.

And for any of you who have been around for any length of time, you know that I love writing brother-sister duos.  There is something about the brother-sister relationship that I love, probably because I am so well-versed in them.

So, without any further ado, here is my first plot bunny.


Paul and Elissa Maragos can't imagine a life without food.  They have spent their whole lives at their father's  restaurant in Chalcis.  Either one can mix up tsaziki or whip up halvah faster than a fish can blink.  But things start simmering when their older brother marries Nicola, an Italian girl with a domineering personality and a complete belief in the superiority of Italian food.  As she tries to turn the restaurant into something more Italian, Paul and Elissa decide that this means war.  And what better way to war against an Italian than to sabotage her food?

With the help of American tourist Caleb, Paul and Elissa start an all-out war against Nicola, little dreaming that their big plans might backfire in the worst possible way.


Chalcis, Greece

"What's her name?"

"Whose name?"

"You know."

"Her name is Nicola.  We've only heard it fifty thousand times in the past five days."

"Hmmmm.  What's he doing marrying an Italian, anyway?  What's wrong with our own girls?"

Tsaziki

"I'm sure she's plenty nice."

"Yes, nice like spaghetti sauce and i̱líthios ciabatta.  I'm going to be sick."


"Elissa, you be nice to her."

They turned to see Aloeus in the doorway to the kitchen, his dark arms gripping a large container of goat's milk and his eyes glowering at his sister from beneath his shock of black hair.

"Hi, Aloeus," said Paul, grinning foolishly.  "How's Nicola?"

Olive Oil

"She's well.  Don't make fun of her."

"Fun?  Of her?  We wouldn't dream of it!"  Elissa widened her eyes and gave her own dark hair a toss.  "Papa would never approve.  I think he likes her too."

"More power to him," muttered Paul from the sink, where he had begun scrubbing cucumbers in preparation for the evening diners at Estiatório Maragos.  Most of them were American tourists who thought authentic Greek food was gyros and saginaki and therefore marveled at the "rustic" food served in Estiatório Maragos.  Aloeus hated American tourists.  Paul and Elissa loved them.  They spent as much time as they could around the wide-eyed strangers that came to eat food and see ruins and the Sea.  Hence, Paul began picking up expressions like "More power to him."

Aloeus grunted as he deposited the container on the counter.  "This restaurant needs a makeover," he said.

"Not on your life!" squealed Elissa, flinging a towel at Aloeus, who laughed and tossed the towel back at his sister.

Artos

"Go make some cheese," Paul told him.

"Don't tell me what to do, little brother," Aloeus retorted.

Paul raised his eyebrows.  "When I graduate from college, you'll sing a different tune."

"Who needs college?" asked Aloeus.

Paul shrugged.  He was close to receiving his culinary degree, and then he would be able to take over the restaurant someday.  Papa would never give it over to a wuss like Aloeus.  Aloeus who went around marrying Italian girls.  More power to him.

"When are we going to meet this wonder woman?" asked Elissa.  She always knew when to change the subject, although she was usually pretty abrupt about it.

"Soon.  Soon," said Aloeus.

"He finally found someone who will marry him," said Paul.  "Good for you, brother."

Lentils

"As opposed to you, who never even tries," retorted Aloeus.

"Girls.  Who needs 'em?" said Paul.  "Except for the beautiful Elissa, of course."  He waved his hand dramatically at his sister.

"Thank you, brother dear," said Elissa, twirling her hand as she bowed in Paul's direction.

"Stop flinging water everywhere," said Aloeus.

"What a racket!"

It was Mama, back from the shopping.  "You, children, I could hear your voices all the way down the street.  You sound like fishwives.  Yes, fishwives.  Go! Shoo!  I don't want any dirty fishwives in my kitchen.  I have cheese to make!"  Mama grabbed a towel and swatted at Aloeus' legs.  "Out!  Out of my kitchen!  Come back when you can be civilized.  This lady has food to make!"

"More power to you!" laughed Paul as he followed close on his brother's heels.

Thanks for reading, and God bless,

Handwriting, CBCs, Reading, and Music

This is the post where I talk randomness, because, to tell the truth, I don't have any real, hard-core writing to share with you.

Shame on me.

I have been writing, but it's mostly handwriting in a notebook.  The content thereof is vastly interesting to me as important backstory, but I have a feeling it would bore most people to death.  Mostly this is because I am no good with battle scenes.  I hate to admit it, but there you have it.  Describing battle scenes always sounds same-y to me.  I feel like I can't say anything new about blood and gore to save my life.  And what do you think my supplementary writing is about?  Oh, yes, it's about battles, or rather, one pretty huge battle.  My beloved brother pencil drew several large pictures of this battle, but he is way better at drawing it than I am about writing it.  It makes me sad.  I need to step up my game when it comes to battle scenes.

Thankfully I finished with the battle stuff yesterday, so I can get down to the more enjoyable portion of this writing.

Oh, and speaking of brothers, my oldest younger brother graduated from high school this past week, and guess who came out to help us celebrate!  If you read the title, then you probably already know.  It was our CBCs.  Yes, quite, as Jessa Bri would say.

We had an amazing time playing the Question Game and Bluff, not to mention eating everything in sight and singing long and loudly.

I miss them already.

And, of course, there's always reading.  Right now I am beta reading Kiri Liz's Secret of the Hazel Tree and intensely enjoying it.  I mean, who doesn't like Cinderella?  Combine Cinderella with a murder mystery, and you have a whoppingly great story.

Everyone needs this book when it comes out.

In fact, you need this book right now.  Since you can't have it, here is a link to some snippets.  Click me.
Do it for your own sake, if not for mine.

What else am I reading?  Well, I am well into The Old Curiosity Shop, which I posted about last week, and I'm also reading My Antonia by Willa Cather.  I'm also reading Peter Pan again, because that's just a fun book.  And I may be getting some more murder mysteries out of the library soon, because I need another Agatha Christie fix.

As for music, acting on a comment of Kiri's during our visit this past weekend, I looked up music from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, specifically "Out There."  What a nice song!  I've never seen the movie, but now I kind of want to.  I've also been listening to Wagner, but that might just be because posting about Sagouse Parenneer put me in mind of it.  I do like Wagner, though.

Thanks for reading, and God bless,

Beautiful People - Sagouse Pareneer

I'm linking up for Beautiful People this month with The Notebook Sisters.  And my beautiful person is:

Sagouse Pareneer

He's the prince of Mistwelia, one of the eight principalities of Eshtelroth.  He's handsome, witty, and has been carrying on a feud with the ruling family of Kempra, the Jurnavekkes, for as long as anyone can remember.  Yep.  He has problems.  Lots of problems.  Because when he catches a very annoying princess of the Jurnavekke family trying to sneak through Mistwelia, he can't just let her go.  That would be majorly out of character for the persona he's tried to keep before the Eshtelrothans.

And now for the questions!

1. What is their full name, and is there a story behind why they got it?
Sagouse's full name is His Highness Sagouse Pareneer, Ruling Prince of Mistwelia.  He inherited his unusual name from his grandfather.  Most of the people in Mistwelia have unusual names.

2. How old are they, and when were they born?
Sagouse is about thirty at the time of The Peasants of Niminwell.  He was born thirty years previous to his thirtieth birthday.

3. Describe their physical appearance. (I hate these types of questions!)
Sagouse is tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, etc.  He's basically a very good-looking person, which is important, because at first it seems that his character does not fit his physical appearance.  He has a pleasant-looking face, blond hair, and blue eyes.  Think Hitler youth in medieval garb, and you'll be close to the mark.
3. a) What is their race/nationality/ethnicity?
Sagouse is Eshtelrothan, more specifically, Mistwelian.  Because the eight principalities of Eshtelroth used to be their own separate realms, they can be quite different culturally.  Mistwelia is most similar to Niminwell, the main principality, because it is a close neighbor.  One unique characteristic of the Mistwelians is that they tend to have longer, fancier names than folks from other principalities.
3. b) Do you have a picture of them?  If so, include it.
I regret to say that I have not found the perfect picture of Sagouse yet.  Sorry!

4. Describe the character's personality first in one word, and then elaborate with a few sentences.
Impulsive. Sagouse is mostly meant to be a foil to Prince Wester of Niminwell, who is quiet and idealistic.  Sagouse is the opposite.  He acts hastily, always imagining that he has a really good plan, even though he probably doesn't.  For instance, he came up with his idea to teach Venian Jurnavekke a good lesson in manners on the spur of the moment, even though he delayed the princess from reaching Niminwell with very important news.

5. What theme song(s) fit their personality and story arc?
Hmmmmm.  That's a hard one.  See, it's hard to imagine Sagouse liking music very much.  He's too actively mischievous to think about music.  The song I would pick to describe his personality would be "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" from Mary Poppins.  He's about as energetic and spontaneous as that song.  If he were to listen to music, though, he would probably prefer something like Wagner's Ride of the Valkyrie.

6. Which one of the seven deadly sins describes your character?
I like this question!  Good job, question asking people.  Sagouse suffers mostly from envy.  His principality is in between the most important and the most beautiful principalities.  Mistwelia is one of the more insignificant regions, and Sagouse does not like that at all.  He wants to be as important as Wester of Niminwell.  Most of the time he doesn't think to hard about it, but sometimes it just wells up inside of him and makes him hopping mad.

7. If they were an elemnet (fire, water, earth, air), which one would they be?
Sagouse would definitely be water.  He always appears cool and collected on the outside, but he usually has something going on underneath.  He's flexible, but sometimes he can freeze up if he's offended too deeply.

8. What's their favorite word?
Gregarious.  Definitely gregarious.

9. Who's one person they really miss? (It could be someone who's passed away, or someone they're not close to anymore, or someone who's moved away.)
Sagouse misses his  father.  He thinks his father died too young and left him in charge too early.  That's true, of course.

10. What sights, sounds, and smells remind them of that person?
Sagouse is reminded of his father by the sight of anything in the palace.  That's why he usually spends his time in a smaller castle.  The sound of leather rubbing on leather (as in a leather strap on a leather vest), makes him think of his father, because the old prince always used to wear his hunting leathers.  Also, the smell of roasting venison makes him think of his father, because that was the prince's favorite food.

Well, that's Prince Sagouse Pareneer.  He's not as flighty as he seems, nor is he as calm as he makes the appearance of being.  To most people who see him, he's an open enigma.  They can't figure out how anyone so obviously open and fun-loving can be so mysterious at the same time.

Thanks for reading, and God bless,

Kathryn

Summer Job

Sometimes summer jobs can be epic!

For instance, my job requires me to sit at a desk and answer phone calls and basically do nothing else all day.  Yes!  For eight hours, people, I am answering a slow, very slow, stream of phone calls.  My fellow switchboard workers and I hunch around the phones, waiting for one to ring so we can pounce upon the call like a ravenous wolf.  Basically, we are easily amused.

I have, however, found that this is an excellent time for reading (and blogging, incidentally!).  I can't really leave the desk, in case we get a mythological deluge of phone calls which I have been assured does happen.  So, I bring a couple of books with me to work and read for eight hours.

Does this not strike you as an ideal job?

Right now I'm reading The Old Curiosity Shop.  I've actually heard very little about this book.  After all, BBC has not done a recent period drama based on it. (At least, not that I've heard.)  Thus, I have no idea of how the story is going to turn.  This makes it an exciting read.  It's longer than Tale of Two Cities, my favorite Dickens, but not quite as long as Bleak House or Nicholas Nickleby.

I'm really enjoying it.  First of all, it's different from any other Dickens book that I've read in that the protagonist is a little girl.  That is enough to grab my interest right there.  Plus, we have Mr. Quilp, your quintessential Dickens character.  He's a dwarf, and he's evil.  Very evil.

But then there's Kit, and I love Kit so much.  He's a boy that works for Little Nell's grandfather, and he is amazing!  He's so kind and considerate, and he loves his mother and little brothers so much.  (If Dickens kills him off, I shall be very much put out.)

And let's not forget Mrs. Jiniwin, Quilp's mother-in-law.  She's horrible, but not quite as horrible as Quilp.

Anywho, that's what I'm reading now.  I have a feeling that this book could end up on my list of Dickens books that I like, as opposed to Great Expectations, which is on my list of Dickens books that I really don't like at all.

I'm also editing Alicia sporadically, which means that I'm on the second chapter and it's taking a long time because I'm suddenly having a difficult time with new ideas to add to the story.  I believe the technical term is plot bunnies.

Also I'm beta reading Kiri's book, with great enjoyment, I might add.

Also I'm helping to plan a costume party for July.

Also I'm getting ready to go home for my brother's high school graduation.  SQUEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Thanks for reading, and God bless,

Kathryn

P.S. I was curious so I just looked it up, and apparently there's a 2007 BBC movie of TOCS.  I have not yet seen it, though, and I don't know if it's any good.  However, we shall see!