There are two words I taught Jen today during our morning session. They are both Gaelic words so not something she -- or you -- would be familiar with.
Cabbyl - Horse, specifically, a mare
In chapter 3 of my story, Aidan, my beloved, rides a chestnut mare that my sister had named "Cabbyl" years ago.
Ciùin - be quiet (actually, "become quiet")
This is something I tell the horses when they become spooked by Aidan due to her Gift.
That is all for the moment.
A seirc.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Blessed Be!
There must apparently be some kind of benevolent deity in your world. I don't know if you acknowledge the gods of my time, the Christian God, or some other variant of deity. In truth, it doesn't matter.
Jen is in a place she calls the Writers' Colony at Dairy Hollow in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.
She is working on my story!
Thank whatever god you believe in. It is nigh a miracle to me, I kid you not. I had given up hope that she would ever return to me and my story. Especially once she started talking about this new idea she has that she calls "Navajo Rose," whatever the bloody hell that is.
I don't know if she will work on mine and my ancestor's exclusively, but the fact that she will be working on it at least some of the time is cause for celebration.
Break out the ale and mead!
A seirc.
Jen is in a place she calls the Writers' Colony at Dairy Hollow in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.
She is working on my story!
Thank whatever god you believe in. It is nigh a miracle to me, I kid you not. I had given up hope that she would ever return to me and my story. Especially once she started talking about this new idea she has that she calls "Navajo Rose," whatever the bloody hell that is.
I don't know if she will work on mine and my ancestor's exclusively, but the fact that she will be working on it at least some of the time is cause for celebration.
Break out the ale and mead!
A seirc.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Beyond Aggravated and Some Observations
"Go write something," she says, "so I can get in your head and work on your story."
Fine. I try. Then she leaves. When she goes, I have to as well.
She claims she doesn't know me well enough to write my story. Yet when I try to tell her, she doesn't have time or she's busy or she's doing gods-know-what!
Tell me how am I supposed to compete with all the busy-ness this modern world throws at her? At anyone?
Why tell the bloody story? If the rest of this gods-forsaken world is anything like this, who would read it if it were to get printed and distributed? Would anyone care?
Why should they?
If Jen doesn't care, why the bloody hell would anyone else? I fail to see the reasoning in it. I must be daft to think the telling of my story would do anything other than occupy a few hundred pieces of paper in a notebook she carries around.
But be that as it may.
I got to meet her neices yesterday. The older girl is tall for her age. She and some other girls played a game where they used a club (correction, a bat) to hit a ball off of a stand. They called it t-ball. Her neice is good. Perhaps too good for the age group she has to play with. But that's not for me to say.
While the game went on, I played with the twins. Two little girls with hair so curly and eyes so blue, you'd have to see them to believe it. Both full of mischief and just starting to walk. One thinks she can run.
There is a lot going on there that I can't begin to get into. Let's just say I don't understand it and leave it at that? Family is important. Why so many people fail to understand that, I will never know.
During the game, Jen wrote in a small notepad, drawing looks and frowns from her sister. Why should she disapprove when it isn't her business? Has she given up on her goals and so she expects Jen to do the same?
I, for one, hope she doesn't even if I am aggravated with her.
Speaking of Jen, it amazes me how she can find so many ideas for her writing seeingly out of nowhere. She saw this car and has an idea for a character based just on that. I won't bore you with that, though. If you want to see it, I invite you to go read about it at Créatif.
I believe I'm at risk of making this entry too long. For now, I will say only:
A seirc.
Fine. I try. Then she leaves. When she goes, I have to as well.
She claims she doesn't know me well enough to write my story. Yet when I try to tell her, she doesn't have time or she's busy or she's doing gods-know-what!
Tell me how am I supposed to compete with all the busy-ness this modern world throws at her? At anyone?
Why tell the bloody story? If the rest of this gods-forsaken world is anything like this, who would read it if it were to get printed and distributed? Would anyone care?
Why should they?
If Jen doesn't care, why the bloody hell would anyone else? I fail to see the reasoning in it. I must be daft to think the telling of my story would do anything other than occupy a few hundred pieces of paper in a notebook she carries around.
But be that as it may.
I got to meet her neices yesterday. The older girl is tall for her age. She and some other girls played a game where they used a club (correction, a bat) to hit a ball off of a stand. They called it t-ball. Her neice is good. Perhaps too good for the age group she has to play with. But that's not for me to say.
While the game went on, I played with the twins. Two little girls with hair so curly and eyes so blue, you'd have to see them to believe it. Both full of mischief and just starting to walk. One thinks she can run.
There is a lot going on there that I can't begin to get into. Let's just say I don't understand it and leave it at that? Family is important. Why so many people fail to understand that, I will never know.
During the game, Jen wrote in a small notepad, drawing looks and frowns from her sister. Why should she disapprove when it isn't her business? Has she given up on her goals and so she expects Jen to do the same?
I, for one, hope she doesn't even if I am aggravated with her.
Speaking of Jen, it amazes me how she can find so many ideas for her writing seeingly out of nowhere. She saw this car and has an idea for a character based just on that. I won't bore you with that, though. If you want to see it, I invite you to go read about it at Créatif.
I believe I'm at risk of making this entry too long. For now, I will say only:
A seirc.
Monday, April 30, 2007
She Promised
I'm making this public knowledge.
Jen has promised that after the conference she is going to at the end of this week, she will begin working in earnest on my story.
It's about time.
Yes, I'm aggravated. I'm impatient. Wouldn't you be?
She spends all day at this infernal machine. I would think at least part of that time could be spent on my story.
I will rein in my impatience and my temper (yet another legacy from dear old great-great-great-grandfather Kiernan - at least, that is what my father always said, gods rest his soul).
A seirc.
Jen has promised that after the conference she is going to at the end of this week, she will begin working in earnest on my story.
It's about time.
Yes, I'm aggravated. I'm impatient. Wouldn't you be?
She spends all day at this infernal machine. I would think at least part of that time could be spent on my story.
I will rein in my impatience and my temper (yet another legacy from dear old great-great-great-grandfather Kiernan - at least, that is what my father always said, gods rest his soul).
A seirc.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
My Notebook Is Done
This may sound silly to a lot of you. I assure you, it is not. It is, truthfully, a big step in the right direction.
For my ancestor's book -- "Kiernan's Curse" -- Jen set up a notebook. She finally has mine set up. She claims she didn't have the right kind of notebook. Now that it is put together, I understand what she meant. There is a clear pocket on the front where she put a sheet of paper. She put the title of my story -- "Devon's Wish" -- on it along with this:
She printed what we have done so far, including some notes and points of interest I told her needed to be included. They are all in the notebook.
Ah, she says if you want to know how the notebook is set up, you can see a description of it here. (Ach, that is a difficult process, the linking.)
A seirc.
For my ancestor's book -- "Kiernan's Curse" -- Jen set up a notebook. She finally has mine set up. She claims she didn't have the right kind of notebook. Now that it is put together, I understand what she meant. There is a clear pocket on the front where she put a sheet of paper. She put the title of my story -- "Devon's Wish" -- on it along with this:
She printed what we have done so far, including some notes and points of interest I told her needed to be included. They are all in the notebook.
Ah, she says if you want to know how the notebook is set up, you can see a description of it here. (Ach, that is a difficult process, the linking.)
A seirc.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
I'm Getting Impatient
Nothing has been done on my story this week.
Nothing.
I realize I should be patient, but I'm getting quite impatient. I can't fault Jen, yet... I do.
A week ago, she slept on this thing she called a futon and it bothered her back. Since then, she has sat at the desk only long enough to do her work for the day. And that is with frequent breaks.
I know she hurts. I know she is not comfortable. But I don't want her to forget me or my story. I think she has been working on it in her head, though. At least, that's what she says.
She named my story "Devon's Wish" but, at first, when I asked her, she couldn't say what the wish was. Now she knows. And I agree. It is something I will wish with my entire being when we are finally able to get to that point.
Her back is tightening up again. I can tell by the way she sits and the look on her face. If I don't make her go lie down, it will get worse to the point she will be near tears when she tries to stand.
I don't understand this time I find myself in. In my time, at home, you wouldn't do purposely something that would cause you so much discomfort. Aye, it happened but it was in a day's work and we didn't try to fight our bodies to keep going when we knew we should do what it took to recover.
Personally, it is my belief that if she isn't better by Monday, she needs to go see her healer. Ah, pardon, doctor. It's unfortunate she can't go tomorrow.
A seirc.
Nothing.
I realize I should be patient, but I'm getting quite impatient. I can't fault Jen, yet... I do.
A week ago, she slept on this thing she called a futon and it bothered her back. Since then, she has sat at the desk only long enough to do her work for the day. And that is with frequent breaks.
I know she hurts. I know she is not comfortable. But I don't want her to forget me or my story. I think she has been working on it in her head, though. At least, that's what she says.
She named my story "Devon's Wish" but, at first, when I asked her, she couldn't say what the wish was. Now she knows. And I agree. It is something I will wish with my entire being when we are finally able to get to that point.
Her back is tightening up again. I can tell by the way she sits and the look on her face. If I don't make her go lie down, it will get worse to the point she will be near tears when she tries to stand.
I don't understand this time I find myself in. In my time, at home, you wouldn't do purposely something that would cause you so much discomfort. Aye, it happened but it was in a day's work and we didn't try to fight our bodies to keep going when we knew we should do what it took to recover.
Personally, it is my belief that if she isn't better by Monday, she needs to go see her healer. Ah, pardon, doctor. It's unfortunate she can't go tomorrow.
A seirc.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Rain (or Homesick)
When the clouds hang low and it rains, I'm reminded of home. The horizon is vastly different and the smells are as well, yet, there is something about rain that can almost take me back home.
Gods, I wish that were possible.
I mean no offense toward you and your modern times, but it's overwhelming to me. I walk around in it and try to understand but it has so far been beyond my grasp.
I am fascinated by the box called TV. The History channel in particular.
At least Jen has began work on my story again. When it is done, maybe, just maybe, I can return home. Though I won't hold my breath on it. I will eventually learn and adjust.
A seirc.
Gods, I wish that were possible.
I mean no offense toward you and your modern times, but it's overwhelming to me. I walk around in it and try to understand but it has so far been beyond my grasp.
I am fascinated by the box called TV. The History channel in particular.
At least Jen has began work on my story again. When it is done, maybe, just maybe, I can return home. Though I won't hold my breath on it. I will eventually learn and adjust.
A seirc.
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