Thursday Thirteen - 175 - 13 Things My Sister Will Say to Her New Husband on Their Wedding Night

At my sister's second bridal shower a few weeks ago, she had no idea that her fiance's cousin was diligently writing down everything she was saying as she opened her gifts.

This also happened to me at one of my showers. Freakin' riot!

The fun begins when all of the comments suddenly stop being about the shower gifts, and transform into:

What Michelle will say to Newt on their wedding night














1 - Oh wow! Oh - let's see what it looks like!

2 - Oh my! It's the famous Magic Bullet.

3 - 15 inch diameter. 3-in-one. That's wicked. Thank you.

4 - Do not pierce skin.

5 - Ooops!

6 - How very original - Ha! Ha! Ha! - don't give me any ideas!

7 - Like that - that's great - oh my God - there's more back there!

8 - I'm trying to open as quick as I can.

9 - Oh, is it stuck? Is it stuck? I thought it was stuck.

10 - Oh! Is it? Oh - ooo! Oh my!

11 - Look at this - it's 3-D.

12 - Both of them? Ah ha ha ha ha!

13 - I wonder if anyone else has ever gotten this?

Wordless Wednesday - 165

Poetry Train Monday - 168 - Son of Whispers

Well - I did it.

Starting on the night of July 31st/Aug. 1st until the night of Aug. 31st/Sept. 1st, I wrote a total of 31 poems for the 3:15 Experiment.

"Founded in 1993 by poets Danika Dinsmore and Bernadette Mayer, the 3:15 Experiment is an annual 'collective consciousness' writing experiment.

Each year a menagerie of poets scattered across the globe wake EVERY August morning at 3:15 am and write. An epic conversation, this exercise explores hypnogogic and hypnopompic states (between sleeping and waking), challenges writers and provides insight into the collective sleeping/dreaming mind."

- Gwendolyn Lawrence Alley / Danika Dinsmore / Tod McCoy

Technically, the idea is to set your alarm for 3:15, wake up and write a poem, but I had already decided that the alarm thing wouldn't be necessary, as I generally get up at least once a night. The poets who run this event also insisted that the exact time wasn't important, as many people who would participate in this event are naturally awake at 3:15 am.

The important part was to write in that sleepy, half-awake state. And to be honest, I feel that I've never written poetry so easily or so vividly.

I've definitely been learning over the years to ignore my inner editor and just write. It's never been easy for me. But I've kept at it. In fact, writing this blog has been an instrumental part of learning to let go and just post it, already.

For the month of August I posted five of my 3:15 poems - in their raw state, as scribbled in the hazy dream state:

At Least

I Love Your Desire

Expecting Someone Altogether Different

You Reached Out

Defining Moment #3

I'll be posting all of my 2010 3:15 poems on the Poetry Train, as they appeared in my bedside notebook. If I work on any of them in the future, I'll state the transformation status.

This is a backstory poem for the adult Scorpius, whose childhood I'm exploring for my serialized Saturday fiction. I did a series of poems exploring this period in Scorpius' life, and it brought on an actual nightmare for me - an unusual and jarring experience.

















Son of Whispers


Dragged to the room of torment
He expected to see
The man whose unlimited creativity
Drew the sounds he most despised
From the darkest parts of himself
He expected to see
One lord or another
Who stood in the gloom
To question him
He did not expect to see
The fellow captive

This man
Was definitely
Of the blood
Though just as pale
Just as frightened

Yet it wasn't the noble prisoner
Who howled
When the lord
Would not answer their questions
Dragged to this room whenever
Their captors needed privileged information
He watched the
Tears collect and fall
In the eyes of the nobles
Who fought to keep their secrets
At his expense

Over time
There were things he
Expected to see
But when his fellow captives
Were freed by ransom
He did not expect
To hear the voices raised
Beyond his cell door
The negotiating
The keys jingling
The door creaking open
Yet no guards to drag him
To the rendezvous with agony

He did not expect
To see the face of the noble
Pale
Haunted
Resolute
He did not expect
To see the lord's hand
Reach out to beckon
To coax him forward
Who could expect
That their freedom
Would demand his own?
The shock stole the strength
From his legs
Which refused to work
His head swam
His heart beat too fast
But freedom would not be
His undoing

He dug past the point
Deep inside himself
The point which always
Slammed hard into resolve
The point his jailers knew
So many routes to uncover
He grabbed fast to that part of himself
He made his legs move forward
He ignored the tipping
Of the walls and ceiling
He crossed the threshold
Into the corridor
Not dragged

He knelt before the noble
Who had wept at his torment
Who'd never given up his secrets
Who'd come for him now
When his own freedom
Would have made it easy
To leave the son of whispers
To perish on the damp stone floor

© Julia Smith, Aug. 11, 2010

For more poetry, Ride the Poetry Train!

Janet says Tied in with what I've read on your Writer's Weekend - just makes me want to read more. And congrats on the 31 poems. Amazing what we can do when we leave that internal editor snoring in bed, eh?

Travis Cody says Powerful.

Art Predator says Congrats, Julia - 31 3:15 poems in 31 days! YOU DID IT! Whee! And what a rip roaring poem you posted too! I'm so impresed that you'd awake with a character in mind to write about.

Summer Stock Sunday - 30

My vintage look at summer for Summer Stock Sunday, hosted by Robin at Around the Island.

Here in the Maritimes, September can pretty much be counted on for at least one hurricane to usher out the summer.

Seven years ago, we lived through Hurricane Juan, which really did a number on Halifax.













This is what we woke up to after a really scary night on September 28th/29th, 2003 - shredded leaves plastering the house. We lost four trees, and the power was out for five days.













This is a shot I took at Point Pleasant Park once they let the public in for a two-day mourning period. The park is at the head of Halifax Harbour, and its stately evergreen forest was totally flattened.














Last summer we had a visit from Hurricane Bill, which was thankfully not terribly destructive but did manage to pull an idiotic sightseer into the killing surf out at Peggy's Cove. The guy was rescued, which means Nature is stuck with his fantastic DNA to pass on to future generations. So much for natural selection.














Here's what yesterday's Hurricane Earl looked like from safe inside our cozy house.














My husband and I watched a tree go down in the greenbelt behind our house. Several more trees just behind us went over or were snapped off, but we didn't lose any in our yard this time. My uncle, unfortunately, has one leaning on his roof. The winds were pretty strong - gusting to over 100 km/h or 62 mph.

CLICK BELOW to see footage of Hurricane Earl from our house.



Robin says Yikes. I sure don't miss hurricanes... Double yikes on the idiot in the surf. Darwin award anyone?

Weekend Writer's Retreat - 23

Here's the latest installment of Scorpius' boyhood back story.

Scorpius is a character from my dark fantasy work in progress. For the first twelve scenes I've posted for the Weekend Writer's Retreat, we've followed him as a seven-year-old, when he outgrew the nursery where he'd been brought up with the other children of the blood.

But when no one from his family came to claim him, Scorpius was released to serve a falcon master as an apprentice.

We rejoin him at age ten.

An incident that took place at the falconer's cottage three years ago has political repercussions that now haunt Scorpius and his master, Richolf.

You can follow the progress of this story arc by clicking on the Works in Progress link just under the blog header.



Scene 23

With the arrival of Ingerith, Scorpius was free to sleep in his own bed for the first time in over a week. He hadn’t realized how poorly he’d rested until that first night. No more keeping an ear out for Richolf. No more dodging out of the way before his master bolted awake from nightmares.

He awoke the morning after her arrival to find the day well underway. He leaped out of bed, hopped into his clothes and tore across the main room. He nearly collided with Ingerith, who juggled several dishes in her hands.

“Watch yourself!” Richolf barked.

He couldn’t even apologize. Words lodged in his throat at the sight of his master’s sweetheart once again preparing a meal for them all to share.

“Come and sit,” was all she said.

Scorpius stole a glance over at Richolf, who simmered with the ill temper of a man too long abed who is used to full days of activity.

Gathering his courage, Scorpius said, “I should see to the falcons, sir. It’s late.”

Before his master could answer, Ingerith pulled a chair from the table and bade Scorpius to sit. “A few moments more won’t be missed by the birds. You need to start your day with something in your belly. Now come.”

Something about her manner made any thought except obedience completely out of the question. Scorpius walked over the stone floor and sat on the chair, gazing down at the plate of food piled generously and artfully.

Stealing a glance at his master’s pallet still set up on the kitchen floor, Scorpius watched as Ingerith knelt beside his master, already coaxing a reluctant smile from his lips. Her care and her presence here had pulled Richolf from the low mood that had dogged all of Scorpius’ efforts to get the falconer back on his feet.

“You mustn’t give me trouble,” she said to Richolf, both of them smiling at one another. It astonished Scorpius that she could lift his master’s mood so completely.

“I thought you told me it’s the only thing I’m good at,” Richolf said.

‘It is the only thing you’re good at,” she said, forcing him to bite into a sweetcake she’d made for him.

Scorpius shouldn’t listen to them. He should eat up and run out back to start attending to the birds. A few of the falcons would be fussy and hard to handle by now. But there was something about Ingerith that made Scorpius tingle all over whenever she spoke. Why should he hurry? She’d gone out of her way to prepare this lovely meal for him.

His master and his sweetheart laughed softly as she continued to feed him. Scorpius could not get over the shock of discovering this side of Richolf. Everything about his master brightened when she said things to him, when she smiled at him, when her fingers brushed Richolf’s temple.

She worked miracles with her salves, as well. All of Richolf’s burns, slashes and bruises were well on their way to disappearing since she’d come to the cottage.

Scorpius concentrated on his dish of food. He sometimes felt a stab of jealousy when all of her efforts bore such wondrous fruit, while the hours he’d stayed with Richolf, dressing the nauseating wounds, listening to the midnight ravings, when none of these had brought relief to his master.

“…won’t be able to stay much longer,” she was saying.

Scorpius stopped chewing.

“I know what it means that you came out here,” Richolf said.

“Yes,” she said, rising to her feet. “It means you very rudely missed our appointed meeting time.”

“I tried telling them that, but they’d have none of it,” Richolf said.

Glancing up again, Scorpius saw the playfulness dancing in his master’s eyes as he followed her movements. Was he truly joking about the torture whose memories pierced the nights with his cries?

Ingerith sat at the table beside Scorpius, leaning her chin into her palm. “When you’re done eating,” she said, “and when you’ve seen to all the birds out back, I’ll need to go over his care with you.”

As though she could feel the stab in his chest at the suggestion that he didn’t know how to care for his master, Ingerith leaned in close. “I’ll show you what all the salves and tonics are for. You’ll need them. The better he feels, the more insufferable he becomes.”

She smiled a conspiratorial grin, wrapping Scorpius in a blanket of acknowledgment that warmed him like afternoon sunlight. Still, no words would come to him. He simply nodded and forced another bite of food down his throat.

© Julia Smith, 2010

Galit Breen says Julia, what an exciting and amazing work in progress! I'm so impressed and inspired.

Naquillity says This story gets better with age. I'm loving your characters and this Ingerith is bringing a certain bit of mystery to the story as well.

Ann Pino says I love the psychological things going on here. So much is happening just below the surface. Intriguing.

5 on Friday - Set 30

Travis at Trav's Thoughts invites everyone to lay down a short set of music that takes their fancies for his 5 on Friday meme.

Today's set is dedicated to my sister Michelle and her husband-to-be, Newt.

They will be joining their lives in a ceremony next weekend, and we're deep in the joyous preparations for their very special day.

1 - Get Me To The Church On Time - Matt Dusk

I got to get there in the morning
Spruced up and looking in my prime
Girls come and kiss me
Say that you'll miss me
But get me to the church on time

- Lerner / Loewe



2 - Chapel of Love - The Dixie Cups

Bells will ring
The sun will shine
I'll be his and he'll be mine
We'll love until the end of time
And we'll never be lonely anymore

Because we're

Going to the chapel and we're
Going to married
Going to the chapel of love

- Barry / Greenwich / Spector



3 - From This Moment - Shania Twain

I give my hand to you with all my heart
I can't wait to live my life with you
I can't wait to start

You and I will never be apart

My dreams
Came true
Because
Of you

From this moment
As long as I live
I will love you
I promise you this

There is nothing
I wouldn't give
From this moment on

- Lange / Twain



4 - Somewhere Over the Rainbow - Judy Garland

This is my sister's processional song.

Somewhere
Over the rainbow
Skies are blue

And the dreams
That you dare to dream
Really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up
Where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt
Like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

- Arlen / Harburg

CLICK HERE to watch the clip














5 - Where or When - Frank Sinatra

Some things that happened for the first time
Seem to be happening again

And so it seems
That we have met before
And laughed before
And loved before

But who knows where
Or when

- Hart / Rodgers



Thomma Lyn Grindstaff says Oh Julia, those are wonderful songs. They made me smile. :) Especially "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." I've always loved that one and I always will.

Julianne MacLean says These are lovely! It's going to be a great day :)

Jamie says Absolutely perfect group for an impending wedding. May the couple be very happy together for the rest of their lives. Where or When is my favorite. It may be the only song ever written about Deja Vue or reincarnation. :-)

Thursday Thirteen - 174 - 13 Ways to Enjoy Two Wedding Showers

1 - Last weekend was a bridal shower double bill for my sister.

The first was a city shower hosted by my mom and my cousin, and was held at my cousin's house.


























2 - Above, Julianne MacLean and her cousin/bestest friend/critique partner, the bride-to-be, Michelle.

My sister with our mom, Paulette.



























3 - Tasty shower delectables.



























4 - Catching up with friends and family.































5 - Time to open prezzies. Including lovely confections like this lingerie.














6 - And this collection of recipes from my sister's friends at the office.


















7 - A new day, a new shower! This time at the cottage.



























8 - This shower was hosted by Michelle's new family-in-law-to-be. Above, her fiance's mother Joan chats with her lifelong friend.

My sister's new family-in-law has sisters, step-daughters, cousins, nieces and a step-granddaughter.































9 - More delish dishes of yumminess.












































10 - More fun - above, my mom nabs her gift back during a Yankee gift exchange.

The photographer informs Michelle what she'll be saying to Newt on the wedding night. These are taken from all of the bride-to-be's remarks as she opens her gifts. Hilarious!












































11 - More frothy confections!














12 - Newt's sister bestows a handmade cooking apron to Michelle. Now she's in like Flynn.

















13 - A lifetime of happiness is wished for Michelle and Newt!

Join me next week to hear what my sister's shower predicted would be her wedding night words.

Janet says I can't wait to read the 'wedding night vows' next week - I've been to showers that have played that game and it always turns out to be hilarious :)

Anne MacFarlane says Julia, it looks like so much fun. Hope Michelle's big day is just as wonderful.

Kelly Boyce says Congratulations to Michelle and Newt! I'm so happy for them.