“Don’t be a Cat in the Doorway!”

I have no idea how many times Sib and I heard that growing up. We’d hesitate in the middle of the doorway, either looking at something or trying to make up our mind if we wanted to go out or stay out or come in, and MomRed’s voice would echo down the hallway, ‘Go or come. Don’t be a cat in the doorway!” We heard it almost as often as “Close the icebox door! You’re letting all the cold air out.” Continue reading

Overheard in the Halls, Part Four

Mrs. Heiden: The world religion classes will be in the gym tomorrow. We’re doing tai chi.

Sr. Scholastica (aka The Dean): Thus the dress code change request. Understood. [makes notes] Will you be leading it?

Mrs. Heiden: No, Mrs. Chi from the college continuing ed program will. But I know how. [takes a tai chi pose] If anyone ever tries to mug me in slow motion, I’m ready.

***********************************************************************************

Continue reading

“It Ties the Room Together.”

The small, patches-of-colors rug that held down the floor in the family room at Redquarters reached the point of replacement, or so Mom and Dad Red said. I hadn’t noticed. I just vacuumed it and swept out from under it. Mom and Dad went rug shopping, found an option and placed an order. Said rug was supposed to be small-ish, say 3′ X 6′, and mostly serve to keep the ottoman from scratching the laminate floor. They paid for the small rug and waited.

The new rug arrived. It was installed.

Wait, you say. Install a throw rug? What? Continue reading

Green Beer Day

OK, not really. For some this is a day to honor one’s Irish ancestry and heritage, and to eat corned beef and cabbage and potatoes, drink good beer (Guinness, Harp, et al), listen to Irish music, and honor the efforts of an early Christian missionary who is associated with Ireland although he is a Briton. If you are a politician in Boston or New York City, you’d better be seen at an Irish event, or your absence Will Be Noted.

Yes, this is an Orthodox icon of an Irish saint from Britain. Next question?

Continue reading

Scribble, Scribble, Scrunch into Corner

So there I was, peering over Old NFO’s elbow, trying to read the accession number on the little tag hanging off the 1878 Smith and Wesson .44 Russian, so I could record it along with the fountain of information pouring forth, but the floodgate had opened, hands were moving and it was all I could do to write down numbers, names, and details. Peter Grant was looking at another revolver, inspecting some modifications, and I couldn’t remember if I’d written that one down yet or not. Five more revolvers lay on the counter in front of us, swords and spears and a few maces hung from brackets on the wall, and Dorothy Grant had wisely tucked herself into the corner with a book, well clear of overflows of enthusiasm. The curator alternated between making note of what had been looked at and asking questions. I had unleashed a monster: knowledgable experts with nearly unlimited examples to inspect, poke, and teach from. What hath Alma wrought?!? Continue reading

Tuesday Tale: Second Editions

No matter the genre, or if it is non-fiction, authors need to triple check the final proof of their manuscript before it is published. Why? Well . . .

The crystal ball beside her desk began wiggling on its stand. Morgana reached over absentmindedly, patted the top to stop the vibration and waited for the incoming text. It was from Dolores.

“Hey, thanks for the thunderstorm you’re throwing my way! Better than fire or dust!”

Morgana frowned, rotated in her seat and typed on the magic-only keyboard, “Thppppth. That was supposed to stay up here. Mutter, mutter no more bargain bin eye of newt.” It really had been commanded to stay locally, but Waldo had muffed the winds aloft forecast.

“…and the voice in the back of my head says ‘lines you’d see in chat with an evil overlord’s friends… Um, was that eye of newt or Aya’s snoot?”

“Eye of newt. Gotta use water creatures to get water elementals.” Didn’t Dolores remember that? Oh wait, no, Morgana remembered, Dolores specialized in automata and mechanical charms, not the traditional elemental spells.

“Ah! No wonder the hellbender is going extinct; people keep mistaking it for a non-water creature!

“You got it. There was a terrible typo in ‘Summoners’ Monthly’ a few years ago, and…”

“Was it a typo, or a conspiracy of editors? Must we keep the blue pencil of evil back in the vault? Don’t they know not to mess with eldritch artifacts?”

“I’d let my subscription lapse by then so I don’t know. I heard that they started outsourcing their editors and that never ends well. Especially with spell casting. You’d have thought the disaster at Necromancy Digest would have been enough of a warning!” Continue reading