Sunday, December 19, 2010

Saturday Morning 6:07 am

Saturday morning at 6:07 am my dear mother passed away from cardiac arrest. Her death was completely unexpected and Steve and I are in shock. My heart is broken and I can't possibly explain the levels of emotions that are running through my head and heart. My mother was a devout Catholic. She believed with no doubt that there is a heaven and she did everything she could to assure her spot.

Until this happened I would say that I would be lucky to have the faith of a mustard seed. Now with her gone, I am trying to find my faith again. This experience seems to be bringing me closer to faith. I want now more than ever to believe, I will see her again. I can't stop crying and in fact I don't want to stop crying. I want to cry until there are no more tears left in my body either that or just die and go and be with her but then I would miss my husband and brothers, all my other family members and friends.

Mary Margaret Beach Langley
December 20, 1944 - December 18, 2010
It is the love of my family and friends that is helping me through this. Tomorrow would be my mother's 66th birthday. I have a gift for her. She wanted me to wait and give it to her on her birthday. I wanted to give it to her early because it was a really warm pair of pajamas. It has been so cold lately and I wanted her to wear them. I could have gotten her another present to open on her birthday. She wouldn't let me give her the jams. She did not know what it was but she did not want one single gift early. A friend of hers sent her a Christmas present. I have not opened it yet. I am going to wait until Christmas. Whatever it is I plan to put it with the urn I purchased for her today.

I loved her, her name is Mary and she had a big heart.

Friday, December 17, 2010

New Things for LITM 2011 Blog Entries

  1. Small daily post for every day in 2011 separate from what I have outlined below.
  2. Monday - Small poem by another poet
  3. Tuesday - Inspirational Quote for the week
  4. Wednesday - Something Funny, Weird or Quirky 
  5. Thursday - A Poem by Me.
  6. Friday - Small Story about my Childhood
  7. Saturday - What's on the Menu for the Week ahead
  8. Sunday - A Gratitude Entry
Every year my blog seems to evolve. I never imagined I would attempt to organize it so thoroughly or go to the trouble of writing a list for it. However, I learned something about myself from my Nano experience. I need a schedule or a plan to follow. I am not sure but I think it is imperative for me to make this plan. I love writing on my blog. I crave the attention of the comments. Maybe this is not something I should admit. Oh, well I just did.

I am not sure I like Saturday's feature. I might change that. In fact, I probably will. One piece of art a week. I usually make something in a weeks time. It is not always jewelry. I like to work with paper too. Perhaps I will photograph whatever it is and write a small piece.

Well whatever I decide to do, I am planning to do things a little different. I just hope some of you will find me worthy to continue to follow or maybe even follow if you do not already. It warms my heart when you do.

Mexican Calsilica
Wrapped in 14K gold filled Wire
I made this in 2009

Winter Fae

Borrowed from Google Images

Little water sprites
Dance on winter's frozen lake.

Elegantly dressed in hollyberries
and ice crystals.

Their wings generating
just enough warmth for
their scarcely clad
fae bodies.

They dance with the
centaur, whose
filled their
dance cards,
And wait for
Spring to wake.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Weight of Winter

It is four o' five
it is grey and blustery outside
I am in for a long haul
I must keep to the plan,
keep to the plan.

Bauhaus Yule

Photo by Tess Kincaid

As fragile as hewed stained glass
Interrupted by slippery steps
This awning window fails to open
Changes painful yet evolving or retreating

Aureole composed of aventurine and amberina
Plate big servings of guilt and little else
Melancholia wrapped with handmade paper and silken ribbon
Framing all the honest sentiments
Impassable sentiments. 

Where the evergreen does not adorn
Decorations do not enchant me.
Nor do material articles.
It is the loss of fellowship
Rising like Adagio for strings
burying what hurts most
for the sake of others.

Altering my season
Peace, I crave peace
but not in your
Fragile Baptistery.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

For My Dear Friend

Miles and miles
Separation fills wells of dark dank liquid
And I can smell it like it will be tomorrow.


It might be frosted outside but the
Well is deep and the earth is warm.
The freeze has yet to reach its depths.
And I cry alone watching your moving man
Give you his bid.
How can I ever thank you for all the gifts you
Gave freely of yourself?

You will be missed and loved always.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Dog Sweaters and Hot Toddies

Do dogs really need sweaters?
Do they feel the cold like everyone else?
I think they do.  
Are these sweaters worth a hoot?
No not as far as warmth is concerned.
However, they provide entertainment.

It is funny to watch them wear their sweaters.
They prance around in them like they are going to participate
in Halloween, a masquerade or a parade. 
The leader of my personal pack,
Tobi is the biggest ham bone in his sweater.
He looks like a hound at a ski lodge,
sipping a hot toddy and picking up on the girls.

Speaking of a Hot Toddy,
I am having a sweet one right this very moment.
I added a shot of Amaretto to my hot cocoa
a little whip and sprinkle of cinnamon.
Warning: Must have a sweet tooth for this one!

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

My take on Orlando by Virginia Woolf

Artiste denied
Bluest blood did flow through his veins
Twice Broken
Once abandoned by love
Once his art ridiculed by snobbery
He ascends into himself
Due by the cruelty of others.

She appeared with party by sled
Traversing a frozen sea
Leaving her Russian land
and northern tongue.
A vision dressed in Oyster colored velvet
and greenish colored fur
Blush cheeks and darkest eyes
Strange stunning features
Striking cupid's arrow 
Sincere her gregarious personality
Enchanted and delighted was he
As she mimicked the howl
Not once but three times of
Her hounds left behind.
She virtuous,
Unlike those that pursued him,
Stuffy and confined,
Looking only to crudely secure
his noble purse.

Sasha and he,
Shared one common tongue
Shared by no other
Within their retinue
 Their intimacy would bind them
And capture did she,
His fickle heart completely.
A deal was struck by and between
To meet in secret perhaps to bed or wed.

A few hours was all that separated them... 

The signal came and without warning
Ice pack sudden and irreversible crack
No time to cement a decision to stay
perhaps their love unseasoned?
Back to her sled
swiftly moving, no goodbye said.
Fleeing in the dark,
him left behind
Sasha broke Orlando’s heart.

The flood gates did open
Furniture and fortunes flow the Thames
The swollen river now lake
claimed all the lower levels
water gushed straight from the devil himself 
Did not borrow from its victims
All the life it did take
Those that survive the loss they weep  
Tears bob like crystal ice burgs
Some small but his steep.

Well past the witching hour
Quill after quill
with ink pot to spare
page after page
He did fill

Part II will continue with Nick Greene and will be posted at a later time.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

December 7th and Every Other Day of War

Image borrowed from Google Images
U.S.S. Arizona
December 7, 1941

I wasn’t alive when you died
Now craggy and rusted in the bay’s bottom
The locker of soul’s linger there
If you stop and listen you can hear
2,400 Heartbeats of that kill
The sleeping giant awoke with anger
Retaliatory tear drops spilt more blood
Did we not yearn for peace?
Must we do this time and time again?

Why not honor them with Stillness.

Thursday, December 2, 2010


Beautiful Photo by Tess Kincaid


Some are closed forever
Some can be pried open
Some need oil and a crow bar
Some need to be unlocked
Some need the handle turned and a nudge
Some open with ease
Some open at the sight of you
Some open to please
And some are always open

Closing a Door
Will she cry a thousand tears?
She manifests her worst fears
Jettison those who trusted
Swiftly her deceit lingers still
Chasing after her lies
Is it exhausting or
Does it give her a thrill?

 Questioning a Door
Why open this door
The responsibility
You choose to ignore?

Opening a Door
Perigee  - Our worlds could not be
Perdition keeps your door iced
Closed up tight
Stony habitual silence
Cross sections hack at fractured thoughts
Layers hundreds deep your crinoline
Oil the hinges
Dust the snow from your steps
Allow entry you’ve been closed up tight long enough
Open and display that beacon of kindness.

Monday, November 29, 2010

It was Criminal

Flannel collects and distributes
Your static, it jolts me.
Green polka dot tin held the sugar cookies
A gift to me
Eaten by you.
The prior evening, it was all I talked about.
A homemade cookie, a nice cup of tea,
Reading the Christmas greetings.
I start the kettle
Retreat slipping into cozy socks.
It whistles.
A crimson tea bag saturated and
Progresses, to its zinger.
I open the tin and look in flummoxed,
By the crumbs you left behind.
I was robbed by you.
A mortal sin!
You even managed to get the ribbon back on the tin?
I sigh, dumbfounded by your audacity.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

I made it! I am not finished by any means but I made goal with over 50,000 words written, during the month of November.  This cup, this trophy, it means so much to me. What did I win? A very rough draft that needs to be continued to some form of closure and the personal satisfaction that I could get this far without throwing in the towel!

As I continue with Framescape, I’ve come to learn so much about the process. I have heard other authors say that their characters took on a life of their own. I always thought this was nonsense. I believed it was the writer that was responsible for how her characters behave, not true. They do come alive and they take over. They say and do things that the author would never do. Finally you realize at 40,000 words in that you have no control over them. With that being said, I can’t wait to reach the 100,000 word goal to see how they end up surprising me.
Say What? Chicken Dinner!
Photo by Tess Kincaid
It feels really good to be here at this gigantic milestone. I could not have made it without or the support of my writing friends, readers of my blog and all the little people (Billy, Jack and Steve) that I will never forget with my success.

I hope that if you have a dream to write a novel you will try next November. You might surprise yourself with 50,000 words written, I know I did.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

What I am Thankful For

I am grateful for so many things; however this November, I am thankful for this writing goal and what it means to me.
As I write this, seven days are all that is left of the month of November and my NaNo goal of 50,000 words. Right this very minute, I have 44,111 and a solid idea for the next two chapters. Each chapter seems to average about 2,500 words. Who knows, one or possibly two days more and I will reach my goal. Another goal was also accomplished with this one.
Each new word I add to my story and as my story grows, it is officially the longest story I have ever written. To me that is remarkable. I have dreamt of writing a story of this length for as long as I can remember.  This NaNo challenge helped me to achieve this. I am not there yet but I can see the light shining ever so bright at the end of this tunnel or rather halfway point to my story’s completion. The final goal is a novel length story at or slightly over 100,000 words. I plan to take a little more time in December and January to meet the next 50,000 goal.
March is the kick off for editing my first draft.  With all these goals laid out in front of me and by expressing them to you, makes my drive and determination kick in full speed ahead. However, none of this would be possible had I not managed the first goal. It is the first goal I am most thankful for this Thanksgiving. Below is the famous Norman Rockwell painting from his Freedom series. It is called, Freedom from Want. I think this is timely for so many reasons beside the obvious.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

My Nineteenth Century Dining Table

Description read:
A 19th Century Louis XVI style, mahogany and marquetry dining table, attributed to the famous Parisian cabinet maker Haentges Frères. The frieze is beautifully inlaid with entrelac and paterae marquetry of tulipwood, boxwood and amaranth, and the legs have finely cast gilt-bronze mounts. The brass catches underneath are stamped E.T.S.C.D.G.V.F. A PARIS. The two central leaves have been replaced with new leaves which have been made by hand to a very high standard and which are almost indistinguishable from the original sections. 292cm wide x 129cm deep x 74cm high,(115" wide x 51" deep x 29" high)
Photo provided by Willow
To Write Your Own Magpie

A historical masterpiece 
 Covered in oil cloth  
Expected to protect
One on top of the other
Forming a sticky seal,
 Leaving its residue.

Peeling and peeling
Each layer exposing
Obscurity and toil
Years of covering up
postures and impressions
Hoping to find 
Beauty beneath unspoiled .

And if spoiled praying that
Restoration is possible.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

NaNo NaNu?

My brain is officially fried after today's writing session. I logged in with 2591 words written today. I keep tabs on my other NaNoWriMos buddies and some are amazing with their counts. I read in one of the procrastination stations that one of them wrote 13,000 words in a single day.

The look on Jeff Spicoli's face perfectly shows how I felt upon reading that. How is that even possible? Next question what was that writer on?

What comes to mind is the quote from 1982's teenage wasteland film Fast Times at Ridgemont High, "That is my skull! I am so wasted!" Don't misunderstand me, I am not into illegal drugs but after today that quote seems to fit me to a tee.                                            

I fear that if I write anything else today it will be a waste and I will just end up having to fix it like a D +  (dork)

Which reminds me of Mork from Ork (can you see where this is going? It is not good.)

If you do not know who that is you are fairly young by no fault of your own. If you do, you are at least close to my age. He was the first being to NaNo that I know of but he spelled it a little differently he said, "NaNu NaNu"

Okay I am finished! Here is today's final NaNo word count 

I'm pooped!

Friday, November 12, 2010

Something New

Well the NaNoing is going really well. I have changed directions in my story a couple of times. I almost have a grasp on what it is I am actually trying to write. I had one major freak out when I realized I had written the ending. I calmed myself down and realized I still had a lot of guts left to write. That was a relief because I thought the whole thing was over at about the 16,000 word count. Officially this is the longest word count of any story that I have ever written. I am feeling satisfied with my progress. As, I am well on my way to meeting the goal of 50,000 words by November 30th.

Friends keeping Friends in Check!

My little widget at the side, that keeps you abreast of my progress, is actually functioning in another capacity as well. It seems to have an effect on my conscience too. Since I stated so boldly that I intended to do this and I really don't want to go back on my word, it reminds me of my goal. It keeps me in check. I don't care for the red at the beginning of the day so I try really hard to at least make quota. This is the only way for me to get that box on the calendar to change from red to green.

To all my fellow bloggers cheering me along, thank you for your kind comments and support. Your words are always the highlight of my day. I have told you many times before but I will tell you again, they are gifts and I am grateful that you leave them.

To my fellow Wrimos YOU CAN DO IT! Keep the faith!

And to all and everyone else warm wishes.

P.S. If you see any typos in this post, please overlook them my brain is in first draft mode.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Pearls that Connect Us

Photo Tess Kincade
Magpie Tales

Bas relief dangles
From places too far to see
Etched in places
Too hard to forget

Eyeing those that pass
Tussles smarter words
Detached and hanging
A daunting griffin

Floating past in current
Steampunk fashion
Pearls of youth or youth seekers
Granny styled boots, goggles and beakers
Hair, caffeine addicted writers
Relaying fantastic stories
Animated and ignited

Nothing has changed
From one generation
To another
A trend to be repeated
Again and again.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Good Glory It's A Story!

For all the crazy feelings that came spewing from my guts yesterday, I went to bed last night with the belief that this story was crap and no one will ever want to read it.
Daisy thinking, "A Little Privacy Please!"

I watched my nightly episode of BSG (Battlestar Galactica, season 1, episode 13). Yes it is true! I am that much of a nerd. I love the show and am grateful for Netflix streaming. After the show ended I fell into one of those deep sleeps. It was the kind of sleep that you can only get from utter mental exhaustion.  I am grateful for that too.

I woke up this morning and had a moment of "STORY EUREKA." It was fantastic. I figured out some things about my story and as soon as I could, I got straight to work on it. It is really starting to turn into something I actually like. (Again grateful for that too)
BTW if you have read the first four chapters of Framescape, thank you for taking your time to do that. I love your comments as much as I love Christmas morning and that is no lie. However, those chapters are more like episodes and the novel is a lot deeper. If you have not read it and want to know what all my hipe is, you can clink on the caption underneath the Framescape photo and it will direct you to the site where my story lives.


One last note (okay well two) on day nine of NaNoWriMo; if you have ever had the desire to write a novel yourself becoming an official participant (hopefully prior to November 1st), attending a local write-in and logging word count each day is an excellent way to get it done!
Yeah NaNo!
My Favorite Weekly Writing Prompt
hosted by Willow
Magpie Tales
Tomorrow is Magpie or perhaps Thursday, whatever day the new prompt is posted, I will most likely not be posting a NaNo update on that day. I will not be giving up Magpie during this month of Novel writing frenzy. I have decided that it is too important to me, as is reading all my Magpie friend’s posts. 

Happy writing and warm wishes

Monday, November 8, 2010

Abducted by Aliens

This is me 17, 598 words the morning of day 8. Here is my theme song. You must sing it to the tune of Betty Davis Eyes.

She'll expose you,
then she'll hose you of your feet
and make the nun's blush
She's precocious and she knows just
what it takes to make a pro blush
All the boy's thinks she is fried
She's got Marty Feldman Eyes.

What the Heck am I doing here?

In case you don't remember the song. Here is Gwyneth Paltrow singing it I think a lot better than Kim Carnes but that is just my opinion.

So there you have it. My brain is fried but my story is not. Back to the grind. Oh and I haven't yet been abducted by aliens. They stopped by but then rejected me out of pure selfishness on their part. I am pretty sure they are incahoots with that damn rooster.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

WriMos meet at Hebrew Coffee

I went to my first four hour write-in and I was without a doubt the oldest person there. However, I never really felt that old except that I am undereducated on current pop culture, internet acronyms and I don’t belong to either the Slytherin or Gryffindor houses.  I learned a song that has IRC in the lyric. I have chatted before but I really had no idea what that stood for. I immediately had to look that one up. I was exposed to a webcom called Ensign Sue Must Die and I laughed hysterically at all the funny posts they read aloud.

The younger adults that I spent four hours with today, enlightened me and accepted me into their WriMo group. I realized that I was easily their parent's age but it really did not seem to matter to them at all. It did not matter to me in the least, as I view it the same as making friends from different cultures. There is always a learning curve. I was exposed and am learning about another culture, "the growing up on the Internet culture." It has its own language, its own style and mannerisms.

We all use it the Internet but we use it as a tool this is more of a life staple for these folks. It's just something people in their forties and fifties never experienced. Hell most of us did not even have a VCR growing up and as really little kids cable was just being introduced.

They were more than anxious to share the things we grew up with that they have since parodied. Like the Ferris Bueller button and not the one you pin a shirt but one that you can push and it spews off a quote from the movie. My favorite of course is Ben Stein saying, "Bueller,              Bueller,              Bueller?" 

They are a lively, creative and fun group of people and I look forward to creating with and learning from them.
We are schedule for the next write-in at the Library Center not far from where I live. The best thing about the group was that I actually got some writing done and was given a really excellent quote (actual quote I underlined) for one of my characters to say. The quote was too funny, I forget where it came from (another webcom) but everyone including me enjoyed it.
A little excerpt from my story that got us all rolling…

His arms were around my waist and he pulled me in closer to him. He kissed me first and I responded like I had never been kissed by anyone. His breath was clean. His tongue engaged mine and we were deeply, ardently, increasingly building the rise between us. I started to rip away his clothes, starting with his shirt and he followed my lead but when we were standing in front of each other naked we were anatomically incompatible. I was confused everything about him from the outside mirrored a normal human body but the package underneath was alien.
 He looked at my tits and said, “They are like two suicide notes stuffed into a glitter bra.”

Just in case you are wondering, my story is not a romance but there are a few scenes that fall into that category.  It is a Sci-Fi, Fantasy. But where would be without a little love interest?
One other cool thing that I learned was about
You can make word clouds with your writing.  It’s just another fun tool to help out during those moments when you have no choice but to give in to a little procrastination.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Hobo Bag


either way

My hobo bag is packed
but there is no train headed south,
It derailed in the plains,
where winter opens its
frigid mouth.

© 2010 Kristen Haskell

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Chickens and Me

Magpie Tales #39

Chicken drenched in Golden Curry.
In my opinion is the best type of chicken.
The office was situated,
Down-wind of an egg farm
Acres upon acres of hen houses.
In the summer, the owner of the business
Had a lot of employee turn over
Poor planning on his part.
The hens were there first.
I am a city girl and moving to the middle
Is still a big transition for me,
even after 7 years.
Springfield just passed an ordinance
In a nutshell it states,
Illegal urban chickens are now legal.
You can have up to six of them and one rooster.
Where does one buy an urban chicken?
Aren’t they born in the country, somewhere?
I did learn the reason they call fowl, fowl
because their homes are foul!
I find roosters obnoxious creatures.
I really didn’t want to meet one, but I did.
Renting a cabin at a lake in Northern Arkansas
The caretakers had a hen house with one
Rooster. He was a bastard and
I lasted less than twenty four hours.
It was supposed to be a
peaceful weekend by the lake.
He did not like me, or mine.
I am a city girl and I make no apologies.
I want mayo on my chicken sandwich please!
And I told him so!

© 2010 Kristen Haskell

Monday, November 1, 2010

The River

google images

A symphony of underachievers
Where reason dies, emotion thrives.
Vision blinded by a cocktail of moods,
A rhythmically fluctuating voltage,
A road laced in bismuth.
Solider past these meticulously placed
Shards, that tempt bare feet.
Strip away hideous garments
Foundations of myths supposed
Avoid liquid submersion and its torrents
Reemerge blanketed by achievement and its efficacy.

© 2010 Kristen Haskell