Sweet Farewells

Who would think it would bring such joy to be getting ready to say goodbye to what has long been familiar and loved?

Ah, but it is a happy time for me.

One of my daughters called me pretty much out of the blue not too long ago; the call itself was not 'out of the blue' - we talk all the time - but the request was.

And so I'm keeping my eye on the old flowerbed that used to have scads of Lily of the Valley, in case there are survivors who would maybe flourish in a new home.

I'm also emptying out and getting ready to transport a couple of antique dressers that will be going along for the ride to that same new home (and probably makeovers).

It's entirely possible that, added to the collection, yet another antique dresser will make the trip, this one to get it one step closer to its final destination, which is the home of another daughter. With this one goes a heavy Victorian standing lamp base and a colored leaded glass lampshade (from my grandmother) to top it - and a quilt made by my grandmother for good measure. 

The things from my grandmother have come to me via my own mom, which makes them all the more special.

I'll likely throw in several more quilts for the girls to draw straws over, and a pair of pretty little cut glass lamps (also from my grandmother).

Rounding things out, into my beat-up little old truck will go the chiminea I so rarely use.

So how is it a happy thing to be saying farewell to these much-loved and oh-so-familiar things?

Well, they're moving on to the next step in their journey, where they're supposed to go. The whole point of me keeping them for all this time has been to pass them on to the children and grandchildren of the future. 

There are other things that I will keep for a time yet - because I am not ready to tell them goodbye just now. But in due time they too will go onward.

To have my daughters ready to accept them, that is a deeper joy to me than you might think.

And so there is no 'bitter' to go with this 'sweet'.

It is pure sweetness.

That dresser at the top of this post? It's been tucked into a cluttered corner of a mostly un-used room of my home for years, gradually collecting things that will go along with it one day (and that day seems to have come!)

I can't help but think it deserves a bit of a better fate than to be just stuck away like that, you know? It needs the TLC it will receive at the hands of my daughter and son-in-law ... and it will be lovely once more, put to good use and loved still.

No, it is not one that prior generations of our family has used. Its history is linked to that of this town where I and these daughters of mind 'grew up'. Some years ago, when they were children, a local family (friends of ours) had an auction of many of the contents of a Hotel that had been in their family for some time. 

My girls needed dressers. We went to the auction. Having almost no money, I knew I could not afford the 'really good' dressers. My heart sank within me as they did indeed go for many more hundreds of dollars than I'd ever had in my bank account. Would I fail to get dressers for my daughters?

Looking carefully at the collection, we found a couple that were in 'not-so-hot' shape. Surely these would go for less.

And so ... when the first one came up, I put in my bid.

Glancing around, I saw people quietly talking, gesturing in my direction but not talking to me exactly.

Nobody bid against me, not even the 'big dealers' who had flocked to this sale for its incredible collection of antiques.

When the other dresser came up, one person did bid against me. One. Once. So it cost me a bit more.

Even so, my daughters got the dressers that they needed, with pretty mirrors to boot!

And now that they are all grown up, with children of their own, they'll get them back again.

Tell me that ain't pure sweetness!

We're Trading

When something needs doing and there aren't enough people to do it, and you reluctantly have to take on a task that, as 'the boss', you don't think you ought to have to do ...

And then you see someone else finishing up with another task ... 

What do you expect to happen to any respect that person might have had for you when you say, 'We're trading,' and finish up what they had done the rest of while they get stuck with the task you don't want?

Just wondering.

Phi in the Sky

This is somebody's (don't know who; it showed up on line) rendition of a combination of a Hubble photo and a really pretty 'city' out there somewhere.

When my sister Mary saw it she immediately told me to do one of my 'high texture' paintings of it.

Well, that led me to look again at the photo - and my thought was, 'That's PHI in the SKY!'

The Hives our folk have colonized in the stars have to look like something, you know. Given that they're originating at Phi of Northwest, chances are at least some of them are going to resemble it ... one would think.

So I think I'll leave the alabaster cities to others and go for the gold. NASA puts out some great photos ... it will be fun to give them a search for the one(s) that start bells ringing in my head and use them as inspiration for the interpretive painting(s) I have in mind.

Exactly when I'll be able to have the time to actually do the painting(s) I have no idea at the moment. I've got a bunch of horse sketches to get done, two books to finish writing and merging (about halfway through with that little project), and yada yada stuff like shifts to fill to finance everything else.

But the idea is firmly planted and I can vision it, so eventually we'll have our Phi in the Sky.

Looking Forward to New Schedule

I can't wait for my new schedule to kick in.

This week I work Monday, Tuesday, (Wednesday off), Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday before I get a day off again.

I Badly Want to Spill the Beans

Ullin of Iona

Incredibly frustrating to have to wait and not talk about the stuff our Characters are bringing into this book.

Grrrrrrr ... 

The First Draft of a Scene from COME HELL AND HIGH WATER

Their course takes them by sea to where the high mountains come down. Here too, rather far inland and uphill all the way, is a school they must visit. They want to be sure it is safe.

And so it is.

Andorra has survived better than most. The welcome our little wandering group receives makes their hearts sing. Here is a chance to stop and rest. 

Finally they can sit themselves down, relate their own experiences, and hear the stories of others who have found their way to this place of relative security, high in the mountains.

It is here, at Andorra, that they encounter some unexpected friends. From Southwest have come a handful of folk from one of Phi’s farthest flung outlying settlements. Theirs has been a journey even longer than that of our little group, but has been made quicker as they did not pause on their way at either Southisle or Morocco. Making their way eastward across the width of a violently heaving and burning Southwest, they had taken shelter in ancient underground dwellings when need demanded, but there they did not linger. 

Their sea voyage was guided mostly by luck and by instinct. None of the sea folk disturbed their journey. They had taken to the deeps. 

Shattered shards and broken bits of debris had burst into flame, scattered by the impact of the several huge pieces of space rock hitting the atmosphere of Earth. As the larger chunks, miles in diameter, nailed the northern hemisphere’s ice sheet of Northwest, others rained down on Northeast’s glacial ice.

The smaller bits and pieces, also aflame, scattered over the land masses of the northern hemisphere, setting them alight.

Likewise, into the waters of Earth came fire. Instincts intact, most of the sea folk headed for the deep before the upper levels were set to a boil by thousands upon thousands of flaming space rock fragments. Steam added itself to the smoke already in the air while boiling glacial meltwater rushed to the sea across whatever land got in its way.

The roiling meltwater put out raging fires as it went, picked up whatever wasn’t deeply rooted enough to withstand its power, pulverized and cut channels to clear its path to where it was going, and nothing stood against it. 

The shock of it hitting the seas rose wave upon wave upon wave to set the waters of Earth rocking. Shores far from Northwest were drowned as the waters of Earth blasted their way miles inland. Nothing could stand against them. 

What fire had perhaps spared, water, steam, smoke, and ash did not.

The sea folk who got deep enough fast enough were maybe spared the worst of it. At least they weren’t insta-boiled or flash-fried.

Ironically, it was the fate of the too-slow sea folk that saved the lives of the handful of folk from Southwest as they made their way across the still-bubbling-and-steaming sea. Unable to forage, and with nothing left to forage for, they would have died had it not been for their decision to go ahead and feed themselves with the well-cooked seafood that shared the surface of the water with them. The necessity would haunt them for the rest of their lives – but that they had lives to live at all they owed to the inability of some of the sea folk to escape their doom.

It is from these folk that our little group learns of the finality of devastation wreaked on their homeland.

Going by what they encountered in and on Southwest, the handful of survivors from there can only weep and shake their heads to questions concerning Northwest. The magnitude what they have seen and experienced is, they know, but a shadow of what happened to Northwest. Explaining as best they can what they have been through is hard enough. Trying to extrapolate from that to what it must have been like on Northwest is beyond what their hearts are able to bear.

‘Gone,’ is all they can bring themselves to say.

‘Gone.’

Stunned, Mamm has in one hand the hand of Clara. In the other is the big strong hand of Danann. In Danann’s arms is Ullin, who leans down to rest a hand on the Queen Harp. She stands next to Danann. 

Unable to speak, Mamm stares at the folk from Southwest.

Gone, gone, gone … the word rings in her head like the tolling of a big bell, a deep-voiced bell that won’t stop tolling.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Tightening her grip on both of the hands she holds, Mamm draws a deep breath.

‘So be it.’

Ullin’s child voice comes.

‘It will be all right.’

‘Aye,’ agrees the heavy voice of Danann. ‘Aye it will. But it is not all right just now, Ullin.’

‘No. Not now, but it will be all right. We shall make it so.’

Clara smiles over at Ullin.

‘Are you so sure then, little one?’

‘Aye. I’m sure.’

And now comes Mamm’s smile, tentative.

‘So be it.’

And the Queen Harp begins a bit of a marching song, a hint for our little group to get on with it already. If they’re going to make it all come right, they have things to do, places to go, people to see.
…

Chestnut eyes darkened with pain make Mamm’s heart stop in her chest for a moment.

‘What is it, Ullin? What grieves you?’

‘Iona. She is beneath the waves and her folk are all dead. Only the eagle and the dolphin can find her now.’

Mamm does not ask how Ullin knows this thing. The pain in his eyes tells her that the child speaks true.

Gathering the slight boy close, Mamm kneels before him. This time it is her turn to murmur to him his own words.

‘It will be all right.’

‘Yes. One day she will rise once more. But for now we need to go to Brodgar’s Ring, Mamm. You know of it. It is near enough to Iona. I can perhaps go for a bit of a sail one day.’

‘Perhaps you shall do just that, Ullin. And I shall go along for the ride.’

From out of the herds of Andorra come a half dozen mounts to stand before our little group of travelers. Beauties they are, and as big and strong as they are beautiful, three stallions and three mares to match them.

Danann’s copper eyes take on an almighty shiny gleam as a huge red stallion steps up to him.

Mamm’s eyes are swiftly changing colors, bright with emotion, as a mare of gold steps up to her.

Ullin grabs the Queen Harp and gives a yank to Danann’s hand as a silver stallion comes up in front of him.

Danann, pulled from his reverent reverie by Ullin’s impatience, heaves the boy up onto the back of the horse, the Queen Harp twanging a bit in irritation at his roughness.

‘Cope as best you can, Queen,’ says Danann and his voice is rough, thick with emotion. ‘We have places to go, things to do, people to see. And our mounts wait.’

Clara smiles and climbs rather awkwardly aboard the silver mare that matches Ullin’s stallion.

Mamm is more graceful as she swings herself up onto the golden mare.

‘There are two horses who need riders,’ she says with a cheeky grin. ‘Who will they Choose?’

The red mare goes to Ellae, a girl of Andorra. Ellae glances around but she is standing alone. This mare has Chosen her. A shrug and a grin later, Ellae is mounted.

The stallion of gold heads out and through the gathered crowd, apparently looking for someone.

Whoever that someone is, they are not in the crowd.

The golden stallion rears to paw the air, and clear the area around him, then lets loose with a scream of impatience.

From out of a nearby home races a boy of about Ullin’s age, although not nearly as tall as the slender egg-bald Ullin.

‘What!’

The little boy with the golden curls puts his hands on his hips and glares at the horse.

‘I’m in the middle of something important here, you know. What do you want!’

Ullin grins at his friend.

‘Come on, we have places to go, people to see, things to do. Hurry up, you’re slowing us down.’

‘Ha. I’m going to finish what I started. It’s for you, you know. I’m almost done so hold your horses, willya? It’ll just take me another minute or two … or maybe three.’

The golden stallion follows the little boy right into the house and stands snorting over his shoulder as he fiddles with a bit of silver braid.

‘There. That ought to be good enough for now. Come on horse, we have things to do, people to see, and places to go, or so I heard.’

Scrambling up onto his work table, the boy hoists himself up onto the back of the tall horse, takes a look down, almost falls off as he leans over to see exactly how far up he really is, and grabs a hank of mane.

Ducking to avoid being decapitated by the doorway, he tosses the silver thing at Ullin.

Catching it, Ullin’s chestnut eyes swim for an instant. It is a circlet of silver, the first but not the last his bald head will wear.

‘Etan, come here,’ he says quietly.

The golden horse carries the blond-headed boy over to where Ullin sits his horse.

‘Thank you, Etan. It’s beautiful.’

‘Well, put it on your head to make sure it isn’t going to slide down over your eyes, and let’s get going if we’re going to go anywhere. Where are we going, by the way? Will we be back in time for supper?’

Danann lets loose with a belly laugh that has the whole crowd laughing with him.

‘Let’s go!’

As he clings to his suddenly running mount, Etan shouts over his shoulder, ‘We’ll be back when we get back! Don’t hold supper for us.’

And they are off.

'THE SILVERS' OF DUNNOTTAR

One of the most fun things about working on this book series has been digging around on line and in books/magazines for photos to use for inspiration in the development of the horses of our Characters.

Being able to envision them helps (more than you'd think) in the writing about them.

Because of their importance in the Story Line, I wanted a couple of criteria to carry through in the lineage of these horses.

1) I wanted a breed that would satisfy both my imagination and my logic. By that I mean they would have to 'fit' at least halfway logically with the 'lineages' of our Characters. Since I went with a germanic mother goddess (Perchta) who met my criteria on another front for the 'naming' of our folk as the Perchtanne it made sense (to me) to have horses that also fit that bill - so I went with the Percherons. Especially when I realized that all of the horses I was particularly liking a lot as I was browsing around for what I wanted seemed to all be ... umm ... Percherons. The name itself hit me like a ton of bricks - so really, I didn't have much choice in the matter  :) 

2) They have to be totally AWESOME. Well, they kind of really do have to be. They are Characters in their own rights. They are Warriors. They are big enough and strong enough to carry the Dananns of our family. They also carry our young Riders. They have 'mystical' traits. Percherons meet all of those requirements and then some. They are beautiful enough to fit the bill perfectly. They are strong. They are tall. They are agile. They are smart. They have personality plus. We need all of those things. They are the Chosen mounts of our human Characters. So we can thank the Holy Trinity for giving them to us in our hour of need, the Mother in particular.

In the course of the Story Line, it emerges that the different holdings of our family tend toward having herds that are rather distinctive. 

Tarnos, home of our tall, red, attitudinal Rogue and Ordha the equally temperamental golden mount of MammTwo, has herds predictably of red and gold.

The Lairdubh holdings of the Perth area breeds blacks to go with their traditional banner colors of black and silver.

Dunnottar's herds are silver. Silver? Yeah, silver. Don't ask me why. It just is.

The horses of Andorra are the 'original' herds and come in all colors. Being as there's something a bit mystical about Andorra in the first place, the horses that are born and reared there cannot be counted on to remain the same color from one day to the next. Don't ask ME how they do it, but (fictionally speaking) they are horses of a different color. Literally. They also wear bells, and I have no idea why that is either. It just is. While I'm yapping about Andorra, yes I realize it's only been 'independent' from The Church and France for a couple of decades and that Charlemagne 'created' it back in the day. That doesn't mean it wasn't 'independent' before that, nor that the people haven't always been 'independent' sorts. Just sayin'. 

The Chattan holdings near Inverness in Fortriu have horses that are also diverse but they don't change colors. They are also not always just one color. Davidson, brother to Mamm of Dunnottar, rides an appaloosa. Whether or not there are actually any appaloosa Percherons is moot. I write fiction and Plusa is black with a white rump covered with black spots. They have dapples and some have 'paint' markings. I betcha they can have a spotted rump if they want. While I'm yammering, yes I realize that 'Percheron' as a 'breed' is only as old as the practice of naming specific 'breeds'. However, Le Perche has apparently been producing horses since ... well, since at least well before the Crusades.

Aquitaine's horses are white.

Now, when it first started out, the horses were supposed to be just horses, right?

Right.

Then came Ordha and Rogue. Then the 'blooded stock' references. Then the matching - 'Choosing' - of Horse and Rider. Then the color coding thing per location. And the thing about them being 'The Chosen of the Mother' for our Sidhe folk.  And their ability to access the Gateways to the Realm of the Gentle Ones. By then it was obvious we were talking about Percherons, with their awesomeness and their mystic qualities (I find them mystical and I write the books, so ... ) and their associations and all that.

I had a moment of panic when Dunnottar laid claim to the Silvers. What the heck. White isn't silver. Was there even such a thing as a silver horse?

Well, kind of. Close enough for fiction.

Blue roans are a kind of dark silver. Dapples and the greys are silver.

Okay, we can live with this.

Here's the horse that stole my heart on behalf of the Percherons:

http://www.draftsforsale.com/ShowAd/index.php?id=5688671527b3e

What lucky folks those are! Nineteen hands, this guy was.

Here's a second photo:

I wouldn't call him 'Moose'. Ri maybe, but not Moose.

Every time I see these pictures, in my head that gal is our own Sass, and that is her mount Sampson, who gave his life to get her safely home from her journey. Yeah, I'm sentimental like that. This guy is gone from us, but in my head he's like the leader of the pack of the Horses of the Sidhe of the Ages.

Here are some other photos I'm finding pretty inspiring, from a simple web search:

How can a person not just fall totally in love with a breed that can produce so much beauty, grace, strength, and flat out Nobility?

What kind of makes me smile is that I found out in the course of the research for the 'old' time of COME HELL AND HIGH WATER (about 12,800 years ago, versus the 'new' time which is only a little over 1,500 years ago) that the horse as we know it originated in what we now call North America. Luckily for us, some had already found their way over to the other side of the world before 'Something Happened' that extincted North America almost entirely (and I mean that literally) about 12,800 years ago. The big mammals all just pretty much ... were gone ... 

WHOOOOP! The Young Ones - Here come the next batch of Younglings !!!!

Can't stay away from the horses, can I?  LOL Here's a photo I might want to use as inspiration since I have a feeling in my gut that the mounts of the Young Ones aren't likely to be any more hesitant to assert themselves than their riders. Oh boy. 

Here's a bit of a preview for you, so you'll kind of know what to expect from these 'new' Characters. I've snagged this out of the rough draft working copy of COME HELL AND HIGH WATER.

While our Younglings are heading into their young adult years, these Young Ones are picking up where their older cousins left off, and going them one better.

XXX

"It’s time to check in on the Young Ones of Dunnottar. 

They’re keeping themselves busy with their schooling, with Dedan and Saba coaching them along. Marra and Mamm the Younger are a pair of holy terrors, exponentially worse than even Rua ever was. These Young Ones are unrepentant rapscallions who charm their way out of trouble time and again.

Mounted [on the most rambunctious four horses that the Silver Herds of Dunnottar have ever produced, true throw-backs to Ordha and Rogue, with more than a dash of Oillt's attitude to top it off, I kid you not], they spread the joy of their escapades through the general vicinity.

In Stonehaven they go thundering along the main street scaring little old ladies and providing entertainment for littles and younglings who admire them greatly. Then they come back through from the other direction, sedate little saints come to share serenity and good works. They look around, find people who could use a hand, and pitch in with whatever tasks they can find. Then they do the thundering bit again on their way out of town.

In Northwest they helpfully clear the streams for a mile around and dig a well in the middle of town, pat themselves on the back, and then stock the well with fish when nobody’s looking.

In Forest they yell and scream their way along the paths, horns bellowing, thoroughly disrupting the peace that generally reigns in the quiet of the woods. The first few times they set the forest animals into panics, which in turn sets the Forest Folk into panics. Then everyone gets used to it. They order massive quantities of lumber and the other products produced by Forest, and pay for it in gold and silver and jewels. All of the stuff they ordered and paid for shows up on the doorsteps of the folk who most need it.

Out in the territory of Beyond, on the other side of the forest, they take to making loud appearances in the communities in the middle of the night, clanging and banging, hooting and hollering, then disappearing when lights begin to show in windows. When morning comes the folk of Beyond are surprised to find barns cleaned, haystacks in place that hadn’t been there the day before, cattle gathered, and new supplies for the making of their instruments piled neatly in the town square.

The basket-makers of Southwest get scared out of their wits when they hear moanings and groanings in the night, punctuated by sudden shrieks and wails. It’s darned spooky and the Young Ones take great delight in seeing who can create the most eerie sounds with their voices and their horns. Here too they order an amazing array of basketry, pay for it with the coin of Dunnottar, and show up with a huge wain pulled by all four of their silvers to collect their purchases. Even the wain has been a special order. It is a great big basket shaped like a boat. They drive their boat all over the place dropping off baskets to all and sundry. The wain-boat itself they give to South.

One calm night they sneak down to South and set all of their fishing boats adrift so they aren’t there come morning when the South Folk want to use them. In their own little currachs, out far enough to not be visible from South, they’ve got the boats corralled by dolphins Called for the purpose by the girls. When a hue and cry is raised by South at daylight, the naughty Young Ones ride some of the dolphins back to shore while the others push the boats back AND herd an astonishing catch of fish along with them.

Yes, these Young Ones are busy. They are wild and reckless but so well-loved that they get away with whatever they can think of to do.

Dunnottar herself is not spared.

They go into the smithy when Thann is called away to help somebody with something or other, probably something they rigged up their own selves to get him out of their way. They want to forge a sword that even Thann can’t wield. The fire they get started is so big and so hot that it goes right up the chimney where the wind catches it and sets fire to the thatched roof of the roundhouse. Quickly extinguished, it causes no real harm but the Young Ones have to work their tails off mending the burnt place on the roof.

And they’ve just taken themselves over the line,  yep. They’ve gone too far this time.

They have to face the wrath of Dunnottar, not a pleasant prospect for anyone involved.

Dedan and Saba are in tears over the whole thing. They’re supposed to be the Guardians of Dunnottar and the roundhouse could have gone up in flames. To make it worse, it is their own charges, the Young Ones, who have caused this trouble.

Said Young Ones don’t feel all that bad about the roof of the roundhouse,  truth be told. That's something that is fixable even though with great effort. 

But when they realize how badly they have hurt Dedan and Saba they are for the first time in their lives truly repentant. This has in no way been their intent – yet they have harmed the ones who perhaps love them at least as much as their own parents do, maybe more at times.

The tears of Dedan and Saba do what nothing else has been able to accomplish.

Those tears bring the Young Ones to their knees.

Finally, just as Merri is about to drag them off to the disciplined life of the Fienne, Ullin himself shows up and carts them off to Iona, lock stock and barrel."

XXX

If you've read the short story books, you'll have met this batch briefly.

They are Colum and Saorsa, born kin-twins to Caileen and Aine of Dunnottar (born at the same time, and in close proximity, to full sisters), and Marra and Mamm the Younger, the fire-headed twin daughters of Sass. The two pairs are born within a year on Dunnottar. 

When we meet them in the short story, and again now, they are 12/13 years old.

This is the only group within our story line that doesn't have a shorty among them, although with Dedan and Saba as their teachers, mentors, guides, guardians, and friends they do have a couple of short folk closely associated with them. The four cousins are all long-legged and tall. 

They are the collective 'baby of the family' and maybe a little over-indulged.

Colum is the son of Caileen and Talorc - teachers, diplomats, and leaders of Dunnottar. 

Caileen has long thick hair of brown generously streaked with copper and gold, with the copper eyes of her father Danann of Dunnottar that go back in our lineages to David of Chattan.

Talorc is a powerfully built man of 'normal' height with short dark hair and very dark eyes.

Saorsa (whose name means 'freedom' in Scots Gaelic) is the daughter of Aine and Kalann, half sister to Aine's son Brann.

Aine and Kalann are scholars, warriors, and general cut-ups but very serious about what's important in life.

Aine has light brown curls and blue eyes; Kalann is, like Talorc, a powerfully built man with dark hair and eyes, although their facial features are pretty different.

Marra and Mamm the Younger are the twin daughters of Sass and Thann (who adopted the brother-pair of the Old Ones, Dedan and Saba)

Sass is tall and slender with blonde hair and sea-eyes that change to and from all of the colors of the waters of Earth. She is our Healer.

Thann is what we call 'Danann sized' - which is to say he is six and a half feet tall and well-muscled. Thann is our smith.

Marra and Mamm the Younger would be the spittin' images of the 'original' Warrior Twins Sass and Saille except that their eyes are the deep blue of their great-great-grandfather Alaric instead of bright grass-green.

We don't have physical descriptions (yet) of either Colum or Saorsa, except for their height and long legs. I'm thinking that Colum will carry the dark eyes and dark hair of his father Talorc while Soarsa might be blonde and green-eyed.

At any rate, the Young Ones welcome you to our midst, and we welcome them (most of the time) to our Story Line.

SURVIVING STRESS AIN'T A WALK IN THE PARK

Today, for the first time in almost half of a year and a day, I woke up relaxed, calm, and smiling.

I had almost forgotten what that was like.

Sometimes, I think, we don't realize what a load of stress we're carrying, nor the toll it takes to carry it, until part of it is lifted from our shoulders.

Sometimes (most often, actually) we're the ones who have to do what it takes to throw off part of that load. 

We might not really want to. 
We might not really be able to afford to. 

But to continue with it weighing us down, and to continue to pay that price - those are going to bring us to our knees ... and we want that even less.

So we do what we have to do.

Me, I just dropped my shift-work hours down to something I think I'll be able to manage.

I had no sooner done that than the scheduling person also snagged from off of my shoulders the majority of the burden that has made the bearing of it so intensely expensive for me. 

Finally, after all this time, she has assigned me (FOR A WHOLE WEEK!) to ONE, JUST ONE of the five hallways she's been randomly putting me on for God only knows what reason. When I went back full time she asked me if I have a preference about placement. Because I honestly do love all five hallways equally I said that no I don't, thinking that she was just going to assign me to one of said hallways. Ha. SHE apparently interpreted what I said as meaning that I was giving her carte blanche to do that flip-flop random thing at her pleasure. 

With almost everyone on my 'team' having had at least one major life-affecting event over the past couple of weeks, on top of job-related stressors, we're all reeling. Already well on the road to burnout, we've all been struggling. 

When I tried to talk to someone in management about it, she told me that it's up to me to give her solid ideas and suggestions about what to do about it.

That kind of sounds like a bit of a slap in the face, but in reality it's something I've been waiting for. And waiting. And waiting.

On line I went and on line I stayed for the duration of a full night (when I ought to have been sleeping) doing someone else's homework. 

Really.

People whose educations SURELY included training about things related to their chosen career fields have to tell a lowly bottom-of-the-ladder employee to come up with 'solutions' to a problem that is rampant in their industry? 

*laughing*

It's not like I didn't know where to look, being as it's been on my mind for all this time, right?

Anyway, I wrote up a piece that addresses burnout.

I did it my way. Eighteen pages.

Then I did it her way. A page and a half. 

There's no way in Hades she would have made it through even the first paragraph of 'my way'. Her personality type is probably the exact opposite of mine. Fortunately for both of us, my type is a lot more flexible about communication styles. While she cannot flex far enough to even try to 'get' communications offered in 'my' style, I most certainly can flex far enough to offer said communications in 'hers'. 

Being as (with any luck) she might take said suggestions further up the ladder, giving them to her in a format she can understand makes sense. The ones she'd maybe pass them on to would be even less able to grasp the finer points of my narrative than she would. Not for any lack of intelligence, mind you, but only because their brains don't work the way mine does. While I am okay with accepting that difference, they are not. 

We don't speak the same language. I can learn theirs; they cannot learn mine. So it is theirs I have to use if I want to communicate with them at all. Sad but true.

At any rate, today I woke up smiling, which will likely make me smile all day just remembering it.

It's a chilly gloomy rainy day, a good one to get some writing done on COME HELL AND HIGH WATER. I set out Duke's water barrel to collect rain water for him as our tap water is rather on the toxic side, so hopefully at least he will benefit from this day's rain.

As for me, I can't get anything done on my outside projects so may as well spend the day writing - and maybe at long last getting the leather outers for my felted wool boots worked on. 

Writing and doing my projects are stress-relievers for me.

A vicious cycle kicks in without mercy when I get to a certain point.

When the stressors in my life consume all of my internal resources, the load really does take me to my knees. I can't even stand up, let alone take any steps.

When it gets to the point that I have to carry Pepto with me to my shift-work job because the stress of it creates physical symptoms, and live with headaches for the same reason, and resort to adapting my required 'real shoes' to accommodate at least a modified version of my 'happy feet boots' in order to try to minimize the effects of not being able to wear the actual footwear ... and when my 'off' time consists of futile efforts to reconcile myself to the fact that I'm actually doing what I'm doing with (to) myself and my life here ... I have to shake my head at myself.

It's time to ditch the hope of writing a success story about that place. Maybe one about the value of silver linings would work, though.

But first things first, right?

For this day, at least, I've got a reprieve from at least some of the stress, physical, intellectual, and emotional. 

-My feet, legs, back, shoulders, neck, and arms got a whole night of 'full-body heating pad' so they're limber and happy with me for the moment. 
-My eye is appreciating the break from all those spotlights. 
-My mind is at ease, having gotten that narrative written and then translated. That burden is no longer mine. What she/they choose to do with it is not up to me. 
-I've got a bit of a supply of the protein my body needs, so I'm good on that front. 
-I'm not running out of any of my vitamins. 
-My friends and I are making it through what we've got to get through, one way or another, together. 
-Duke is lying by my side while I patter. 
-I have enough project supplies to keep me busy doing basically whatever I want for a while. 
-I can look forward to some stability at that shift-work job for at least the coming week. 
-And, as soon as the new schedule comes out, I can maybe look forward to a few more days like this!

All of the above contribute to the sense of well-being that has me (finally) relaxed on this day.

And so ... it's off I go to find out what sorts of trouble the Young Ones are going to get themselves into and out of, what might be going on in the lives of our Characters, and try to keep the book shorter than the Mamm of Dunnottar one of the Mamm Books. Wish me luck with that. The century of the 500s CE was a busy one, not to mention what happened 12,800 years ago.

OH.

Lest I forget, here's the translated version of that narrative:

Bottom line:

Burnout is going to show up in terms of people: 
coming in late, 
leaving early, 
calling in, 
taking vacations, 
cutting their own hours, 
being less productive than they want/ought to be, 
dragging rather than bouncing, 
developing stress-related illnesses, 
being physically and emotionally drained and showing it, 
not caring as much, 
becoming grouchy, 
and there being a high turnover rate.

Things an individual can do include:
-getting a good solid physical including bloodwork to rule out physical reasons for their malaise and determining whether or not their symptoms are stress-induced, 
-going to a counselor, 
-getting a prescription for stress and anxiety alleviation or using more traditional remedies, 
-taking personal health days, 
-pursuing and developing interests and activities outside of the work realm, 
-eating and sleeping right, 
-using positive self-talk and positive team-talk on a regular basis, 
-taking a vacation, 
-switching divisions or shifts, 
-cutting hours, 
-trying to talk to management about what’s going on, 
-or quitting if none of the above work.

Things a facility might try include: 
=offering said physicals/health screenings and encouraging their people to get them if they’re feeling ‘off’; 
=training staff and management to recognize and respect the signs of impending burnout and/or compassion fatigue without assigning guilt in either direction so that it can be dealt with in an efficient and effective manner; 
=adapting scheduling and assignments when needed; 
=giving credit where credit is due and appropriate compensation; 
=avoiding ‘talking down to’, ignoring, threatening, minimizing, or otherwise insulting staff; 
=taking care when hiring and giving people opportunities to do what they do best without micro-managing; 
=recognizing that there are times that are going to be particularly stressful for staff and offering support and understanding; 
=including healthy shift meals; 
=developing and nurturing core teams; 
=hiring an impartial professional to do an evaluation of the entire functioning of the facility to identify strengths and weaknesses; 
=having someone staff can trust available for them to talk/vent to confidentially without fear of reprisals, either direct or subtle; 
=using all forms of media for recruitment purposes; 
=management picking up shifts rather than making their staff work short (then chastising them) –  
=volunteering to come in during notoriously difficult times (or hiring someone *short shift* for those few hours every day/evening) –  
=providing what is needed to minimize ‘behaviors’ during those same hours … generally a reduction of sensory stimulation for those sensitive to it; 
=ASKING staff (sincerely and nicely) what is needed and then PROVIDING it; 
=discovering and maximizing the unique talents and strengths of individuals; 
=without de-emphasizing the rights of residents, making it clear that staff also have rights which may not be infringed on; 
=recognizing, accepting, and acting on the fact that you cannot get to the root of a problem by blaming the leaves that get sick and fall from the sick tree that made them sick in the first place. 

Or, as an old cowboy would say, ‘You don’t ride your workhorse until it drops – and then blame the horse.’

Also: you can catch a lot more flies with honey than you can with vinegar. 

And: an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Just Sayin'

I am NOT going to stay up all night, like I did last night, doing research for people who 1) ought to have gotten training on the topic in the course of their educations, and 2) are as perfectly capable of doing a simple web search as I am.

Just sayin'.

I Am So Grateful For My Boring Life

Yep.

That about sums it up.

The Authority of the United States of America is WHAT?!?

Me, I think we as a nation have been trying to look through the wrong end of the telescope. 

IMO we ought to ditch that telescope and go with a microscope, start focusing on what we can reach. 

The way things are right now is bass-ackward from the way our nation is designed to be run. No wonder it's not working the way it's supposed to.

Yeah that's kind of a pretty design, but it is NOT the way things are supposed to go.

Me, I cannot believe I'm sitting here on a 'day off' trying to think of how to explain something to people whose educations OUGHT to have drilled this stuff into them years ago. That's a part of the bass-ackwardness I'm NOT going to get into today, not if I can help it.

Mmph.

What I'm hearing from our young folk is that the rich guys have all the good stuff, the government is in cahoots with them, and we poor folk are stuck doing all the work and paying all the bills, with no end in sight. They're torn between getting mad about it and giving up.

Little do they know the whole situation is absolutely nothing new. The whole concept they're experiencing is exactly why there is a United States of America.

So what does it have to do with telescopes and microscopes?

This:

When you look through a telescope from the wrong end, what you wanted to see closer gets further away instead.

The more we of the general population try to get a handle on what's going on nationally or globally, the further away it all seems to get. Even if we were looking through the right end of that telescope, we wouldn't be able to see the whole of the 'big picture'. We're only going to get more frustrated and upset at what we do see. It ain't all that pretty out there these days, folks.

So ditch the bloody telescope for a while. All it does is make us mad and convince us that yeah our government and our world are seriously out of balance. Trying to use it is just going to make us dizzy. Washington and Wall Street are too far away from the reality of our lives for us to fret ourselves about right now. 

True story, folks. I kid you not. 

There's not a damned thing any of us can do in the immediate future to make those things the least bit different, not right now. We can moan and groan and gripe and complain until the cows come home and it's not going to do anything except waste our breath and our time.

So ditch the telescope for the time being.

Grab that microscope and start focusing on things you can do something about. Instead of whining about Big Government and Fat Cats, put your local area under that microscope.

Why?

Because, my friend, the larger picture that we all think we want to have this huge impact on so everything will change for the better is made up of guess what?

Without getting all technical about fractals and golden ratios and all that, I can tell you this:

The whole is but a bigger representation of its parts.

You want to change Big Government?

Look in the mirror because you yourself are a part of it.

Look within your own family.

Look at your community.

Look at your County.

Look at your State.

You know what you're looking at?

Duh.

See, our nation, the United States of America, and its government, is built on the rebuttable presumption that she has a halfway educated populace who KNOW what the heck said government is supposed to be doing, and not doing.

There's a whole lot of rebutting going on right about now regarding that presumption, both here at home and in the world at large. So be it. That's another thing we can't do anything about at the moment. Let it be for now.

We're all at least partway familiar with our three branches of government, right? Legislative, Judicial, Executive.

How familiar are we with another set of three that's even more important than those? Hmmm?

Federal, State, and We the People, which I've listed in REVERSE order of importance for a reason.

The reason is that the above order is the way We the People have been taught about this hierarchy thing. 

For whatever reason, we ordinary folk have become convinced that we're lucky to even be on that list. When it comes to Authority, what do we believe? That the Feds are at the top of the pile, then the States, and then (maybe) us. We really do believe that, have believed it for a great number of years.

That is NOT the design of our Constitution, people. It is NOT the way our nation is built and not the way it's going to function the way it's supposed to.

Back to telescopes and microscopes.

The Authority of this nation doesn't begin out there somewhere, in Washington or anyplace else.

It starts microscopically small, to go with our theme here.

It begins with you. 

And me. 

And all the them people and the us people that make up WE the PEOPLE. 

Think about that for a minute. It's right there in the Constitution that rules our nation, for cryin' out loud. More than once. 

And we aren't only just the starting point - we are the whole of it. 

WE are the ones, you and me and Jane and John over there, and every other citizen of this Constitutional Republic (what? you thought we were a democracy? oh my. well, that will have to be another post I reckon)

Where was I?

Oh yeah, the starting point of the Authority by which this nation is supposed to be governed.

That would be us.

We're also the next point, and the one after that, and the one after that.

Since the outward spiral of Authority seems to have taken a twist somewhere along the way, there's only one way this nation can get herself back into the balance she's designed to have.

We need to quit worrying about telescopes for the moment and turn our focus to the microscope - we have to look at the beginning point.

That would be us.

Quit trying to look 'out there somewhere' for answers and changes. If 'out there somewhere' was going to fix anything, it would have been fixed long since.

And I'm talking to our young folk here. (Us older ones too, but you young folk have a chance of seeing this thing through so I'm passing the buck to you. You'll be the ones to benefit, too - not us old folk.)

YOU are going to look into your mirror. 
YOU are going to look around you at the people you know. 
YOU are going to decide how much of a difference you are going to make.
YOU are going to decide how much of an impact you are going to have on your own Life, your Community, your County, your State, your Nation, and your World. 

YOU. 
The one you see when you look in that mirror. 

YOU are We the People.

The Authority of the United States of America does not rest with the folks in Washington; it does not rest in the POTUS; it does not rest in any of her many branches and twigs and leaves. 

The Authority of the United States of America belongs to her people, the cellular level of the bigger organism.

YOU.

Intimidated yet?

Nah.

All of what we've been thinking about who wields the Authority in this nation is pretty much hogwash.

Me, I don't expect to see any big huge changes, not in what time is left to me here.

YOU, however,  you our young folk, might just find inside of yourselves the 'whatever it takes' to make things get back to the way they're supposed to be.

I can't make it happen. 

The best I can hope for is that maybe one or two of you will have enough common sense to read your own freaking Constitution, think about what it's saying, and realize that YOU ARE THE AUTHORITY OF THIS NATION. 

Yep. And then proceed to exercise that Authority the way you're supposed to.

How?

By understanding that while you all by your lonesome are not the only Authority in this nation, since every Citizen shares that, you can be a darned important part of the whole.

How?

By looking in the mirror.

Huh?

Well?

Are you or are you not committed enough to making things better to step up to the plate and get things rolling in the right direction?

Me? I'm no politician.

Well hallelujah for that! 

We don't want any more politicians. 

It's not anything anybody has ever been supposed to make a career out of. It's something you take time out of your life to do for a while, because you care, because you want to make a difference, and then you get back to your life.

If you aren't 'public figure' material, look around you for someone who is. Then get them voted into whatever office they might be interested in.

Yes.

I said VOTE.

From the microscopic beginnings, the Authority of the people of the United States continues through every step of the way. Those cells are what makes up the whole thing, you know.

Did you know that your County Sheriff, the person YOU your own self voted for (or not) is the ultimate Authority within your County? Well yeah, if you've read recent posts, you know that.

You know WHY said Sheriff has that Authority? Because that person is representing the collective will of YOU and everyone else in the County. THAT's where the Authority comes from. It comes from US, the citizens of the United States of America. That's how come a County Sheriff can kick the President of the United States out of the County, and jail him/her if they refuse to go. Because the Sheriff isn't acting on his/her own Authority but on the Authority of the people who elected him/her.

NOBODY in this nation has any more Authority than anybody else, unless they're acting in accordance with the collective will of the citizens, Authority which has been accorded them BY the will of said citizens. And the Authority so accorded by the citizens can be revoked, you know. By the ones who accorded it in the first place.

That bit of information isn't bandied about much, is it?

If somebody is in a position of Authority, it is because we said so. That makes it our responsibility to maybe take a bit of interest in who and what we have a say-so about.

I tell ya.

We get so wrapped up in trying to look through that telescope at who's in Washington that we totally don't pay much attention to the stuff that actually matters to us on a daily basis.

That 'daily basis' is a whole lot more vital to our health and well-being than whatever we're trying to see by looking through the wrong end of that telescope. 

I tell you this and I tell you true.

Start taking care of things nearby and get that spiral thing going. What happens on a local level, on every local level of this nation, matters a hell of a lot more than anything else right now.

Why?

Because it is from out of the Center of Authority, the Authority wielded by the People of the United States of America, that the Future is going to unfold. 

It is going to be our own local folks paying attention to our own local elections, and choosing folks who are ready, willing, and able to do the job they're elected to do - by the will of their own local folk - that will bring out the leadership we're all looking for.

No, it's not going to happen overnight. It's going to take a damn long time, and a whole lot longer than it actually needs to take because we don't realize that we can do it.

'A revolution would be quicker' - and yes I've heard those actual words come out of someone's mouth.

'We need to re-write the Constitution' - that's another one.

'The States ought to secede' - heard that one too.

They're all baloney.

A revolution wouldn't speed anything up any, believe me.

The Constitution is fine just the way it is, which people would figure out if they ever took the time to read it.

States Rights are outlined in the Constitution; when it comes right down to it the States have a lot more say-so than we're led to believe. Not as much of a say-so as We the People, but neither are they the helpless pawns of the Feds like some people seem to think.

Looking through the wrong end of the telescope again here.

Start where you're the most comfortable. That's the way it's supposed to be in the first place so what the heck. 

Pay attention to what you see under that microscope. If there's a problem out there at the other end of that telescope, chances are you'll find the virus or bacteria or germ or whatever's causing it right there in the petri dish of your mirror, your home, your community, your county, your state.

We honestly don't have much recourse at the moment for fixing what ails our nation. That's flat out too big for us to even wrap our heads around.

BUT.

We can start trying to knock out that ailment in ourselves, in our homes, in our communities, in our counties ... do you see where I'm going with this?

The Authority of the United States of America - bottom line - is me. 

It's you.

How are we going to wield it?