Campout in the Bedroom

I'm sure you have before now heard the term 'baby brain'. When a woman is pregnant, due to hormones and lack of sleep, she frequently experiences absent-mindedness and forgetfulness. I assure you, it's very disconcerting to suddenly realise you don't know why you are where you are. Why am I in the kitchen? Did I come to here to get something? to clean something? to eat something? I had to resort to lists, lists of even the simplest of things. Grocery list (I could always remember what we needed before), to-do list, list of things that need a list made. I had always believed that this condition would go away after delivering my baby, but for me that was not the case. I still keep a to-do list on my desktop that I look at every morning so I know what I need to accomplish that day. My forgetfulness does seem to be getting somewhat better, but I still have the occasional episode, as the following story relates:

Wednesday is the day I wash the sheets. If I do it the same day every week I'm less likely to forget to do it. One time, however, I forgot all about it, but not until after I had put them in the washer. So when bedtime came, my only set of bed sheets were soaking wet in the washing machine. Should I stay up for another hour while they dried? Those of you who have experienced the extreme fatigue of a newborn know that this wasn't an option. I needed sleep! I have to credit Rob with the solution- sleeping bags.

It felt like camping, complete with the faint smell of smoke. I'm almost tempted to 'forget' the sheets in the washer again, just to have the fun of camping in the bedroom.

Virus

I think I have a virus. Before you run away screaming 'swine flu' I should say it's not me that's sick, but my computer. And it's my fault. I downloaded a video player a couple weeks ago (the only thing I've ever downloaded) and my computer had been getting progressively worse ever since. It started as a small inconvenience- quicktime stopped working - but then all video players quit, then images, now I'm lucky if I can get into my email. What I'm really worried about, though, are my stories. I can no longer access them. I have several in various stages of progress, one nearly done. I can't lose them! I've poured hours and weeks of my time into them and, good or not, I am very attatched to them.

Rob can reformat my computer; kill the virus along with everything else. But what then?

Sharing the Love

Thanksgiving is my second favourite holiday. Traditionally I spend it with my family, and eat way too much of the delicious food we all help prepare. This year was a little different. We had friends over, instead of family, and the weather made it feel more like Christmas than thanksgiving, what with all the snow accumulated on the ground and still coming down.

Weather notwithstanding, we plowed forward. We risked cooking a whole turkey this year: our first time. On the outside packaging, it said "may be missing parts" and I though, 'oh, maybe it won't have all its innards or something' but no- when we opened it up we discovered a one-legged bird. Poor thing, it didn't stand a chance. But it sure was tasty! We ate it with stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, greek salad, carrots, fresh home-made buns, and apple crumble for dessert. Mmm!

Another tradition is to go around the table while we eat and everyone says one thing for which they are grateful. It's hard to limit it to one thing, don't you think? I have been especially blessed this year. I have a beautiful, healthy, happy daughter who makes every day wonderful; a loving husband who works and goes to school to help support our family; the best larger family anyone could ever dream of (I love them all so much!). And that's just the beginning of the list! I thank our Heavenly Father every day for his loving blessings, for giving me so much. I look at the beautiful earth around me, and my wonderful family, and wonder how anyone can doubt His existence. Something so perfect does not happen by chance!

*Shift, part II -- Betrothal

The man was unbearable. Allatea’s nose wrinkled in distaste even at the thought of him. As the son of the king’s chief advisor, Beyannev was one of the most sought after men in Aequo. He knew it, and it showed in his swagger, his carefully oiled hair, his unequivocal arrogance. He probably spent more time grooming than most women in the city. Despite finding him insufferable, Allatea would have married him. For the good of the kingdom, she would have coupled herself to a man who was not only incredibly vain, but was also rather stupid.

But that was before. Before she met Tiernahk. Before she knew the truth about the Vahrlet. Allatea had been taught all her life that the Vahrlet were monsters, or animals at best. They would contaminate anyone with whom they came in contact. For this reason no Vahrlet were allowed on the palace grounds; even the king was not immune from their pollution. Wealthier citizens owned hundreds of them, always managed by lower-born Doyenne. The Vahrlet were not allowed to talk, make eye-contact, eat around, or in any way intimate that they were anything other than the lowest of the low, trained beasts.

When Allatea had stumbled across Tiernahk in the woods as a child, she had not known what he was. She didn’t know not to speak to him to avoid contamination. They became friends. It was only later that she realised what he was. As she grew older, Allatea realised that she loved him. Despite being a slave and being beaten frequently, Tiernahk was more alive than anyone she knew. He had a peculiar sense of humour, a droll way of speaking that had her constantly laughing. When they were older they discussed more serious subjects. He would tell her what it was like to be a slave while knowing he was really a king, the incredible frustration he felt at being unable to protect his people. He also knew more about the history of Aequo then anyone. Allatea had been taught history, but what Tiernahk told her was very different. The Doyenne had not always ruled. In fact, Tiernahk was a direct descendent of the last Vahrlet king. Allatea could sense he wasn’t telling her everything. He was still putting together the pieces of ancient records. He was close to figuring it out, but not sure enough to vocalise it yet. Whatever it was, it was important. She caught him now and then looking intently at a blade of grass, or at a branch, or even at her, but his thoughts were far away as he puzzled it out.

Allatea treasured every moment they spent together. They were rare, as she had many duties and lessons, and Tiernahk couldn’t disappear without being severely punished. He didn’t tell her that, but she knew; sometimes he couldn’t meet her because he was injured or too weak to leave his bed. Despite the risk, she met him as often as possible; she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

So when the king announced her betrothal to Beyannev, Allatea had to come up with a plan. Run away? Start a scandalous rumour about him? Have him killed? Telling her father the true reason wouldn’t work, as Allatea could hardly own to loving a slave.

Day after day passed as Allatea wracked her brain for an idea, an excuse, a reason. She thought about starting a rumour that Beyannev was sterile- that would put an end to the match in a hurry- but in the end she couldn’t do it. As much as she disliked Beyannev, Allatea couldn’t do something so low. She would have to find another way.

Allatea snuck over the garden wall and ran through the woods. Maybe Tiernahk would have an idea. She hid behind a tree and watched the house, waiting for Tiernahk to come out. This was how they met. They had no trusted messenger, no arranged meeting times- both were too dangerous. So whenever she was sure of a couple hours alone, Allatea would steal away to meet him. In the trees nearby she would wait until he came out on an errand. They would walk out into the woods where no one went but themselves, and talk and plan and just enjoy being together.

The sun slowly lowered in the sky, and there was still no sign of him. Allatea would have to do this on her own. She didn’t know what had happened to Tiernahk, but she couldn’t wait for him. The guards would discover she was not in her garden, and that would lead to all sorts of misery. Her father would no longer trust her; she would never be alone, she would never see Tiernahk again. Allatea raced back to the castle and scrambled over the garden wall in time to hear the guards announce the king.

The king looked at his daughter, dishevelled and breathing hard. “What have you been doing, Daughter?”

“I...I was in the tree.” Climbing trees would get her in trouble, but it was better than treason.

“When are you going to start acting like a princess? Like a woman! You will be married soon, and I expect you to act appropriately.”

“I won’t marry him Father!”

The king’s eyebrows lowered dangerously. Allatea winced. She had not meant to defy him openly like that. This could be her only chance to reason with him, talk him out of this betrothal. She closed her eyes briefly, gathering her wits.

“Father, Beyannev is a spoiled peacock. He won’t make a good consort. He’ll seduce the maidservants and distract me from what’s important.”

“He has good blood. He’ll sire strong children. You can handle the rest.”

“There are plenty of men with good blood. Please, let me choose a man who will contribute, someone with whom I could be happy.”

“You, choose your own husband! You will do as you are told.”

“Is that the kind of queen you want me to be, Father, an obedient one? You taught me to think and act for myself. Beyannev is not the right man.”

“Beyannev may not be the brightest of men, but he doesn’t need to be. His only job is to father children and look good for the public.” The king smirked. “He does that already.”

“Please Father. At least consider it. An unhappy queen is not a good one.” Allatea hoped her arguments were persuasive enough. She would not marry Beyannev.

“Daughter, why is this suddenly so important to you? You’ve known for years that you will marry him.”

“I’ve grown up Father. Being a good queen is more important to me than anything. I used to think that I could do that on my own, but now I see that who I have around me influences what kind of decisions I make. Isn’t that why I’ve never met a Vahrlet?”

The king’s smile was wry. “You’re comparing Beyannev to the Vahrlet?”

Allatea knew she had won. If the king could joke about it, she was safe. Safe from marrying a man she didn’t love. For now. She wouldn’t be able to stay single forever, and she would never be able to marry Tiernahk. Some day she would have to marry and produce heirs. For the good of Aequo she would have to find a Doyenne man who shared her beliefs and marry him. Some day. Not now.

No, why delay it? Allatea knew she had to end her friendship with Tiernahk right away. Putting it off would only make it worse. She would meet him one more time to explain things, to say goodbye. One more golden afternoon before a life of duty. It would be hard.

The future queen took a deep breath. It would break her heart, but this was her road, and she would take it.

Sweets and Spiders

Warning: the following entry is not intended for diabetics or arachnophobics.

Sweets

Have you ever had baklava? It is a delicious, gooey, very sweet dessert of nuts and cinnamon sugar rolled in layers of phyllo pastry and drenched in a honey mixture. Mmm!

I had always thought baklava was a greek dessert, since every time I've had it, it was made by an old greek woman with a recipe that had been in the family for generations. But I was wrong. It's actually Turkish in origin, spread during they heyday of the Ottoman Empire, and is traditionally served during Ramadan.

My mistake in it's origin, however, does not take away my immense enjoyment while eating it. If you have a couple hours to kill, try making it, or if not, buy some! Even those on the strictest diet deserve a little treat now and then, and why not satisfy that craving with a cultural experience?

Spiders

Now that we have the yummy part of my post over with, let's get into the nasty. As I came out into my living room this morning, I saw that my cats were very interested in something on the wall. I came closer...then shrank back. It was a spider! Now, don't mistake my for an arachnophobic. I am not afraid of your common house spider, and whenever I come across one I take it outside. But this one was different. It was huge! It was mottled grey and brown! Not counting it's legs, this spider was probably at least 13mm across. My usual policy regarding spiders went out the window. I was not going anywhere near this one, let alone taking it outside where it could lay eggs and then my whole house would be invaded! No, this spider deserved a different fate: the vacuum. It took several seconds for that spider to finally succumb to the pressure of the vacuum and get sucked in, then I left it running for another few seconds to ensure it went all the way down. The last thing I wanted was for that nasty spider to come crawling out of my vacuum and catch me unawares! Even now, hours later, I'm still slightly disgusted.

Unfortunately, in my haste to get rid of it, I didn't take a picture of the monstrosity for you. This is the closest I could find. Just imagine it crawling up your arm, or peeking at you from the sheets!

Where's Freud when you need him?

I'm standing on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. A few doors down there's a woman outside also. She's angry. At me. Swearing, she hurls a bottle in my direction. I duck, and it shatters behind me. Small pieces of glass sting my exposed skin. The woman jumps the railing and heads for my balcony. I run inside, try to secure the door. It won't latch! I try again, no luck. The woman is stronger than I am, and forces her way through the door. As she advances toward me I see she carries a long knife in each hand. She attacks. I duck and weave, but I'm no match for her. I get several deep gashes. An onlooker takes one of her knives and hands it to me, so I can fight back. I manage to cut her a couple times. I knock her down, and go in for the kill. Try as I might, I can only hit her shoulder, as if there's a force-field guarding the rest of her. I look, and realise neither of us is injured. No cuts, no blood. I gingerly try my knife on the tip of one finger, then rasp it hard across my arm. The knife is made of soft rubber. Hmm. "Weird" I say, and drop the knife.