Sorry for the delay . . .

Hey all,

Just wanted to drop a quick note and let you know that I probably won't be posting very much until July of 2011. The internet connection here in Afghanistan is spotty at best, and not really conducive to posting. So, have a Happy New Years and check back next summer!

The Penguin Played in the Snow!

Hello from Afghanistan!

In case you were wondering, I have really been wandering this past week! After I left my heart in San Francisco, I began a series of flights. Over the next several days, I stopped in New York, Virginia, Germany, Kyrgyzstan, and now finally Afghanistan. I got to walk through the rain & snow in Virginia, the snow in Germany, and sort and palletize my luggage in the rain & snow in Kyrgyzstan. Fortunately, everything important stayed dry, and my luggage has already dried out!

Afghanistan will be my new abode for the next six months, and the only wandering I'll be doing is to the gym, the dfac, the hospital, and occasionally the BX. However, since I am only responsible for myself, I'll probably have plenty of time to wonder, so check back often for more musings from the mind of the Penguin.

Work is going to be awesome as there are a bunch of people here I already know from stateside, including some I haven't seen since my last deployment! And I'll have plenty of free time, as I will only be working 8-12 hours a day. Living space here is very limited, so I am going to get to know my 7 (yes, count them, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7!) roommates really well, I would imagine.

Well, that's all the news that is the news from the other side of the world, at least for the moment. Seems like Mrs. Penguin and the littles are adjusting to life without me. Not necessarily well or easily, but adjusting. Surprisingly, the one that seems to be having the hardest time without me at home is Buck! He has been so bad since I left that he is now confined to linoleum only spaces or outside 24/7. Mrs. Penguin said if/when I deploy again, I have to take him with me, because he has been atrocious!

I Left My Heart in San Francisco

     It's wandering time again! Yes ladies and gentlemen, the Penguin is on the wander. At this moment, I am gracing the Eastern Seaboard with my presence, at least for a few hours.

 It was very sad in San Francisco last night. I had to say goodbye to Mrs. and the Little Penguins. We drove down from our house and stayed in S.F. to avoid the hour and a half drive at four a.m..

While we were in San Fran, Boy Wonder tried to get hit by a car. Fortunately Mrs. Penguin's piercing shriek alerted the driver to stop short of making penguin paste out of him!

Once we got to the hotel (Millwood Inn and Suites), I was privileged to spend some time talking with all the Penguin pack. I really enjoyed reminiscing about my childhood with them. I wish I took time to do that more often, but I always seem to find an excuse not to. Last night, there was no excuse, just a chance to spend good quality time with the Little Penguins and the Mrs.

Speaking of, Mrs. Penguin seems like she will really miss me, which of course makes me feel very loved.

Stay tuned for updates from around the world as I continue to wander!

Don't be Afraid to Get Your Pearls Dirty

Just be warned, this is one of those preachy posts!

  As part of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus made this statement, "Do not give what is holy to dogs, and do not throw your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces." (Mt 7:6, NASB) Unfortunately, there are a lot of us who claim to be followers of Christ, who have this fear: any effort to evangelize on our part will be "casting our pearls before swine." 

Paul told Timothy, ". . . God has not given us a spirit of timidity (fear), but of power and love and discipline." (2 Tim 1:7) We should not be afraid that someone is going to tear us to pieces. That is not what Jesus was warning the disciples against. It can happen. It has happened in the past. It will happen. Jesus promised His disciples that, " . . . If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you; . . ." (Jn 15:20)

If we eliminate fear of persecution or reprisal as our reason for not evangelizing, we are still left with this fear of "casting our pearls before swine." It can be a paralyzing fear, preventing us from even speaking when opportunities clearly present themselves. Perhaps if we define what "casting our pearls before swine" is, we can overcome our fear of it. The simplest explanation is that when we present the gospel to someone who rejects it, the gospel is the "pearls," and the rejections are the "trampling under foot." Are there those who clearly will reject the gospel no matter how lovingly and truthfully it is presented? Yes. Are we capable of making that determination? Jesus clearly expected His hearers in Matthew 7 to be able to make that determination. All scripture is given for our benefit, " . . . for correction, for training in righteousness." (2 Tim 3:16-17) I'd say 99% of the time, no, we are not able to make that determination without first offering them the gospel! Go back and look at the context in which Jesus presents this admonition not to "cast pearls before swine." He starts off by saying, "Do not judge, lest you be judged. For in the way you judged, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you." (Mt 7:1-2)

Many of us are guilty of what Jesus talks about in the next few verses, judging someone as not fit for the Gospel, not realizing that we are in the same, or worse condition as them.  If you look at the parable of the sower in Matthew 13, and the explanation that follows, nowhere do you read, "and some seed he sowed not, because he judged the soil to be unfruitful." That is exactly what so many of us are doing, when we think we are "judging righteous judgement." In this parable, we read about seed (God's word) that was eaten by birds, fell on rocky places, fell on thorny places and fell on good soil. The sower sowed or planted. Paul said, "I planted, Apollos watered, but God was causing the growth." (I Cor 3:6) We need to not worry so much about the soil the seed is falling on, but worry instead about planting the seed to allow it to have an effect!

What effect am I talking about? Jesus described the effect the seed had in Matthew 13. But consider further. The seed that birds ate (vvs 4, 19), what happened to it? There are many plants who use birds to spread their seeds to other soils. Do you think there is even a remote possibility that the seed we sow with one person might get relayed to another, more receptive, person? Picture this: You talk to someone you meet at the grocery store for a few minutes about the Gospel. That person may even be rude to you. They go home, or go back to work, or to the gym, and they say, "You're never gonna believe what this crackpot told me today at the store. He/She said there is this guy named Jesus who loves me no matter what I've done! How ridiculous is that?" The person they are talking to, or another person overhearing the conversation, hears exactly what they need to investigate and begin the journey towards becoming a Christian!

Consider what effect seed can have on rocks or rocky soil (vvs 5, 20-21). There are giant boulders which have been split and shattered because a tiny seed took hold, was watered and grew. Maybe that seed died, but its fine little roots broke down the rock or crevice it was lodged in, just a tiny bit during its short life. Maybe over a long time, several seeds landed there, each had a tiny effect, and cumulatively, turned a massive boulder into gravel! We see the example in nature. Why do we have such a hard time believing it can happen in the spiritual world?

How about the thorny places (vvs 7, 22)? We all know that plants compete for soil, sunlight and water when they are crowded together. How do weeds take over a garden? By being allowed to repeatedly seed. Those weeds, based on shear numbers, eventually crowd out the plants that were there originally. Is it not possible that enough good seed sown on thorny soil, with watering, can eventually crowd out the original thorny crop?

We don't know what effect the seed will have. That's why this discussion is titled, "Don't be Afraid to Get Your Pearls Dirty." We worry so much about casting our pearls before swine, when we should be concentrating on planting the seed. We might never know if we are a Paul, planting that initial seed, or an Apollos, watering a seed already established. Or some other worker, planting another seed because the first died out. Maybe the soil changed. Maybe the shear volume of planting is overwhelming the thorns of their hearts. Maybe they need one more seed to crack that rocky edifice they built trying to protect their heart. The point is, we don't know. None of us is capable of correctly judging another's heart. 

What we can do is recognize when our efforts are not making progress. If we talk to someone two or three times, and are clearly rebuffed each time, then, by all means, stop "casting your pearls before swine," and move on. As Jesus said, "And whoever does not receive you, nor heed your words, as you go out of that house or that city, shake off the dust of your feet." (Mt 10:14)

However, we should never confuse moving on with giving up. Each of us that are saved are in that condition because God didn't give up on us, and most likely because a fellow Christian didn't give up on us. The next time you are "in town," so to speak, it might be worth a visit to the person who told you “no thanks” previously. You may end up shaking the dust off again, but we never know when the seed will finally take root.

While we should never miss an opportunity to plant a seed, there are places where we are more likely to find “good soil” for sowing. Consider the Apostle Paul. His custom was to go to the synagogue when he first came to town. (Acts 17:2) Why? Because there were spiritually minded people there! In verse 17 we read where Paul was reasoning in the synagogue and in the market place. He went to where he could find “good soil.” If we are to make the most of our evangelistic efforts, we would do well to imitate Paul.  By going specifically to places we know should provide “good soil,” we are less likely to encounter situations where we might “dirty our pearls,” or be faced with a situation where we need to “dust off our shoes.” We can be smart in our evangelism, but let us never make the mistake of being too smart. Don’t miss an opportunity to plant or water, because you are afraid of dirtying your pearls.

In conclusion, don't be scared. In the end, it's all about the message, not the messenger. Don't be afraid to get your pearls dirty!

Wonders of the Internet

So I'm wondering, does anyone see anything wrong with this? It just appeared on my yahoo homepage. 

I managed to capture a screen shot to share with you.

I'm not sure what Warcraft and John Lennon have to do with each other. Maybe if I click on the link, I'll find out?

What's the weirdest mess-up or mistake you've ever encountered on the internet?

My Last 5

As you can see, I've been very busy whilst in Maryland!

1. A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks. One of his first novels to be made into a movie, starring Mandy Moore, no less! It's been so long since I saw the movie, I had difficulty remembering it well enough to compare. If my memory served me correctly, though, the movie protagonists were much shallower and poorly developed in comparison to those in the book. While the lovers in this effort are younger than some of his other works, it definitely is not a children's book. The theme of sacrificial love is far more mature than Jamie and Landon. Sir Sparks' writing style here is less polished, perhaps an effort at reflecting the youth of the main characters, or perhaps indicative that this is one of his early works and his style is less developed. This isn't a book I would go out of my way to read, unless you are just trying to complete that Sparks collection, or have run out of other material. It is not a complete waste of time, but not at the level of his other efforts.

2. Thunderhead by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. This collaborative effort shows promise, but ultimately fails to live up to its Tony Hillerman aspirations. The premise is that a 20+ year old letter arrives from an explorer father who mysteriously disappeared while searching for the lost city of gold. Based upon the clues contained therein, manipulation of NASA flight plans and other sundry morally offensive but technically legal efforts, a team of explorers is put together to track it down. They do, finding it not what they had hoped, and nearly all meet their deaths at the hands of some modern day Indian "witches" who have resurrected ancient Anasazi killing rituals. This book has multiple elements that should combine to form an intriguing and taught plot, but it simply fails to gel. Maybe one of these authors 4 other collaborations is a better read? If this novel is indicative of their work, I shant pursue any of their other works.

3. The Devil's Teardrop by Jeffery Deaver. An interesting read along the lines of a CSI-type murder mystery. The story follows an ongoing investigation into a mass murderer whose demands of 20 million dollars are met, but he fails to appear to collect and continues to kill. My only negative in this book is the developing attraction between the lead investigator and a retired specialist called in to help on the case seems forced, as if it takes place simply because there must be a romance brewing between two of the main characters if a book is to be published. The writing proceeds at a vigorous pace, alternating well between murderer, mastermind, and FBI efforts. I particularly appreciated the inclusion of several verbal puzzles. Most are answered within the story, but one is not. The author answers this puzzle in a note at the end of the story. Overall, well done!

4. Lake News by Barbara Delinsky. In short, don't bother. Perhaps I just wasn't in the mood to appreciate this newspaper reporter helps innocent cabaret piano player smeared by another newspaper reporter story. I greatly appreciated the descriptions of loons on the lake, since they stirred childhood memories, but otherwise felt it was a waste of time. If you like journalistic reportings of journalistic doings tangled up with a love affair, check it out. Other wise, see my second sentence.

5. Some Danger Involved by Will Thomas. Another mystery, but well written in the style of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I might venture to say better written than Sir Arthur, but there are a lot of folks who would be terribly upset by that. This is an first novel, introducing the Enquiry Agent, Cyrus Barker, and his assistant, Thomas Llewelyn. The author does a wonderful job developing the characters in the context of the story. It it tightly paced and suspenseful, as well as introducing an aspect of London's history I was completely unfamiliar with. If you like Sherlock Holmesian mysteries, be sure and get to your library and get a copy of Some Danger Involved.

A Penguin of International Appeal

    I was sitting here minding my own business, wondering what I should post about today. I was considering whether it was to soon to post another "My Last 5," when I happened to notice a tab at the top of the page labeled, "Stats." Now I'm a geek. I freely admit it, and those of you who know me can confirm it. As a geek, stats appeal to me, so of course I clicked on the tab.
   The page slowly loaded (the internet connection here at the hotel leaves a bit to be desired at times!), and I considered what I might find. A world of wonder and amazement suddenly revealed itself to me. I was amazed to see that hits to this blog have come from Taiwan, China, Canada, and various and sundry other countries. I had expected to see Iraq and Turkey listed, as I have previously been in communication with prospective readers in those locales, and they were there. It was the others that surprised me so much. I was flabbergasted to find a total of 16 countries listed!
    The first question to cross my mind was, "how did these people find this blog?" Did they stumble across it accidentally whilst looking for hockey information for the Pittsburg Penguins? Are they saddened to find that this blog doesn't deal with those runners known as Penguins?
     What do these international peruser's of the Penguin's wanderings and wonderings think? Am I a typical egotistical American, focused so narrowly on myself and my narrow worldview that my musings are simply derided by international readers without considering there merit? Do my ponderous ponderings provide some bemused expat a reminder of home? Am I making the most of my opportunity to be "a light to the world"?
     Suddenly my words have gained more weight, psychologically, knowing that they are an international representative of me. It's heady stuff, but humbling as well.
     Whoever you are, and wherever you are, I hope you enjoy my ramblings. If not, keep coming back anyhow. It makes me feel good! Wander and wonder at will, me fellow penguins. Until next time, keep waddling!

My Last 5

1. Some Danger Involved by Will Thomas. Another mystery, but well written in the style of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I might venture to say better written than Sir Arthur, but there are a lot of folks who would be terribly upset by that. This is an first novel, introducing the Enquiry Agent, Cyrus Barker, and his assistant, Thomas Llewelyn. The author does a wonderful job developing the characters in the context of the story. It it tightly paced and suspenseful, as well as introducing an aspect of London's history I was completely unfamiliar with. If you like Sherlock Holmesian mysteries, be sure and get to your library and get a copy of Some Danger Involved.


2. Maximum Security by Rose Connors. Although I'm not sure what the title had to do with the actual book, this is an interesting novel written by a lawyer. John Grisham she is not, but law is always interesting to me. This particular novel involves a beautiful (aren't they always) heiress who is accused of the murder of her deceased husband. While rather short, a lot of action is covered in the span of the 150 or so pages. If you like Mr. Grisham, Mrs. Connors would be a good addition to your list of authors.

3. Blood is the Sky by Steve Hamilton. I don't believe I've had the privilege of reading Mr. Hamilton's work before, but if this 300+ page novel is typical of his work, I have a new mystery/detective favorite. This story takes place in Northern Michigan and Ontario and involves a setting I am personally familiar with, hunting camps. The pace is fast, the characters are flawed, and thus entirely believable. The mistakes they make, and the motivations for doing so provide as much interest as the actual action itself. Another book that I would recommend.

4. Nighttime is my Time by Mary Higgins Clark. Mrs. Clark has never been one of my favorite authors. Reading this book reminded me why. I found the plot tedious, often bogged down in introspective musings of the characters. They flow was disjointed, the characters poorly developed, seeming like character cut-outs. If you like Mrs. Clark's work, more power to you. We are all entitled to our opinions, and mine is that her writing is sub-par and insipid.

5. The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks. I have become a huge fan of Monsieur Sparks efforts. He writes very believable stories, based on entirely human characters and the struggles, conflicts and motivations of folks from all walks of life. This novel was written from the perspective of a gentleman who is succesful as a businessman, but a failure at his marriage. I could easily identify with his workaholic attitude, and hopefully learned some lessons from his efforts to save his marriage. I almost hope Mrs. Penguin doesn't read this, as some of his efforts are inspiring and a touch awe-inspiring. If you liked the movie FIREPROOF, you'll probably enjoy this book.

My Last 5

Here is an updated My Last 5. It's been a while, but I had gone probably 2 months without reading a book. Lots of articles and magazines, but no books. So, I've made up for it in the last week or so. In fact, I have 7 books to review. Here goes.

I am grateful to a long-time SF Giants Fan and fellow bibliophile for some Readers Digest Select Editions. It's nice to have 4 books in one. They still are paper, which I appreciate much more than trying to read extended pages on the screen. That's why I'll probably never get an e-reader or try to read books on my I-touch.

1. Maximum Security by Rose Connors. Although I'm not sure what the title had to do with the actual book, this is an interesting novel written by a lawyer. John Grisham she is not, but law is always interesting to me. This particular novel involves a beautiful (aren't they always) heiress who is accused of the murder of her deceased husband. While rather short, a lot of action is covered in the span of the 150 or so pages. If you like Mr. Grisham, Mrs. Connors would be a good addition to your list of authors.

2. Blood is the Sky by Steve Hamilton. I don't believe I've had the privilege of reading Mr. Hamilton's work before, but if this 300+ page novel is typical of his work, I have a new mystery/detective favorite. This story takes place in Northern Michigan and Ontario and involves a setting I am personally familiar with, hunting camps. The pace is fast, the characters are flawed, and thus entirely believable. The mistakes they make, and the motivations for doing so provide as much interest as the actual action itself. Another book that I would recommend.

3. Nighttime is my Time by Mary Higgins Clark. Mrs. Clark has never been one of my favorite authors. Reading this book reminded me why. I found the plot tedious, often bogged down in introspective musings of the characters. They flow was disjointed, the characters poorly developed, seeming like character cut-outs. If you like Mrs. Clark's work, more power to you. We are all entitled to our opinions, and mine is that her writing is sub-par and insipid.

4. The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks. I have become a huge fan of Monsieur Sparks efforts. He writes very believable stories, based on entirely human characters and the struggles, conflicts and motivations of folks from all walks of life. This novel was written from the perspective of a gentleman who is succesful as a businessman, but a failure at his marriage. I could easily identify with his workaholic attitude, and hopefully learned some lessons from his efforts to save his marriage. I almost hope Mrs. Penguin doesn't read this, as some of his efforts are inspiring and a touch awe-inspiring. If you liked the movie FIREPROOF, you'll probably enjoy this book.

5. The Lucky One by Nicholas Sparks. This was an interesting novel, made easier to relate to because it involved a military character. I'm not sure if this was written before or after Dear John. While Mr. Sparks occasionally slips in his portrayal of military life, or so it seems to me, he strives very hard to stay authentic. Again, his characterization and motivations are well done. I did find the story a little harder to believe than some of his other works. I realize that reading fiction requires a suspension of belief, but I've come to expect such great things from him that this book was a bit of a let-down. Perhaps that is because this book actually upset me quite a bit. Why? This was the first book I ever remember reading where I identified with the antagonist more strongly than the protagonist. The poor parenting, impatience, and jealousy displayed by the ex-husband/father character seemed much more understandable and relatable than the perfectly patient, seemingly selfless lead.

6. Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters by Jane Austen and Ben H. Winters. Having never read the original, I can't compare this revised work, so I have to take the book on its own merits. I'm still not sure that I actually liked the book. It was an interesting premise, but the meshing of two different worlds is less than seamless. Thanks to my bibliophile friend, I have a copy of Northanger Abbey to read. Perhaps after I read that I will be better able to distinguish between Ms. Austen's work and Mr. Winters "additions." Perhaps Ms. Austen is really a poor writer and this is better than the original, or perhaps not. Overall, I was less than impressed and will be reluctant to read anything else this duo might publish.

7. Dear John by Nicholas Sparks. I had already seen the movie, thanks to Mrs. Penguin, so I had a pretty good idea of the story. I found the book to be better than the movie, as is usually the case. I much prefer the ending of the book. It seems more in keeping with the character's portrayed. I am always disappointed that this author's books contain pre-marital sex, since he professes to be a Christian (Catholic, I think). Maybe that's what it takes to get a book published these days. I doubt it, but then again, what do I know?

I hope you enjoyed My Last 5, or in this case, My Last 7. Stay tuned fellow penguins. The wanderings and wonderings continue.

Updated Wanderings

Greetings Fellow Penguins!

No, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, it just seems like it. A quick update on my wanderings: I am currently in the wonderful City of Baltimore, MD getting my C-STARS training. My 6 month plus field trip begins next month. Last month I managed to hit MO, IA & AR in a whirlwind trip. We are all eagerly holding our breath to find out where we will be headed when I return, or if I will stay in Cali one more year.

As for wonderings, stay tuned in the next few days for an updated "My Last 5."

Addendum: Be sure and follow this link http://www.gerber.com/photo/gclid=CI6C74DuhKUCFRtqgwodjihiNQ#/vote
to vote for the littlest penguin, Ms. Alyeska! You can vote each and every day this month. Thank you for your support of her college tuition!

That is All,

Penguin Out

My last 5

1. Just Deserts by Barbra Bretton. Don't judge me for reading a romance. Oh, you're going to anyway, so go ahead! This was pretty typical romance fare, including the requisite pre-marital sex scenes (only two). Otherwise, it's an interesting story about the importance of family. A lot of trust issues are dealt with in this book. And it talks about cakes! I wish I could recommend it, but the premarital sex scenes make this a no-go.




2. Canyons by Gary Paulsen. A teen/pre-teen aimed book about a boy today connecting with the ghost of a murdered Apache boy. Some insight is given into the Apache's struggling to adapt to the invasion by the whites, with parallels drawn to the struggle of a modern 14 year-old to adapt to the invasion of his life by a new man his mother is dating. Also talks about running, a current interest of mine.

3. Shepherds, Wake Up! by J.J. Turner. A mind-altering, thought-provoking look at the office of Elder. This book talks about how the modern church has focused so much on the term "Elder" that we have overlooked the shepherding aspect of the office. Did you know there are over 55 qualifications listed for a man in this role? This book examines those. A must read for any member of the church, especially those serving as Shepherds.

4. The Winter Room by Gary Paulsen. Stories by an uncle are just stories, right? This quick read follows the progression over 1 year of two young boys as they listen to their uncle's tall tales. A shocking revelation causes them to doubt their uncle, but a very impressive display witnessed in secret restores their faith in him.

5. Faith and Finance by Jim Palmer. A timely read for me since we have been studying 2 Corinthians 8 and 9 in our Wednesday night class. Helps you see that finances and faith are intricately linked. This is a very short book, but helps you examine your attitudes toward not only giving, but your finances in general. 

A wee bit of poetry

I was reading the book, Your Mama Don't Dance last week and noticed that Mrs. Colley had a poem at the end of each chapter. This got me thinking that perhaps the book I've been working on could use a poem or two.
Here's my first attempt. Let me know what you think!

No fateful weaver destines me, controls my road of life.

My decisions are my own, to bring me peace or strife.

No stars their portents writ, unchanging though I strive,

No celestial queen bids me a worker in her hive.

I once cursed the fates with bitter anger at my life their toy.

I instead now know the truth, and it brings me greatest joy.

God is in control, but my choices are my own.

I can forge a path of sin and death, or claim a starry crown.

My life has taught me many things, I’ve learned so much thus far,

And I’ve more to learn, though I’ll ne’er discern,

What lies beyond ‘thus far.’

I shall continue each new day, no longer fear my death.

When that cold tide o’er me rolls, I will welcome blessed rest.

My last 5

1. Canyons by Gary Paulsen. A teen/pre-teen aimed book about a boy today connecting with the ghost of a murdered Apache boy.

2. Shepherds, Wake Up! by J.J. Turner. A mind-altering, thought-provoking look at the office of Elder. A must read for any member of the church, especially those serving as Shepherds.

3. The Winter Room by Gary Paulsen. Stories by an uncle are just stories, right? A heart-warming tale of faith lost and found.

4. Faith and Finance by Jim Palmer. A timely read for me since we have been studying 2 Corinthians 8 and 9 in our Wednesday night class. Helps you see that finances and faith are intricately linked.

5. Three Weeks with my Brother by Nicholas and Micah Sparks. The author of The Notebook, The Guardian, Nights in Rodanthe, etc. chronicles a three-week around the world trip with his brother. Along the way, healing occurs and the history of Nicholas Sparks and his now-departed family is revealed. 

What I've Read Recently

    I've been reading a lot. Not just lately, but all my life. I used to average 300 books a year. I'm probably down to about 100 or 150 a year now, but still, that's a lot of books.
    For example, since the last week of July I have read the following books: Marriage Matters, Chronicles of Nick, Headed to the Office, The Winter Room, Faith and Finance, Shepherds, Wake Up!, Canyons, Three Weeks with my Brother, and last night I started Your Mama Don't Dance. I'll probably finish it tonight. That's 9 books in three weeks. Granted, a lot of them have been shorter, Faith and Finance, for example. Even when I read "regular length" novels, it is only a matter of a couple days to finish them.
    In the past I had a space on the blog for "What I'm Reading Now." It stayed really short, because I always finished the books before I even remembered to post them.
    I am going to try a new bit, "My last 5." In it, I will list the books I've read most recently, along with a short description or highlight from the book. As always, feel free to comment or suggest others.

And now for your reading enjoyment . . . BY REQUEST!

   I am so excited! I actually had a request for more of my fiction. So, here it is . . . Chapter 3. You can read chapters one here and two here. 


I left early one morning, making my way across the fields of wheat stubble in the half-light just before dawn. I traveled lightly, knowing I had a good month before the weather turned really cold. By then, I planned to be far in the south, possibly even out of K’Attor, across the sea. My light pack contained very little, only my cloak, a piece of cheese, and half a loaf of bread. I felt that was all that I could honestly impose upon my hosts for, even though I had left a couple of coins on the kitchen table in exchange for what I had taken. My dagger was in my belt, and my staff in my hand. The pouch dangling inside my shirt from the cord around my neck contained flint and some tinder, as well as the remaining coins I owned. I was prepared for anything, at least anything my farm boy mind of sixteen could think of, preoccupied as it was with the thoughts of guilt that still plagued my conscience.

I traveled well that first day, staying close to the stream that meandered through what had once been my father’s farm, and following its progress toward the river. As evening darkened the sky, I found a copse of bushes in which to camp for the night. I lay wrapped in my cloak, staring at the stars above me for hours. For once, I was not plagued by the guilt that ruled my life at that point. Instead, a single question ran through my mind. Did I have my freedom, or had I enslaved myself? I didn’t answer the question that night, nor have I in the many years since.  

At some point, I did drift off to sleep, because I woke while the sun had not yet warmed the dew off the grass and leaves which scattered the ground near my resting place. I rose, drank from the stream, and set off again, still following its course. By midmorning, I reached the juncture of what I considered my father’s stream and the river. I began following the river, knowing that eventually it would reach the coast, and somewhere along the coast would be a port where I could find a ship on which to leave the land of my birth, the land I had come to curse.  

As I walked, my thoughts again returned to that fateful night, and once more I withdrew into my guilt, so that I no longer noticed the scenery around me. I traveled on for some days, alternating periods of self-deprecation with times in which I was almost happy, watching as the leaves began to turn, waking some mornings to find the dew almost frozen on my cloak. My bread and cheese were supplemented with fish I caught in the river and berries I picked from thickets along the river’s edge.

After nearly a week of traveling, I began to smell the salt in the air and knew I was close to the sea. I camped that night, eager to reach the sea, and be gone from this land of heartache. I rose with the sun the next morning, and continued on my way. In the early afternoon, I approached the seashore and a town simultaneously. I don’t recall the name of the town, but perhaps I never learned it.  It wasn’t much, just some docks where farmers could ship their wheat, along with the associated houses and buildings that would be found near any port, great or small. I had never been to this town before, as my father had always taken his wheat to the market to sell, perhaps believing the port too far away to be reached safely in an age when highwaymen abounded.

As I entered the town, I was somewhat surprised to see no one on the docks. There was a barge, a few fishing boats and dories tied up to the docks, but not a living soul stirred within the vicinity of the river’s mouth. A single tavern and a half-built church were the only buildings displaying any kinds of life. A lone man was struggling to lift large blocks of chuar wood into place on the wall of the church, sweating profusely in his brown cassock. The rest of the town, it seemed, was gathered in front of the tavern. I went to the tavern, not because of the company, but because I was eager to find work on a ship, and figured that this was the mostly likely place to find employment with the docks being deserted.  

I slowly shouldered my way through the crowd, listening to the murmurings, catching snatches of conversations and wondering what was so momentous as to disrupt an entire town during the peak season in which most earned their livelihood. When I reached the door of the tavern, I found by way blocked by two men guarding the entrance. I wasn’t eager to cross any man, but I had slept poorly the previous night, in fact, had slept poorly for an entire year, and was in no mood for any kind of tomfoolery.

“I’d like inside, please.” I stated, addressing the older of the two guards.

“No one is allowed inside while the princess dines.” The younger one growled, shoving me back towards the crowd.

My usual state of self-pity and self-blame vanished when his hands touched my chest, but I held my temper in check. You’ll admit that’s no easy feat for a redheaded K’Attorsman, and one just lately showing the beginnings of a beard. I again addressed the older guard, “Can you tell me how long it will be?”

Again the younger, and in my opinion, more foolish guard shoved me. “That’s none of your concern, boy.”

I bristled, both at his tone of voice and his use of the term “boy.” He was hardly any older than I, with no signs of a beard on his face, only a cruel sneer that lifted one corner of his mouth.

“Friend,” I said, looking him directly in the eye, “I asked a simple question. If you don’t know the answer, simply say so, and don’t let your delusions of authority cause problems where there need be none.” Now I felt more alive than I had since I woke to the news that my family was dead. I could feel the blood pulsing in my temples.

The younger guard started to reply to my statement, but was cut off by his companion, “The lad’s right, Rupert.  Now leave him be.”

Rupert was either hard of hearing, or didn’t know good advice when he heard it. He reached for the cudgel leaning against the wall next to him. “Get out of here, boy.”

The cudgel wasn’t there when he closed his hand over where he thought it should be, probably because I had toed it out of the way when he opened his mouth.

Again the older man spoke, “Rupert, leave it alone. You don’t want to risk the wrath of who’s inside over some imagined slight to your honor.”

“No, this stripling needs to learn a lesson.”

“Aye, perhaps I do.” I admitted. “But I’ll not learn it from the likes of you.” By this time, my anger had seethed through to the surface.

Rupert charged me and I tripped him neatly with my staff, stepping out of his way as he stumbled into the dust. He got up, spitting and pulling a dagger from the sheath hanging off his belt. I glanced at the old man, but he was gazing out into the crowd, ignoring the drama unfolding between Rupert and I.  He seemed to feel Rupert deserved whatever I could give him, or that I deserved any punishment I received for not leaving well enough alone.

A lad of sixteen I might be, but no stranger to the rough and tumble ways of most any child’s education, especially if that child had brothers, as I had. I might have wandered around in a daze for a year, but I was still a farm boy, and probably stronger than this city boy was used to dealing with.

“I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of a crowd.” I taunted. “Answer my questions and we can settle this dispute later, in a more gentlemanly fashion.”

“You may use big words, boy, but you’re no gentleman.” was Rupert’s reply. You’re the one who’s going to be embarrassed.”

I shrugged my shoulders and gripped my staff more comfortably. “If that’s the way you want it, then.”

By now, the crowd had drawn back a few paces, leaving and open area in front of the tavern for my opponent and I to do battle. Rupert paused for a moment and stared, as if seeing something he hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps it was my scar, which runs down my forehead from above the hairline, then crosses my left eyebrow before fading out on my cheekbone. I don’t know and never found out what gave him pause. In any case, he advanced slowly towards me rather than charging as he had the first time, prompting the thought, “Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he can be taught.” While part of my mind made light of it, another part of me realized that this was a man not likely to make the same mistake twice, and a man used to getting his way.

We began to circle, waiting for the other to make the first move, trying to get an estimate of how the other would fight.  I have never been the patient kind, especially in my youth, so it was I who began our melee. My right foot slid forward over the hard packed dirt and my staff fell towards Rupert’s head as I advanced. He jumped back, and tossed his dagger back and forth between his hands. I noticed it only peripherally, watching his eyes for a sign of his coming attack.

I almost missed it, because he attacked with his feet rather than the dagger I had expected him to use. As it was, I managed to knock his kick away with my staff, and then had to twist out of the way as his dagger darted for my belly. I realized then that he meant to kill me, not simply defeat me.

What happened in the next few moments I remember little of. I do know that when it ended, Rupert lay dead at my feet, the handle of his dagger protruding from his chest. My staff was broken into two pieces, and I had so much blood on my hands I remember thinking I must have slit his throat, rather than merely buried his dagger in his heart.

The older guard approached me with his sword drawn. “I’ll have to arrest you lad. You’ve killed the Princesses personal bodyguard.”

“What princess?” I cried out. “What kind of royalty allows her personal guard to provoke and attack one of her subjects, then arrest him for defending himself?”

“I’m sorry, lad.  I . . .”

This time it was he who was interrupted by a soft, melodious voice speaking from shadows of the now open door. “My name is Arianne, and I do not allow my personal guard to provoke attacks by my citizenry, nor do I punish those who defend themselves. I believe everyone has a right to protect their life and the lives of those they love.”

I turned toward the author of those words. “That’s a very pretty speech, miss, but even a poor farm boy from the country knows better than to trust royalty.” I couldn’t help letting the disgust I felt at how I was being treated creep into my voice.

The guard advanced at my imprudent words, emotion finally displaying itself on his face like thunderheads on the horizon. “I’ll not allow anyone to impugn the word of Princess Arianne and live!”

As his sword swung back in what was probably the beginning of an attempt to separate my head from my shoulders, an amazing thing happened. A slight figure, dressed in silks and furs, interposed itself between me and the man who would have been my executor.

“Gavin, stop!” she cried. “He may have reason to doubt my words. I’ll not have you disprove them.”

The guard, whom I now connected with the threat of death, and the name Gavin, lowered his sword only partially, muttering, “Stand out of my way, Highness. He deserves to die. He killed Rupert, and he spoke against the crown. Now let me do my job in protecting you and the crown you are heir to.”

“Nonsense, Gavin.” Arianne responded. “He may have killed Rupert, but I doubt it was in cold blood, or you would have stopped him yourself, or died trying. He is obviously not a ruffian intent on destroying me. I’ve stood here nearly a minute and he has made no move to harm me.” That was indeed true. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but had it; I doubt I would have been able to act upon it. I was too much in shock at the twin realizations that I had actually killed someone and that I was being protected by a mere wisp of a girl from a man nearly twice as large as her, and larger even than my two plus meter height and fifty stone weight.

I finally spoke. “If you give me your word I’ll be fairly tried, I’ll give over peacefully.” Now I thought about threatening to abduct the Princess if she didn’t give her word, but discovered that several other guards, these in armor, had moved through the door and had me surrounded. “I have no wish to die a dishonorable death.”

She turned and faced me then. It was as if the entire world stopped in that moment. I was so transfixed by her beauty that my mind did not comprehend the words she directed at me. When I realized she was speaking, I had to back up in my mind to catch all she had said.

“You shall stand trial for the unreasonable death of the Princesses personal body guard, Rupert, son of Murdoch. If you are found guilty of his slaying, you will receive the maximum penalty allowed by law. In this instance, the penalty is death by beheading. If, however, you are found to have been unjustly provoked, and that his death was the result of you defending yourself from an unwarranted attack, as is your right, you will be freed. Do you understand these terms?”

In response, I merely nodded. I was amazed that any member of royalty would bother to speak so politely to a commoner, especially one that had only moments earlier called her a liar.

She continued, “I trust then, that you will surrender your weapons to Gavin.” It wasn’t a question, but a royal edict. I obeyed, drawing my dagger from my belt and turning it hilt first towards the man who came around the princess.  

He glowered at me, and spoke in a tone too low for the princess to hear, though she was merely two steps beyond him. “You’re lucky the royal daughter is so forgiving. I would have seen you had a fair trial for killing Rupert, but I’d not have let you survive after calling her Highness a liar.” He took my dagger, glanced at it, and whistled in appreciation before tucking it into his own waistband. “I almost hope they find you guilty. This is a nicer knife than any farm boy deserves.”

“It was my father’s, a spoil of the last war which put her Highnesses father on the throne.  He is dead, so it is rightfully mine. I expect it back.” Inside I was seething, and vowed that once the blade was back in my possession, as I had every reason to believe it would be, no one else would ever have it, even temporarily. I have kept that vow to this day.

Definition contest

     Scheduled post is a great thing. It allows me to have posts even when I am away from a computer. (Except it didn't work . . . this was supposed to post while I was gone to Tahoe. Oops!)

     In an upcoming post I will write about the new word I made up, pestimist. While I was pondering that word, I began to think that each of you probably have a word or two that's not in the dictionary, but belongs in the common vernacular.
     You might have also noticed the Verbotomy link down at the bottom right on this page.
     All of these things have culminated in my decision to proclaim a contest. I'll leave it open for a week or so. Send me your word and definition, either as a comment on this post or to my e-mail, akbob3@yahoo.com. I'll post all the words and definitions, and declare a winner. The prize won't be anything spectacular, maybe a stuffed penguin or some other item that I have previously posted about.
     So what are they, fellow penguins? Send 'em in!

On the Wander

Well my fellow penguins, I will be out of the service area for the next week or so. The bags are all packed, the truck is loaded and the kids are in bed with visions of sugar plums  . . . wait, visions of camping dancing in their heads.
We are headed up to the Tahoe Family Encampment. This may be our first and last chance to enjoy this experience, so we are going to make the most of it. This will be our whole family's first camping experience that lasts more than a night or two.
No, it won't be a true camping experience because we will have access to electricity and showers, but it will involve real tents, cookstoves, coolers, etc. We do have to keep the food locked up so the bears don't get to it, so that seems to raise the level of campingness. This causes me to wonder, what defines camping versus a non-camping experience? Does it only count as camping if you are completely off the grid? How much can you bring with you? Does a pop-up tent trailer still qualify as camping? Help me out here, please.


P.S. I'll let you know how it goes when we get back!

The art of illusion

I wandered across a new website today that I thought I would share with you. It refreshed my sense of wonder. I have always enjoyed good illusions; be it on the silver screen (The Illusionist, The Prestige), the small screen (The Masked Magician, David Blaine, Penn and Teller, etc.), as well as artistic and optical illusions.

This new (to me) website (www.moillusions.com) has over 200 pages of various optical illusions; some animated, some still photos and some videos. 


If you would like your sense of wonder restored, please check it out. DISCLAIMER: Not all of the material is suitable for children or discerning adults.


Below is one sample:

Peacock Brothers Illusion

July 18, 2010 by Vurdlak with 27 Comments  

Old time viewers will probably experience some form of deja vu, but there is no harm repeating good stuff! Even the motive is a little different in today’s photo. So, how would you react if someone was trying to convince you that both of the peacocks in the painting below are exactly the same? I’m not talking about dimensions here, what I’m saying is that both of the peacocks are in the same color. Don’t believe me? Try expanding the solution below. Then you’ll see how this very same image looks like if we remove the background.

Continue Reading …

Color Adapting, Tests, Blue, Color, Illusion, Peacock, Yellow

 (26 votes)

They are also on FB  - search "Mighty Optical Illusions -  Photography Fan Page." There is also an ap if you happen to have an I-phone or I-Pad or I-Pod touch. ENJOY!

The Write Stuff

    I've discovered something recently that I thought I would share with you. Those of you who have ever struggled to capture your thoughts in written word will probably recognize most of what I have to say, while those who have never attempted to write outside of a school assignment may gain a little insight.
     Writing is hard work. When I was younger, it seemed as if stories and papers flowed effortlessly from my fingers, a magic that worked simply by wishing it to be so. Now, as I have had the opportunity to re-read some of my youthful works, I discover that while the writing might have seemed easy, it could have stood a great deal of editing. Much of it I now find juvenile. Perhaps that is the hallmark of a mature writer, the ability to recognize that a first or second draft does not have the polish, the flair, the presentation that a carefully worked, well reviewed and edited final draft can have. Do I still have moments when the creative juices flow and the story crafts itself on the screen as fast as my fumble fingers can type? Yes indeed, I do. However, those moments are few and far between and usually occur late at night when I should be sleeping. When I set down with the intention of writing, I no longer have access to the ease that once was there. Maybe I'm just out of practice?
     I, use, too many, commas! I wonder if it's because so often in our daily conversations that we speak in great run-on sentences and my writing merely reflects that? Or is it simply that I learned to love the comma and my mind subconsciously structures sentences so that they must be included? I don't know. I have made great efforts in editing to decrease the comma content of my writings, but still find one or two in nearly every sentence. At this rate I will wear out the comma key faster than I will the period!
     Thirdly, characters do not always speak. I have often heard writers say that" the story practically writes itself," that "the characters tell me what to write." I hereby cry hogwash and hooey hokum. I have been working with some of the characters in my stories for over 15 years, and while I have a general idea of how they might phrase something, especially in a peculiar situation, there are often great parts of recorded conversation that are not so clear. No matter how often I reread my manuscript, I find myself revising a word here, a sentence there, so that the characters voice becomes clearer and truer.
     Point number next, character development is hard. I have never been one to write much beyond a few pages, so I have managed to avoid this task for the most part. I've found that developing the characters in a story is much like getting to know a group of people. First impressions are easy, and often vague. As you spend more time with them, you begin to notice complexities, subtleties and nuances that make them distinct from every other ex-soldier turned farmer you might have met in the past. Finding a way to convey those distinctions in the written word in a way that is both insightful and retains the reader's interest, that's hard.
     All that being said, I still really enjoy writing. It allows me to spend time with people I really like, and people that I (mostly) have control over, which appeals to my OCD tendencies. I have the privilege of seeing them grow and develop as people, almost like watching children, but with less whining and dirty diapers!
     I am coming to the conclusion that I will probably never make it as a published author, or a professional writer. Yes, I will continue my feeble efforts as a blogger, and as a novelist. Someday, maybe, it will all come together. In the meantime, please bear with me as I learn and grow.