5 Golden Rings

 It's done. Child number 5 has entered the hallowed halls of wedded bliss. There's no guarantee on the earthly duration of the bliss, but if ignorance is also bliss, then turning a blind eye to many little annoyances should help. However, somethings are a very big deal. I shared with son-in-law that much of the rest of his life will be spent in discovering that many things he took for granted or never gave much thought to are now, in fact, a very big deal. The information will frequently come as a complete surprise to him; just as it will surprise her that he could've failed to realize a thing so obvious to her. They're in for some good times.

The wedding took place in the morning, followed by a luncheon, and then a reception in the evening. I shot a picture of one of the few outdoor decorations at the reception venue because nothing says matrimony like hyper-salivating lions.

We had all our children together again, and they had good news to share. 

We had a nice hike in this alien landscape:

 While the young ones chose to explore a cave, I elected to go up the red rocks--what with it getting dark and there being a marked lack of flashlights among us--as I didn't think there would be much to see by the light of a phone in the obscure, subterranean recesses--except for gargoyles. I watched Gargoyles with Cornell Wilde (he wasn't watching with me; he was in the movie) during workouts a few weeks ago and I knew I did not want to meet one or more gargoyles in the dark with only a water bottle and a phone light as my primary weapons. Maybe...if the water was holy water and the phone light was a ray of turning with a +2 flash causing cringing fear... but I digress.

 I didn't meet any any bipedal lizards and therefore didn't attempt to make a primitive cannon, and the spelunkers emerged sans gargoyle companions. It was an evening well spent.

Prior to the exploration expedition and after succumbing to a nap brought on by the earlier activities, I had a brainstorm while cogitating about a new short story. I've got the main character, now I have to hammer out a little trauma, drama, and dream to forge a tale of mystery and adventure that will smack the reader right between the eyebrows.

Next week, it's Writers Cantina. 

 

 

 

 

"Your bum looks really nice."
"Get in the left lane and turn right, here."
Those were two of the many strange phrases that I heard my daughters say this week in Rexburg. That first phrase actually referred to fourth daughter's hair bun (b-u-n), not bum--which made it significantly less disturbing that what I thought that I had heard. The second sentence was given to me by 2nd daughter as she directed me to one of the finer haute cuisine establishments in the aforementioned burg--Little Caesars Pizza where we ordered the "Extra Most Bestest" but actually received something well short of that hyperbolic superlative; the pizza was good, it just wasn't of the kind represented by the box in which it was presented. And she may not have included the comma--in the sentence, not on the pizza as that would have been an additional topping requiring a concomitant cash outlay.

What took us to that city at the feet of the majestic Tetons? (Those familiar with the area will recognize the profligate use of poetic license in that description--which is exactly the sort of dissolute dereliction of descriptive device that can get one's poetic license revoked, or suspended for 90 to 180 pages). It was just the little matter of herding another daughter into the marriage chute preparing another daughter for launch into the starry realm of marital bliss. Lift-off isn't for another month, but certain preparations were required. She is about to slip the surly bonds of single life, to move the familiar "me" back two spaces on the hierarchy of concern...behind "we" and "he" as he is about to do the same for "we" and "she."

Why would they do such a thing? Who knows? Who can say what drives seemingly normal persons to discard the comfortable "me" for the more troublesome "we"? What is that peculiar mix of chemicals and cogitation that renders "me" so plain, dull, and undesirable that it can only be remedied with "we"? Of course, it's not just any "we," but a particularly desirable combination that forms the "we." A "we" so pressing that the very thought of it being left unrealized torments the heart and soul. It is a yearning so profound, a desire of such depths, an ache of such magnitude that the mind can almost completely deny access to reason and other distractions--including eating and drinking. Love reached, but not grasped, plows the deepest of all of worry's furrows; unremitting and relentless, the sharp blade scores the fleshy heartsoil to the tender core.

Fortunately, the hope and expectation for the attainment of the "we" conquers all, driving the loving pair to master, carry on, breakthrough, and surmount all obstacles. If both hearts are willing, flesh and blood can overcome. The worrisome torment of fear and failure is vanquished in the ecstasy and euphoria of love at last grasped, held, and attained together. The time spent apart, with its accompanying distress, renders more pleasingly and potently sweet the eventual union of two hearts and souls into the absolute "we."

And, for those who care, Smoke is now available in paperback:

I had to make some slight modifications to the cover for the paperback and tinted the title with a smoky fill while I was at it. There's no time like the present to get your copy. I'm in the process of preparing Justice in Season for paperback. Writing of the sequel Justice Resurgent is still in progress.

They do as we did...

Daughters are strange and magical creatures. Absolutely nothing is more adorable than a baby girl. Whether she’s laughing, or staring questioningly from beneath the bowl of oatmeal that she has just poured over her head, she’s a tender, fragile, and lovable manifestation of the goodness in humanity. Unfortunately, she soon embarks upon a steady course to gradually, almost imperceptibly, shed all that is sweet and lovable.

At thirteen, the slow process is rushed to completion; the slow melt becomes a deluge. Almost all that is sweet and lovable is swept away. A cold, barren, bitter blade covered with thistle, shrouded in a cactus, and wrapped in barbed wire remains. Fortunately, this state is only temporary. Once again, slowly, imperceptibly, sweetness, with an alloy of maturity, begins to accrue. 

By the time she reaches sixteen, she shows definite human characteristics…many of which are good. She retains the light, doe-like grace of her early teens, adding to it the beauty of a young woman. She is… usually…a joy to be around. Young men have noticed her; they’ve been noticing her for a while. She has noticed their noticing, and she has been cultivating that fertile field; she has been dabbling in the dark arts of maquillage, and has pressed into her service potions of potent perfumes both penetrating and pervasive.  

She advances in years, knowledge, talents, beauty, and charm. Eventually, she finds a young man who has spent a number of years doing his best to become human. He finds her irresistible; she reciprocates, seeing in him evidence of what she hopes he may yet become. He sees in her all that he could ever want, hoping that she will never change.

They don’t know what lies ahead. They don’t comprehend what trials loom before them. They don’t see the obstacles that will cross their path. They cannot conceive of the heartaches that they may face. But they know that their parents before them didn’t understand these things either. As parents, we don’t know what the future holds for them any more than we knew what it held for us when we were young and in love. We did, as they do, pledge ourselves for today, tomorrow, and forever. We did, as they do, hope for the best, and struggle to maintain the hopes, and the dreams for the good and meaningful life, to see our children do, and be…better than ourselves.