Posts Tagged With: Sillyness

Fairyland Temptation


I’m half-convinced that not only are there Fairies at the University of Redlands, but that they’re actively trying to get me to join them.  Observe the evidence:

Asher and I walk Brian to work most mornings.  I was walking home a few weeks ago, and I passed a tree which had step stools of mushrooms leading up to its trunk.  I thought it was funny, and it made me wonder what kind of nyad would willingly live on a college campus near Frat Row.  The debaucherous type, I suppose.

I passed by the next day and the stepping stones were gone.  Closed for business was Fairy Land, I guess.

But then the lilies started to appear in strange places, big pink clusters of them peeking out of the ivy, no visible leaves but just a stalk rising from the dirt.  There is no rhyme or reason for their placement.  We’ve seen feathers falling from the sky, and a secret mailbox ensconced in a bush by the alumni house.  Half open, for temptation, of course.

This week I found a mushroom doorstop clinging to a tree, the joint where the roots meet making a perfect semblance of a door.  It’s been tempting me every day since, and that one hasn’t closed for business yet (probably because it’s not in the path of the mowing gardeners).

All of this, of course, can’t be just coincidence.

My question is, though, what kind of Fairy thinks that a 36 year old lady with a baby would go rushing off to join them?  What would I do with the baby?  He’s formula fed, and I wouldn’t know how long until we could get back so I’d be loathe to go without some assurance that he’d be fed.  I can picture myself loading up the stroller with eighteen canisters of formula, falling out on the sidewalk as I try and inconspicuously walk around campus to the tree.

Or worse… “Don’t worry,” the Fairies would say.  “We’ll feed him.” but we ALL know what that means.  I’d never be able to take him back to the mortal realm again.

I suppose I could leave the baby with Brian and go alone.  But I’d be forlorn without that boy.  And time passes differently in other realms.  I’d never take the chance that I’d miss seeing Asher grow up.

So I’ve been viewing it all with quiet amusement before going home to get the baby a bottle and put dinner in the crock pot.  Maybe do a few loads of laundry while I’m at it.

I’m writing a book about Fairies right now.  Maybe they’re just telling me they approve of my next novel?

Anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Categories: Fiction, Life, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment

From the Text File

Sometimes I forget what Brian and I wrote to each other, and then I’m flipping through old texts for something else and I start laughing.  This gem is one I found this week, from when Brian went to get sandwiches before the Redlands Christmas parade.


Me: Are you alive in there?

Brian: Barely.  I’m still waiting for our food.

Me: Sounds good.  I just wanted to make sure you didn’t run off with some hot blonde in a Christmas sweater or something.

Brian:  Kettle cooked or regular?

Me: I prefer my blondes kettle cooked.  But you know, it’s up to you.

Brian: Umm…  I just wanted your chip order.


So basically, it’s never boring at home.  Also, I think I’m hilarious.



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An Explanation of Beach Smut


I talk about Beach Smut on the blog sometimes, and it dawns on me that this is a term much like “Space Chicken” – my family uses it and everyone else has no idea at all what we mean.  (Space Chicken, by the way, is a supermarket rotisserie chicken in a plastic dome.  All ready to go into space in its own little ship).  But Beach Smut is an important thing to know about.

To qualify as Beach Smut, a novel can have no redeeming informational value.  It has to be for fun only.  No thoughts or deep meanings required.  Only feels.  If you’d never tell your English teacher about the book, but you’re LOVING it anyway, you’re probably reading Beach Smut.  In short, this is a genre that’s perfect for when you’re sitting and sunning yourself on the beach.  It’s vacation if you’re sunning yourself on the beach.  No high thoughts, morals, or meanings allowed.

I consider Twilight to be the pinnacle of the Beach Smut genre, although there are others just as good.  It’s a quick read, a little salacious, with plenty of Vampire/Werewolf drama.  It’s easy to identify with Bella, and it’s hard to take seriously.  There are four whole books, so you don’t even have to think hard about what you’re reading next.  Perfect.  Dive right in.  Others that qualify are Kiera Cass’ Selection series, any Anne McCaffrey novel, and things labeled “Aunt Dimity.”  I’m sure you can think of a host of others.

We all read them.  And their quality has to be judged differently from that of more serious books, because the aim of the author is different in writing them.  You can’t fault Twilight for not being The Fault In Our Stars.  It isn’t fair to either book, and it isn’t fair to either author.  They’re a totally different thing and they each have a valid place in the world.

So there you have it.  And when I rave of the Beach Smut merits of a particular book, you will know what I mean.

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