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*WARNING* Lots of geeky Lord of the Ringsness coming.

Several years ago I took the Eowyn Challenge and walked the distance from Hobbiton to Rivendell. Then I decided to keep going. I made the long trek south, down through the mines of Moria and into Lothlorien. In the breaking of the Fellowship, I followed Frodo and Sam through the Dead Marshes and Shelob's lair. We came into Mordor and I made it with them all the way to Mt. Doom(!) (I even did the bonus miles of the flight back to the Morannon. Frodo and Sam were lazy and slept through it, but I walked the whole way).

Yesterday I added up all my miles and realized that it was done. The quest is over, the Ring is destroyed! Yay! It only took 1980 miles of walking, sweating and grumbling.

(This is the map I've been keeping track of my progress on)

But just because the quest is done doesn't mean I'm done ^_^

My plan: follow Frodo and Sam all the way back to the Shire, then to the Grey Havens. Then maybe I can hitch a ride on one of those cool elven ships 8-)

I'll update you on my progress as I go. Right now though I better get moving if I'm going to get to Aragorn's crowning in Minas Tirith on time...

How to decapitate someone... and other topics not to be discussed in public

So a writer friend of mine was asking me about decapitation the other day. As a taxidermist that's not really that unusual of a subject for me. She had a character that needed to decapitate someone. I've removed the heads from quite a few critters* in my day, so I was happy to explain it to her.

Then I realized we were standing in a room of people, the majority of whom didn't know me or that I was a taxidermist and not some ax killer (side note: while you can remove a head with an ax, I prefer surgical scalpels). Not wanting to be a total coward I just lowered my voice a little bit and kept going, but I can only imagine what we would have sounded like to some random stranger.

I get the same feeling when I'm checking out books at the library when I'm researching mental illness and insane asylums.

I just hope our muses appreciate the socially embarrassing sacrifices we make for them.





* Just for the record, no, I have never cut off a human head. Wanted to a couple times, but...

Image from SXC

Lucky 7

I've been tagged by the awesome Asa Marie Bradly.

The game goes like this:

1.) Go to your current WIP…

2.) Go to the 77th page…

3.) Go to the 7th line…

4.) Copy and paste the next 7 lines…

Here goes. This is from my WIP "Beneath a Broken Sky"

“Well, I just offered you a sack full of gold and you barely blinked. A week ago you would have jumped at the chance and grabbed it with both hands.”

“No. I definitely want the Lakinas. I’m just tired. I’ve been going all through the night to catch up with you.”

“You can track me at night?” Quin asked. He didn’t think he left that obvious a trail.

She chuckled and he saw a bit of her old humor returning. “Just because your human eyes can’t see at night doesn’t mean I can’t. That and I knew about where you were going.”



And that's it. Not a real exciting part :-/ Oh well.

Now to find others to tag *evil grin*

Flash fiction challenge

So Kayla Beck ( @kaylabeck ) challenged me on Twitter to write a 200 word flash fiction piece. Here it is in all its hastily written glory. Length: Exactly 200 words ^_^

______________________

There. The dress was done. I sat back from the hunched position I had held as I sewed. The embroidered stitches laid out before me perfectly. They ran along the hem of the gown, more then just a trim. It was a masterpiece: the Queen’s Castle perched atop the rolling green hills of the up land in spring, banners flapping in the breeze. I ran my fingers over the tiny white sheep grazing in the meadow.
Once Master Seamstress Ora saw how well I had done, how tight and skill my work, she would promote me to journeyman. Then from there I would work for the finest lords and ladies. I would be called into court. I would ware a gown of silk, embroidered by my own hand.
“Are you all done?” Mistress Ora said coming to look at my work.
“Yes.” I said, triumphant.
Ora pressed her lips together. How could she frown at my work like that?
“What’s wrong?” I demanded.
She lifted the gown from my lap and the long folds twisted and fell as she held up the shoulders. To my horror, my embroidery disappeared, flipping to the underside.
“You sewed it on the wrong side.”