Monthly Archives: May 2013

grade paper, eat gummy bears, repeat


That is the pile of papers that I finished grading over the long weekend.

There are still about 40 to go.

So my writing and blogging have been slim, to say the least… but I have a lot of great ideas ruminating for Copper, I got some book money for my birthday last week that has yet to be translated into books (what to choose, what to choose?), and there are only 16 more days to go until a glorious summer!


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Filed under Life

Homeless & Horses

Yesterday was my birthday!

Have a short story in celebration. ;)


The multitude of homeless people in Oxford surprised Anna; she’d not been briefed on this during any pre-departure meetings. She rolled her luggage through the mixture of paved and cobblestone streets to what would be her flat during her Michaelmas study-abroad term and did her best to firstly, not get lost, and secondly to ignore all the homeless people along the way.

It took her a few weeks to adjust to the city and figure out the best routes. Soon, though, she knew that she could take Walton, Little Clarendon, Broad, and St. Giles Street to get to most of the places that she needed, like the market, library, and college that she’d be spending most of her time in. And as she learned the routes, she learned which homeless people “lived” on which street. Some were politer than others, and she began to plan her walks around them. It was worth an extra block or two if it otherwise made life easier.


Though reading and writing quickly consumed her life, as they did most Oxford University students, Anna still needed to find time to breathe. She’d heard rumors of a place called Port Meadow, north of the city center and her flat, where wild horses and cows were free to roam along acres of fenced in land. Two weeks into the term, with a grasp on the essentials of life abroad, she felt she was ready to find this place and meet the horses.

Of course, reaching Port Meadow involved walking on a non-preferred route, past a long row of homeless people. It was easiest to not meet their eyes. Anna didn’t exactly have much money either; the exchange rate was roughly two dollars to one pound, therefore quickly draining her bank account dry. So she tucked her head down and walked rapidly through the streets, ignoring the homeless people with dirty hats and ratty McDonald’s cups sitting next to them, asking for change, or even the homeless who tried to hawk Big Issue magazines through the government assistance program.

“I’m pregnant, love, and could use a quid.”

She looked up, startled by the voice, and met the homeless woman’s eyes.

Damn, she thought. The mistake was made and now she couldn’t ignore the conversation. The woman’s voice had the rattle of a smoker, but she smelled like all the other homeless people and Anna didn’t note tobacco among the pungent scents. She was tall, probably close to six feet, with stringy blonde hair. Her thick white sweatshirt, now stained, hid any potential proof of her pregnancy.

“Just a quid?” she prompted.

The battle raged on within Anna. She might truly be pregnant. She might need money for food and clothes and shelter. Or she might turn around and spend all of this in the nearest pub.

Anna covertly dug through her messenger bag for a handful of coins—all pennies, which were obnoxious to count out at the registers—and passed them off. She rushed off to avoid hearing the homeless woman thank her for a measly handful of coins, but thank her she did. Anna mumbled something and continued walking, eager to meet the wild horses.

She would never forget that first moment she walked through the gate to Port Meadow. All cares and worries melted away as she stepped foot into “the leaping greenly spirit of trees and the true blue dream of sky” made real, for surely e.e. couldn’t have meant anywhere else but here. The perfect meadow stretched before her. A bike trail, walking trail, or grand expanse of grass beckoned toward her, and Anna chose the grass. She traipsed through until her shoes began to squelch in the mud where the ever-changing pond had chosen to dwell for that day; with the next rainfall, it would grow even more.

The horses were there, drinking deep from the muddy water.

People often said things like “horse craze is a phase all little girls go through,” but Anna had never grown out of it. Seeing the magnificent creatures up close made her feel alive and full of joy. She didn’t know where to begin, but a horse with a bright white blaze on its face introduced itself by walking straight up to her.


“Hi,” Anna said, surprised. The horse’s nostrils widened and Anna blew politely into them, teaching it her scent. The brown mare’s belly was wet with dew from brushing so low to the tall grass. She was clearly pregnant. Anna let her snuffle through the pockets of her cozy black peacoat while she planned out what to bring her the next time she came by. Horses ate apples and carrots, but could a horse safely eat a whole apple if handed one? Would it have to be chopped up and stuffed into her pockets in little baggies?

Guiltily, Anna recalled the other pregnant being she’d interacted with that day: the homeless woman that she’d tossed some pennies to. Why am I willing to plan a shopping trip for an animal, and make plans to see it again, yet all I plan to do for someone in need—of my own species—is avoid them or give them as little as possible if I can’t? She shook her head, dug her camera out of another pocket to snap a memory of the mare, then trudged home as the sun set behind her.

She stopped at the market the next day. The Co-Op was cramped compared to the grocery stores Anna shopped in back in the states, but she wove through the tiny aisles and reached the corner full of fresh produce. She picked two apples, two carrots, and then thought about what a homeless person might desire. Something warm wouldn’t stay warm for long; anything in a can would be difficult to open. It might be offensive to hand someone a homemade sandwich, and sweets wouldn’t be nutritious.

I’m overthinking this, she thought in frustration, and grabbed another apple along with a baby-carrots-and-ranch-dressing pack. If fresh food was good enough for a horse, it should be good enough for a homeless person. Anna immediately felt horrible for thinking such a thing, and knew she just wasn’t going to win.

She put off her return for a week. Her studies called for her attention, and she was eager to let a distraction exist. But the meadow called to her, and she braced herself as she jogged up Walton Street.

The pregnant woman was there, and smiled when she saw her.

She knows I’m a sucker, Anna thought. Yet she found herself smiling back.

“Fancy sharing a pound or two with a pregnant woman?” she asked. Anna tried not to feel uncomfortable as they stood face-to-face.

“I’m Anna,” she said. “And I would love to help. What’s your name?”


A dagger sank into Anna’s heart. Natalie was her sister’s name. This woman was just like her, could be a member of her family, but she was living on the streets and Anna was assuming the worst. Of course her name is Natalie. She took another deep breath and continued her speech. “I don’t have any change with me at the moment”—a lie—“but I do have some snacks, if you’d like.” She retrieved an apple and the carrot pack from her bag and held them out in offering.

“Why thank you, love,” Natalie said. It sounded genuine. She bit into the apple and leaned back against the blue wall she frequented of the Phoenix Picture house, and Anna took it as permission to leave. She continued on to Port Meadow and managed to spot the pregnant mare scratching her hindquarters against a tree. Anna needed the mare’s friendship, and somehow the horse understood that; she moseyed up to the woman and began to snuffle her pockets.

“It’s true, I’m bribing you for friendship,” Anna whispered while the horse chomped on an apple slice. She ran her fingers through the tangled auburn mane and thought about how free the horses in the meadow were.

“You have no idea how lucky you are,” she told the horse—though perhaps the horse suspected, since others broke off from the distant herd and meandered over to the provider of crunchy treats. Anna shared with the other horses, hoping none of them were biters, and then bribed her pregnant buddy along behind her with bit by bit of carrot. She led the horse to the dock overlooking the meadow, where the horse could graze nearby and she could continue with her Shakespeare readings.


Natalie wasn’t around for the next few days, as the skies decided to open up and pour a few inches down onto the world below. Anna clopped around town with her wide black umbrella, thankful for the cobblestones that kept puddles from forming like the ones she was used to trudging through back home. When the sun showed up again, slowly evaporating the wetness, she knew to expect Natalie. Anna had an apple for her horse and a packet of peanut butter crackers for “her homeless friend,” as she’d taken to thinking of her. She held it out as soon as she saw Natalie, who leaned against her regular, chipped-blue-paint wall, staring out unflinchingly at the world.

“Thanks,” the woman said with a smile. “God bless ya.”

Anna couldn’t help but notice that Natalie still didn’t appear to be pregnant in the slightest. The lack of cigarettes or beer bottles helped her try to ignore it, though.

“Where d’you go when you come up this way? Not much up there for a uni kid.” Natalie tore open the flimsy plastic and began to chew on one of the crackers.

“Port Meadow—it’s a big field with wild horses, very peaceful. I like to read there and visit with the animals.”

Natalie laughed. Anna clammed up immediately, aghast that anyone could not find Port Meadow as perfect as she did.

“That’s sweet,” was all the homeless woman said, and Anna continued her walk.

Proves she’s ungrateful, she told herself, though she knew it wasn’t true. She skirted around a homeless man who was sleeping on a pile of rags, so dirty that they’d all lost their original color and become a clump of dark grey matter. A skinny shepherd dog curled next to him.

She still had the apple. She had money in the maroon messenger bag she clutched to her side. But she didn’t stop for him. Another man was stretched across the bench near the entrance to Port Meadow, staring up at the sky. His head rose when he heard her footsteps.

“Spare a bit of change?” he asked through coughs.

Anna shook her head and continued on to the horses.

The heavy rain had filled the craterous, soggy middle of the field into an enormous pond, almost double what Anna was used to seeing. Her pregnant horse, noticeable even this far away thanks to her dark brown coat and distinctive white blaze, was across the pond from her. She wouldn’t be able to see her today. Other horses grazed near the dock where she usually sat, including the one she called Bad Horse for always snuffling her pockets so intrusively, but she didn’t know how to pick who to get her apple. She wanted her favorite horse to have it, and she wasn’t available.

I’m such a jerk, she thought, feeling deflated. She reached a hand up to run it stressfully through her hair; a drop of rain splattered down onto her hand. She shoved it deep into the pocket of her peacoat and hit the apple. The drizzle picked up, beginning to flatten her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she said aloud, uncertain to whom she meant, and left the meadow.

None of the homeless people she’d passed on her way in had left their perches, despite the rain. Flashes of Sunday school learning popped into Anna’s mind as she walked. She knew quite well how many times the Bible urged everyone to help the poor. It was probably the easiest commandment to ignore. One of the homeless men, a beer bottle in hand, leered at her and began to speak, though his rising drunkenness swallowed his words up before any intelligible ones emerged. The hat at his feet had a slew of coins filling it. Who gave to him, and did they know he was using it on alcohol? Didn’t he know that he was affecting the willingness of people to give to those who truly needed it?

Natalie wasn’t in her normal spot. Anna didn’t know what to think. She had a copy of The Tempest in her bag and felt like the title was appropriate for how her heart felt, especially considering how damp the rest of her was after the ten-minute walk in the rain.

An unfamiliar homeless man sat on the corner of her street, beneath an Oxford University umbrella, just when Anna thought she’d be able to get home unobserved. She could recite the words along with the stranger: “Spare a bit o’ change?”

Anna shook her head. I don’t want him to know where I live.

Why? He’s a danger just because he’s begging?

Yes. No.

Maybe so.

The homeless man was giving her a look that warned Anna that she looked like the crazy one in the situation. Her internal monologue had made enough of an impact on her face that the homeless man actually backed away. Embarrassed, Anna ran down the street and let herself into her dry flat where she could finally peel off her soaking jeans. She missed whatever the homeless person had called out after her; the words were drowned in the now-pouring rain.

She removed the apple from her pocket, set it on the kitchen counter, tore off her peacoat, and threw  it over the radiator. The shiny red apple stared at her. Maybe this one was for her to eat. That was allowed. She didn’t have to give everything away to homeless and horses. Would she pick and choose her graciousness for the rest of her life, she wondered? One day—soon, too soon—she would have to leave Oxford, and the people on the street and the horses in the meadow would be for someone else to experience, and she’d be far away. “The poor you will always have with you,” Anna thought, spinning the apple on the counter. Nobody could run from “always.”

She stood up and filled a pot with water, then set it on the stove to begin boiling. She took a box of pasta out of the cupboard and set it on the counter. The Tempest needed to dry before she could begin reading it, so she grabbed her copy of Measure for Measure to skim through while she cooked. She’d read it earlier but needed a refresher so she could successfully write her Shakespeare essay for that week.

“The miserable have no other medicine/But only hope,” Claudio said in Act III, and Anna slammed the book shut. She sighed and finished making her spaghetti and meatballs. With the rain still tumbling down, she filled up a bowl and took it to the man on the corner.

out the door


Filed under Writing

Sunshine Award

Guess what?

Rachel over at Spilled Ink has nominated me for a Sunshine award. Thank you! This is exciting!!


The rules are:

  • Include the award’s logo in a post or on your blog.
  • Link to the person who nominated you.
  • Answer 10 questions about yourself.
  • Nominate 10 bloggers.
  • Link your nominees to the post and comment on their blogs, letting them know they have been nominated.

And now for the 10 questions:

  1. Favorite color – Bright sapphire blue, as in my wedding colors.
  2. Favorite animal – Wolves! They are beautiful, intelligent, loyal, and know the value of both teamwork and alone time… I love them.
  3. Favorite number – 3, it’s a minor OCD thing; I really like it when my bag of chips or number of ice cubes or whatever are 3 or a multiple of 3. One of my sister-in-laws is the same way. Weird!
  4. Favorite non-alcoholic drink – Hmmm. Probably water or root beer.
  5. Favorite alcoholic drink – A good ol’ rum and Coke, though I also love Beringer White Zinfandel.
  6. Facebook or Twitter? – Facebook. I like to keep in touch with my family and good friends through it, plus, I’m pretty hilarious over there. ;)
  7. Passions – Writing, reading, teaching, long walks, traveling.
  8. Prefer getting or giving presents? – I guess it depends. I like getting presents when they’re things that I can tell the giver put time into planning (like, the gift is actually something they knew I’d appreciate), and I like giving presents when I can do the same for someone. I find it very stressful to buy presents for people when I don’t know what they want.
  9. Favorite City – Oxford! I miss you, Port Meadow, the Bod, our crappy old flat on Walton Crescent, and the kabob truck on St. Giles street…
  10. Favorite TV Shows – Doctor Who, The Office, Once Upon a Time, Parks & Rec, 30 Rock, Community, Lost in Space, The Monkees

And here they are the blogs I want to give my award to:

1. What She Would Have Worn – my friend Brittan is a joyful, fashionable ray of sunshine, so it only makes sense to nominate her!

2. Wannabe Writer Life – I don’t personally know most of the other bloggers I follow on WordPress. Allison is one of those random people whose blogs I found and decided to follow just because she’s very interesting, and I like to feel inspired by other people who are on the same aspiring-author path that I’m on. Plus she’s Canadian and they’re just nicer than a lot of people. ;)

3. French Words That I Can’t Pronounce – She lives in Oxford and therefore has a wonderful life!

4. Shannon A. Thompson – Shannon is a published author, and very cheerful and approachable about it all. She gives me hope!

5. The Sloans – Rebecca and her husband Andy are just the cutest stinking couple. I tried to convince Rebecca not to move away when she came and worked with me at APU for a semester, because “moving to England just for a boy was a bad idea.” False! Her life is amazing. hahaha.

6. The Happsters – The Happsters’ goal is to spread happiness, which, face it, we all need. :)

7. Zehira Blog – A fellow teacher who is proud of her students. This blog makes me happy.

8. Joanne Eddy’s Blog – Joanne had very sweet words for me when I wrote about Frisco’s passing, which definitely counted as a ray of sunshine when I needed it.

9. Writers Two – fellow NaNoWriMer and very good-natured.

10. Fictioners – This is another guy that I don’t know in real life, but everything is so interesting that I really enjoy following his thoughts.

Well, there it is. I tried to avoid re-giving the award to bloggers who already had a Sunshine Award showing on their page. This is my first blog award, so hopefully I did it correctly. Fun stuff!

I’m working on another post for later this week based on a bunch of awesome projects that my students have been turning in. It isn’t related to writing, but I love creativity in all regards, so hopefully it’s still interesting.

For now… I’m just glad that I got through Monday. :)


Filed under Inspiration


Okay, this is another break from blogging about my own writing to talk about Sookie Stackhouse. The 13th and final book, “Dead Ever After,” came out today, so of course I flew through it as soon as work was over.


And… I don’t know.

I mostly liked it.

WARNING here be SPOILERS and SPOILERS so stop reading if you are trying to avoid


I feel like the series has been lacking something for quite some time. Charlaine Harris’ writing isn’t perfect, and nobody can say it’s high literature or anything–if it was, Sookie wouldn’t describe every little thing as “fire engine red”–but I love Sookie books because they’re quick, light, exciting reads with likable characters in an urban fantasy world. But the first few books had me rooting for Sookie, wondering what new scrape she’d get in to, wondering whether she’d end up with Bill or Sam or Eric.

And then… things got convoluted. She’s part fairy! She likes Alcide! There are demons and elves and they’re torturing her! She likes Quinn! Everyone powerful is her enemy! Let’s invent new things forever and ever! (I never liked the Vampire King and Queen stuff much in the first place, but the fact that they all hated Sookie got old and made it worse).

The simple love of Sookie got lost and weighed it all down. I haven’t thoroughly enjoyed one of the books in a while… there was too much going on that felt unnecessary. I know, it was supposed to be exciting and surprising and we were supposed to feel as confused as Sookie was by all this new information flooding her life.

I just couldn’t buy into all that.

I do think this latest book is an improvement from the last few. However, it would be nice to see more of the “main men”–Eric, Sam, and Bill–but they only pop in briefly. Amelia has more lines than any of them. Sookie gets hurt yet survives, and we think all is well but then (gasp) a new danger pops up and she gets hurt yet survives. The formula worked previously, and formulaic plots work for plenty of other series, so I don’t know why my expectations would be any different here… still, it makes it feel… cheap? Oh, and of course, a mysterious sum of money arrives to help her, as always, which frustrates me. Characters who magically get money to solve their plight (does money count as a deux ex machina, I wonder?), like Lorelai & Rory Gilmore, always kicks me out of the story and reminds me how IMAGINARY it all is. *Sigh* I seriously believe that my husband could secretly be a werewolf more than I believe I’ll ever receive giant sums of money like Sookie does.

I wanted the “final” book to tie things up nicely, and it didn’t. I found out there’s an encyclopedia-type book following up at the end of this year which will describe all the characters’ fates, so I guess that has something to do with it. But what’s going on with Sookie’s new telepathic nephew, Hunter? Why did we only get one steamy scene with the man she chooses–and, despite their perfection for each other (are you trying to avoid spoilers yet still reading this far? Phooey on you. She picks Sam and I called that from the beginning, but not with 100% certainty), no content knowledge of “happily ever after”? Again, I’m sure it’s supposed to feel more realistic this way, but IT’S A WORLD WHERE A GAY FAIRY OWNS  A STRIP CLUB AND A DEMON WEARS TUTUS, SO EXCUSE ME IF THE REALISM FELL THROUGH SOMEWHERE.

People are going to hate the fact that she doesn’t end up with one of the vampires. Bill opened up the world to her in a lot of ways, and Eric “got” her (sense of humor, etc.). But she never would have been happy with them in the long-term, because she would have grown old and they wouldn’t have wanted her anymore. She always hinted at having a fondness for Sam and a desire for children, and Sam can give her that peaceful, “normal” life. Sookie was obviously tired of the drama inherent in vampire life; Sam, as a shifter, isn’t even that embroiled in the were-animal politics that also involve drama. Sookie is ready to “retire” and just be happy; I felt like that was clear, and though the lead-up to it could have been stronger, it makes sense as the ending of the series.

Anyway. I’ll definitely reread this one. That had become questionable with the last few, but I’m confident that this is one that will make it into the re-reading habit. That’s a plus.

Overall, I recommend it. I almost always recommend finishing a series that one has devoted time to, rather than never knowing how it all wraps up. It’s the fun, fast-read Sookie we expect with a somewhat-satisfying love story (takes too long to get to!) and a promise that she has friends and security and is going to be happy with her life. Its flaws are all ones readers would already be aware of from reading other books in the series. I still feel Charlaine Harris had room to keep this going a little bit, maybe two or three more books to really wrap things up, but I understand her desire to stop. She was hitting a formula and inventing too many new things instead of delving into the wealth of characters/world/love stories/etc. that she already had.

So… it’s over. Wow.

I’ll miss you, Sookie! (and Sam)!

… perhaps I’ll start watching True Blood ;)


Filed under Reading

oh boy

Not once, but twice in the past week, random people have accessed my blog by searching for Mr. Bean.

Which means they reached the Van Gogh post with a picture of a naked lady who looks exactly like Mr. Bean.

Woops! :)

Writing is going well now that I’ve continued “Post-Camp-NaNoWriMo” at only 500 words a day. It’s easy enough that I’m still making progress on finishing Copper Book 2 while not being distracted from lesson planning for the-job-that-actually-makes-money-right-now. Speaking of which, we have a whole unit coming up based on short stories, so I’ve been elbow-deep in short stories–by women writers, no less. I think I’ll write a short story of my own and throw it in there… the students should be excited to have a teacher who writes, right? ;) Just kidding. But I am inspired to work on a short story, and may craft a creative writing assignment for my students, in which case I would offer up a short story of my own as a modeling example for them. And I’ll post it here, too.

Hurray for plans! I feel much better about life when I have a to-do list and am actively crossing things off of it. AND there are only 38 more days of teaching until my first real summer in years!!! I’m going to get so much writing (and reading) done. Hold me to it. It’s on a to-do list.

(Also… the 13th and final Sookie Stackhouse book comes out tomorrow. So that’s what I’ll be reading next. I do love my guilty pleasures)…


Filed under Inspiration