A/C Solved, Computer Unsolved, and Goofy Family Stories

Whoo Hoo! The a/c is fixed, so the house is cool--fantastic, now that 90s are going to be the norm for the next two or three months.

I'm a geek in many ways, but not so much in the computer realm. I've been using a program that will find and delete index.dat files, but anybody know how to eradicate those stubborn DAT files that are unnecessary yet impossible to delete because (supposedly) they are in use by Windows or some other program? I am not a happy camper.

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Gotta be up on your Loony Toons for this one:
When I visited family in Tucson in May, my mother was assigned the nursery as her sleeping quarters (hey, the baby hasn't used it yet!), and our luggage and various clothing and grooming items were stored on some shelves in there.

One morning, I was the first in the household to waken, so I snuck (sneaked?) into the nursery a couple times to get this or that. Mom shifted once, and another time she muttered something, so I asked her later if I'd woken her. She looked at me in surprise. "Didn't hear a thing."

I dropped into my best Elmer Fudd crouch, an imaginary shotgun in my hands, and did an exaggerated cartoon tip-toe across the living room. "I'm hunting wabbits."

Mom laughed, head back, then imitated me. "Be vewy, vewy quiet."

Next day:
As we neared the base gate on the return trip from Phoenix, a few cars got between my brother's car and Mom's, so he and his wife and Niece #2 were at home by the time Mom and Niece #1 and I arrived.

That was a good thing.

Bubba noticed we weren't behind him--"Looks like we've lost Mom"--and then got distracted by the moon behind a palm tree, and wished he had a camera handy to capture it. Then he points across the road. "Look! A bunny!"

His wife: "Uhm, you just drove past the house."

And the day after that:
After taking orders for everyone's favorite flavors, Bubba and I went to the Shopette for Icees all around. On the way, we saw a truck that sported a sign: "Makes Frequent Stops."

"Guess it just gets a wild hare, and stops." Immediately, he and I stomp on imaginary brake pedals, lurch in our seats, and make squealing-brake noises.

Then one of us--I can't remember which--points across the road. "Oh, look! A bunny!"

Sh! Be vewy, vewy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits.

Welcome to my insane little world.

Hot and Humid and Progress

The air conditioner went out last night.

Wouldn't be so much of a problem, I guess, except that I live in the Arkansas River Valley. In summer, the American South is notorious for its soul-sucking humidity.

Strong thunderstorms are expected this afternoon, too, so no opening of the windows (which I'm now closing before the temperature rises any further).

On the writing front: Though no real progress this weekend on the fantasy novels, I've been at work on the sideways modern novel set in the Southwest. I can't tell much about that novel; it's so different that I've never read or heard of a storyline quite like it, and I don't want to give it away before 1) it's finished, and 2) a publisher buys it. Then I'll promote it like crazy.

Space Pirates, the Continuing Saga

Read the beginning here, or the second excerpt here, or just keep reading for the third installment, below.

I had not intended on posting the story, but then I figured it might help my creativity with other projects. For those of you who've read the previous entries, there's a gap in action between excerpts 2 and 3. I left out a scene 1) because it seemed boring, and 2) it's contents would be implied by what happens next. (But, since this is a work in progress, anything can change!)

And now, on Space Pirates:

A sleek blue merchant approached astern the Martina Vega. Finney watched on the screen, saw the government insignia on the nose marking the vessel as a constabulary presence, but did not acknowledge the ship until hailed.

“Ahoy the Vega. This is Captain Iona Zoltana of the Orpheus, requesting permission to dock.”

Ungritting her teeth, Finney loosened her jaw a little before acknowledging. “Aye, Captain Zoltana, the Vega welcomes you aboard.”

“Well done,” said Kristoff’s quiet, amused voice behind her. “You told that lie with a straight face.”

Finney guided the Vega gently to starboard aft, pleased when the craft obeyed and met the Orpheus with so gentle a kiss that neither ship so much as squeaked. “How’s the headache? Thought Doc told you to stay in bed a day or two.”

“Nothing to do there.”

“You could think of something.”

“Not without company.”

“Hope you wore your best shirt. You know how starchy Zoltana is.”

“That’s not the company I meant.”

“Well, it’s all you’re getting, captain.”

Kristoff stepped closer, his voice near her ear vibrated down her backbone, and his breath ruffled her hair. “One of these days, Fiona Grace.”

She refused to shiver, or to let heat rise up her neck. “Yep. One of these days, I’ll jump ship and hire on to a courier vessel.” She smiled. “Faster, prettier, and with a better-looking crew.”

He drew back. “That a hint to raise your pay?”

“You know I never turn down cash.”

“Never?”

“A girl’s gotta have principles.”

“And a good ship.”

“And a good ship.”

Finney waited until his footsteps faded before she relaxed her grip on the controls and slumped in her chair.

One of these days, Fiona Grace.

c. 2008, Keanan Brand

Thanks to Tex...

Texican over at Pappy's Balderdash has listed "Adventures in Fiction" as one of the blogs that makes his day. Check out his blog -- guaranteed to make you smile!
The rules for this award are:
1) Write a post with links to 5 blogs that make me think and/or make my day.

2) Acknowledge the post of the award giver (Muchas Gracias, Texican!)

3) Tell the award winners that they have won by commenting on their blogs with the news!

(Just because a blog is listed below does not obligate the blogger to provide his or her own list. This is merely an acknowledgment of good writing and interesting sites.)

Here are my five choices:

1. In the Open Space: God & culture. Carmen Andres. An invitation to view the world through a new lens, to see God's presence in art, cinema, literature, and various unexpected places. Also a good source of movie reviews, with a spiritual spin.

2. A Christian Worldview of Fiction. Rebecca Miller. Christian fantasy writer and main mover behind the monthly Christian Science Fiction & Fantasy Blog Tour. She sure knows how to stir up debate!

3. The Write Fashion. Jadesmith. A friend's eclectic blog about anything from fashion (I'm just this side of clueless) to books to writing to life in general. She sometimes posts samples of her artwork, too.

4. Overheard Lines. Funny or just plain strange snippets of actual conversations. There are many contributors, so there's not a name to list here. Just check it out -- but conversations are recorded without censorship, so beware raw language.

5. Scriptorius Rex. Jeff Draper. Get ready for deadpan, tongue-in-cheek humor, as well as news on work, home, and the writing life.

So, to those whose blogs I've listed, Congratulations! To everyone whose blog I didn't, you are by no means forgotten. If you're over on my blog roll, you have something interesting to say. Everyone, check 'em out!

Remembering

It's Memorial Day here in the States, a day for remembering those who served our country and gave their lives for it.

My father is still very much alive, and served in the Navy during the Viet Nam years (when I was born). My "little" brother is currently in the Air Force, and has been for almost all his married life, having joined in his late teens. Sundry other relatives on both sides of the family have served in other branches: Marines, Army, and Coast Guard. I, however, have only been able to support and admire them, which I do with all my heart.

There's a stone-walled national cemetery in the city where I work, and it's decked out in American flags, the gates flung wide even at night this weekend. When Mom and I drove past on our way home from Arizona, we saw someone drive through the gates and down the lit, flag-lined drive at around 9:30 p.m., an older gentleman going to pay his respects.

I have taken kids from the youth center there for photography trips, and they are always fascinated by the headstones and the history, and I relish the opportunities to speak with them about patriotism, sacrifice, honor, heroism, and other old-fashioned, high-sounding concepts that seem to have lost their meaning (especially among civilians) in this modern age.

A Memorial Day poem:

M is for mothers who sent their children off to war

E is for the everlasting gift of freedom

M is for the mums that decorate the graves of the soldiers

O is for the old men that are veterans

I is for the island off Hawaii where the Japanese bombed Pearl harbor

A is for America, the home of the brave

L is for the land of the free

© 2001 Anna, 3rd Grader, Academy Elementary School, Madison, Connecticut.

May we never forget.

Space Pirates, Yet Again

Remember The Muppets television variety show? There was a comic space opera segment called "Pigs in Space." Funny stuff.

For some reason, I think of that when working on my space pirates novel (still no title). It's not quite as witty and funny as the goofy puppets, but I'm having fun with it. The beginning was posted near the first part of May (I can hear the television voice-over narration: "Previously, on Space Pirates"), and here's installment number two ("And now, on Space Pirates").

Smiling, Kristoff stood a moment longer in the crow’s nest, a low-profile turret above the crew deck, and stared out into black, starlit space. He’d rather be here than anywhere.

Descending the ladder to the deck, he caught the low intense sounds of voices in muffled argument. Great. Corrigan and Wyatt, or Corrigan and Alerio, or Corrigan and anyone else.

No. From the next level down. The passenger cabins. Already?

He strode along the crew deck and clattered down the companionway, finger-combing his hair and tucking in his shirt as he went. Since negotiating for cargo, he hadn’t considered trivial things like a shower and a clean shirt. Hope nobody’s allergic to stink.

Down the last step, around a right angle, and he entered the passenger quarters. Two men, faces red, stood nose to nose and chest to chest.

“Afternoon, gentlemen—”

“You will not speak to her, you will not look at her, you will not be in the same room with her—”

“She’s a free woman!”

“She’s mine!”

“She’s not a crate of cargo!”

“Gentlemen.” Kristoff gripped the men by their shoulders and smiled, not happily. "This is a freighter first and a pleasure cruiser a distant second, but we aim to serve our guests. We can’t do that if they don’t behave. Now, there’s a corner of the cargo deck where you can beat each other to a squishy pulp, but you will not block the passage, and my crew will not clean up the blood.”

The belligerent idiot “owner” of the unnamed woman tried to pull away from Kristoff’s grasp, but without success. “Who are you?”

“Helmer Kristoff, captain of this fine vessel.”

“Fine vessel?” the idiot sneered. “More like a death trap.”

The lover grabbed the idiot by the shirtfront. “A death trap, and you brought her here anyway? You son of a—”

The idiot threw a punch. It landed poorly, skimming the other man’s cheek. The lover responded with a knee to the groin.

Kristoff grabbed fistfuls of the combatants’ shirts behind their necks, and dragged them along the passage, through the common room, through the guest galley—where he almost lost his grip on the struggling men—then down the companionway to the cargo deck, the idiot and the lover trading curses and half-landed blows, most of which struck Kristoff, if they struck anyone.

Corrigan looked up, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. “Want help with that?”

“You can lock the cage, as soon as I toss ‘em in.”

Slapping his palm with a business-size wrench, Corrigan grinned.

The lover flailed at the idiot, who flailed back. Kristoff pushed them inside the cage. Just as Corrigan grabbed the door, Kristoff saw a blur out of the corner of his eye.

Pain exploded in his head. Comets and constellations whirled before him—then all was black space.

c. 2008, Keanan Brand

Home!

'Nuff said.