tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2212712995752638722024-02-19T21:18:10.762-05:00Chasing ChaptersJeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-57867626930958077972013-07-21T19:38:00.002-04:002013-07-21T19:54:28.153-04:00Biff and Mary: Chapter Fifteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Welcome to another installment of Biff and Mary! </span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Today's episode is brought to you by alliteration, autonomous body parts, unnecessary descriptions and a few common phrases I seem to see in nearly every book I've read lately (if you know which ones I mean and find them in the chapter, let me know in the comments!)</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Those of you who have read the previous chapters (just click the Biff and Mary tab, above, if you'd like to review) will recall that we last left our lovely couple in the doorway at Mary's house, with Mary embracing a strange man, leaving poor Biff stunned and stymied...</span></h3>
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<u><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Chapter Fifteen: In Which Biff Becomes Excessively Envious<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Biff stood silently behind Mary, in an uncomfortable quandary, wondering
if he should interrupt her embrace of the unknown man or sustain his stoic
nonchalant stance. As he frowned at the affectionate display in the doorway, a
sparkle outside drew his attention and he gazed over Phillipe’s red Robert
Graham garrison sport shirt-clad shoulder at the car parked at the end of the
drive. It was a BMW 1 Series Sport Edition Convertible in Carbon Black metallic
paint finish with 18” M light alloy V-spoke wheels, adaptive Xenon headlights, shiny
chrome accents and tailpipe and polished black vertical bars in the distinctive
kidney grille. The slowly setting sun caused the BMW’s shadow to hover
ominously over Biff’s practical Prius, which – as he saw now – really needed to
be washed, dried, and buffed to a proper shine, though it would likely never
have the perfectly polished presence of Phillipe’s vehicle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Biff sighed and his eyes moved away from the driveway drama, only to
find that the Phillipe/Mary embrace disturbingly continued. Just as Biff was
reaching out to poke a proprietary pinkie on Phillipe’s admirably clothed arm,
Mary finally drew back and away, though her smile was wide and bright and not
directed at Biff at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh, Phillipe! I can’t believe you’re here! How did you ever know where to find me?” Mary
bubbled as she ignored Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Phillipe flipped his medium-length brown-with-reddish-highlights hair
back out of his chocolate brown eyes and flashed Mary a stunningly spectacular
grin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I stopped by your parents’ place, and your mother was very
accommodating with your address, so I jumped in the Beamer and headed straight
for Loversville!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“But, but I thought you were in Paris until fall!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Phillipe’s eyes rolled heavenward with exhausted ennui. “Paris simply <i>bored</i> me, Mary. One can take only so
many parties and fashion shows and yachts, after all. So, here I am! Back to
see my lovely Mary!” Phillipe grasped Mary’s lightly tanned and toned arms and
pulled her in for yet another enthusiastic embrace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">His</span></i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> “lovely
Mary”?? Biff’s eyes widened and his
fists clenched in an unfamiliar way as he was filled with a new, incomprehensible
emotion. He panicked as he felt his
heartbeat increase to a disturbing cadence and the depth of his frown
threatened to crease the Revlon Cover-me-Up in Fair Maiden Ivory concealer he’d
applied to the stubborn behemoth of blemish on his forehead. His lungs filled
and refilled with air at a much faster than normal pace and he began to feel
rather faint as he stared ineffectually at his lovely Mary in this insolent
intruder’s arms. He felt beads of
moisture on his brow, and after thinking about it for a moment he realized it
must be sweat – something he’d heard of but never experienced, of course, as
sweating was simply not done in his circles. A sense of shame as well as fear
began to join the other unknown emotion that caused his rapid breathing and
clenched fists as he surreptitiously swiped his sleeve across his seriously sweaty
brow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Just when he felt he may explode
in some inexplicable but likely meaningful way, Mary drew away from Phillipe
once more. As her mouth opened to speak,
a shrill series of yelps echoed from beyond the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh! Poor Poopsie!” Mary exclaimed, running toward the back door. “I’m
coming, sweetiekins!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">For a swift but seemingly interminable moment, Biff was left staring at
Phillipe, begrudgingly admiring the Robert Graham shirt and the beige Cutter
& Buck twill pants as well as the hickory shade of his Ferragamo Sabatino
driving shoes and the Versace sunglasses that hung haphazardly out of his shirt
pocket. As his breathing began to return to normal, he looked up only to find Phillipe’s
gaze on his own shoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The mutual assessment was interrupted by a rocketing ball of pink fur
and tiny snapping maw, as Poopsie barreled into the room. Having been on the
receiving end of Poopsie’s protective nature, Biff’s feet took an instinctive
step backward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Phillipe, meanwhile, stooped down and caught the ricocheting puffball in
mid-bark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey! This can’t be little Poopsie, can it?” he said as he gathered the
previously-problematic pup against his chest. “Last time I saw you, you had to
be at least two ounces lighter and a lovely shade of lilac.” He turned to Mary.
“You simply must tell me who her stylist is. They’ve done a wonderful job and I’ve
been looking for a new one for my Lhasa, Lawrence.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh, I bring her to Penny at Paulette’s Pampered Pooch Emporium on the
corner of Pearl and Pickwick. They let you pick from plenty of powdery pastels!
Lawrence would look lovely in a light lilac, I’m sure!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Momentarily ignoring the dog stylist discussion, Biff felt his mouth
drop open in shock as Poopsie sniffed Phillipe delicately, and then her little
pink tongue reached out and licked his hand, tail wagging in apparent friendly
recognition. Biff looked down at his bandage-bearing thumb, which still
throbbed slightly from Poopsie’s earlier attack, then felt his scowl deepen as
he turned toward Mary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Mary was smiling a blinding, larger than ever, dazzling Crest White
Strips smile as she gazed adoringly at…at <i>Phillipe</i>!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh Phillipe, it is SO wonderful to see you again!” she gushed, seeming
to forget about Biff entirely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Biff forced a polite but firm “ahem” from his throat, causing all three
to turn their attention his way. Poopsie began growling menacingly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh good heavens!” Mary exclaimed. “How could I be so rude!” She took a step toward Biff and grasped his
arm. “Phillipe, I’d like you to meet my beau, Biff!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Phillipe gave Biff another assessing look before he shifted Poopsie in
his arms and his free hand reached out in a seemingly friendly way. He grasped Biff’s hand firmly. “Good to meet
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Same,” Biff said, unable to force himself to friendliness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Biff,” Mary addressed him – finally! “This is Phillipe Jean-Paul Boutonniere
the Third, of the Boston Boutonnieres, so well-known for their baby bunting and
bauble businesses in both Boston and Baltimore, of course. He and I were…er…good
friends back home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Biff nodded, regaining enough composure to possessively place his hand
over Mary’s as it rested on his arm. He smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach
his eyes and released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Phillipe carefully placed Poopsie on the floor and she sauntered off to
her pillow in the living area, pausing along the way to glare and growl at
Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, now that all that is out of the way,” he announced cheerfully, “we
can get to business. Mary, I would love
to take you to dinner this evening…what do you say?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As Biff’s mouth dropped open once again at the audacity of the incessantly insolent interloper, wondering what he should do next as he’d never been in a position
to purposely pound upon a person to possessively point out who, in fact, was in
charge here, he felt Mary’s hand leave his arm as she walked toward Phillipe
once more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh, Phillipe! That would be…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Will
Mary accept Phillipe’s offer?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Will
Biff figure out how to confront Phillipe?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Will
any boxes ever get unpacked?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Tune
in next time! </span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Georgia; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-22381615032427650112013-07-19T09:15:00.001-04:002013-07-21T19:55:31.464-04:00Changes, Announcements and Biff & Mary!Hello?<br />
Anyone there...?<br />
((crickets))<br />
<br />
Well. Can't say I blame you!<br />
I've been absent for months...sorry!<br />
<br />
The blog's been on a sort of unplanned hiatus while I've put my efforts into pursuing some writing-related jobs, and I'm happy to say that the time I invested has begun paying off. In addition to book reviews for <a href="http://www.forewordreviews.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ForeWord Reviews</span></a>, I've been busy with several proofreading and copy editing projects for <a href="http://www.skyhorsepublishing.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Skyhorse Publishing</span></a>, a well-established and growing New York publisher. I've had a lot of fun working on a variety of titles for them, including a few cookbooks and memoirs as well as an anthology of really good horror stories.<br />
<br />
I'm also happy to say that I've recently accepted a position as a Senior Editor for<a href="http://www.entrancedpublishing.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"> Entranced Publishing</span></a>, and I'll be editing primarily for their Mesmerized and Thrills imprints. I'm very excited to become part of their editing team, and I'm impressed by their commitment to the success of the authors they represent.<br />
(**And if you write romance and are ready to publish, check out the submission guidelines on their <a href="http://www.entrancedpublishing.com/submissions/submission-guidelines/" target="_blank">website</a>, or feel free to contact me through this blog or email jeannine (at) entrancedpublishing.com, and I'll be glad to put you in touch with the right person to get you started.)<br />
<br />
So...yeah.<br />
Been a little bit busy! :)<br />
That said, my old friends Biff and Mary have been clamoring for attention so I think I'll have to spend some time with them this weekend. For those still interested in Biff, Mary, Poopsie and friends, I am going to pick up where we left off, hopefully posting a new chapter by Sunday.<br />
I'm also hoping to translate some of the things I've been learning to this blog, specifically with posts about muddling through the writing process, links to sites to help you enhance your skills, and maybe some more Biff and Mary type "projects" to keep things fun. If you'd like to join in or just share some good links or books or whatever, please do!<br />
<br />
Again, apologies for the long absence and I hope you'll stick with me while I try to set this blog on a more focused course!<br />
<br />
:)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-52393237828575887152013-04-17T10:16:00.001-04:002013-07-19T08:36:16.680-04:004/15/13<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Love and prayers to the victims of this horrible, senseless tragedy. </i></span></div>
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<br />Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-74573839205570642392013-02-28T09:16:00.001-05:002013-03-01T07:51:40.022-05:00Biff and Mary: Chapter Fourteen<div class="MsoNormal">
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Welcome back for more Biff and Mary!</span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Today’s episode will be filled with
the vapid thought processes, extreme run-on sentences, excessive amount of
detail and ridiculous shallowness that epitomize our Perfectly Perfect Pair!</span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">When we last left our lovebirds at
Mary’s home in Loversville, they had just been attempting to unpack boxes and
were finishing their lunch while Mary’s pampered Pomeranian, Poopsie,
languished in the back yard. Buff, blemished Biff was about to reveal his deep,
dark, secret… ;)</span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Hope you enjoy!</span></b></h2>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">** If you'd like to read previous chapters of Biff and Mary, my exercise in How Not to Write, just click on the "Biff and Mary" tab above, or <a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/p/amorous-adventures-of-biff-and-mary.html" target="_blank">click here</a>. **</span></b></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Chapter
14: Wherein Biff’s Secret is Revealed and True Love is Tested Once More…<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Biff
cleared his throat, flipped his well-styled</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">sun-kissed
blond hair with the 23 darker streaks mixed in (which she had still yet to
determine were natural or the result of an expert colorist, but as she now knew
that her love knew no bounds she had decided she didn’t mind which), </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">and determinedly looked Mary in the
eye as he prepared to divulge the secret of his moniker misfortune.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Well,
Mary…it <i>is</i> important that we always be honest with each other…even about the most, er….challenging things,
right?” He looked at her hopefully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Mary nodded
and swallowed and tried to ignore the way her heartbeat had sped up because the
way it was beating made her think back to watching cartoons on her grandmother’s old
RCA television, which had it’s own dark
wood grain cabinet and metal rabbit ears on top which worked sometimes but
didn’t work others, and once in a while they had to crumple up tin foil and wrap
it on the ends of the antennas to make it work well enough for her to watch her
Saturday morning Looney Tunes when she was visiting. Anyhoo, she thought about watching the cartoons
and the way Pepe LePew’s heart would beat so hard that it would practically poke
right out of his chest every time he saw his lady love, much like Mary’s heart
was beating right now. She risked a quick glance down at her own chest, swathed
in the once-lovely-but-now-hopelessly-wrinkled white cotton blouse with the
delicate little cap sleeves, which had so nicely set off both her lightly
tanned and toned arms as well as her plum-colored pedal-pusher pants, not to mention her amethyst accessories, and was relieved
to find that her own frantic heartbeat wasn’t nearly so obvious as Pepe’s .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Mary?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Er…yes.
Yes, Biff, of course. Please go on.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Biff
cleared his throat again. “Well…my parents told me that they thought a man of my social
stature really needed to have more than one middle name, and since they wanted
to be sure to honor both of my late grandfathers when I was born, they gave me
both of their names. So…my middle names are... Ulysses and Reginald.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">He glanced
at Mary expectantly, braced for her reaction. When she continued to stare at
him vacantly, he took a deep breath and went on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“So…my full
name is... Bickford Ulysses Reginald Parker.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Mary’s
vacant look remained for a moment more, then her eyes widened and her mouth
dropped open slightly in shock and dismay. “But Biff…if…if that’s the case,
then that means that your initials are…”</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Yes!” Biff
interrupted, rising from his chair and turning to stare out the kitchen window,
obviously overcome with embarrassment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Yes. I am
afraid so, Mary,” Biff said, bravely squaring his shoulders and turning to face
her. “My initials are B.U.R.P.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Mary
blinked rapidly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Biff looked
at her apologetically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“It seems
my parents just didn’t have the foresight to consider how their misguided attempt to
honor their fathers would bring such shame upon their firstborn son.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Biff’s
shoulders slumped as he crossed his arms and cast his eyes downward in utter
shame. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Mary shook
herself and tried to think clearly. Yes, she had to admit that it was a
bit…disappointing. However, she sat up straighter, reminding herself that she
<i>had</i> been willing to accept Biff even if his name had become identified
forevermore with a tragic and devastating tropical storm.<i> Surely</i> she could accept the letters of his name coincidentally
spelling out the unfortunate gastronomical result of too many burritos. After
all, it <i>could </i>have been worse…he
could have been named something like Franklin Antonio Ricardo Thompson….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Well. If
she had to choose an association between the two possible gastrointestinal upsets,
Biff’s was certainly the better of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Mary stood
and went to Biff, grasping his hands firmly in her own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Biff, please don't worry. Your parents…I'm sure they meant well. Obviously they just didn’t think about
what they were doing, but…oh, Biff, it doesn’t matter! Don't you see? What we have together
can overcome any obstacle!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">She smiled
brilliantly at him, overcome with love, the kind of love that could overlook
even the most shameful and embarrassing things that any couple could ever face in their entire lifetime of coupledom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Biff sighed
with relief, returning her smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Thank you,
Mary. I feel so much better about all this!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Just as
Biff leaned toward her enough for her to begin to swoon at the scent of his
masculine, citrusy Burberry cologne, the doorbell rang.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“I wonder
who that could be?” Mary said. “Our lunch was already delivered and I'm not expecting….oh wait! Maybe
it’s my neighbors, Biff!” She beamed at him excitedly. “Maybe little Lily Littleton told them how much I needed them and they’ve finally decided to come over and help me with everything! Oh, Biff, maybe we won’t need to
learn to use that box cutting thingy after all!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">She rushed
to the door so quickly that it took Biff a moment to collect himself and follow
her. He came through to the foyer just in time to see a look of shocked surprise on Mary’s
face when she opened the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">“<i>Phillipe</i>!”
She cried, just before she threw herself into the arms of the tall, dark,
handsome man in the doorway…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Who is Phillipe?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Will Biff and Mary ever be able to
have an uninterrupted romantic moment?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Will anyone manage to open the
boxes?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Will Mary ever remember poor
Poopsie?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;">Stay tuned! </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Arial; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-30650201758344005672013-02-10T20:33:00.001-05:002013-02-10T20:39:03.703-05:00Books to Movies: Will it work for the Outlander books?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClMTjC7-G1XBBGs_-Quu-HkGcn54pLkHOvCQvnF4OqkoXCazyyybfaydWAZ1Q-hT1K49odpvT0LCUXLLsXOl3qyqqQQGq76ODls38PGmSzK55TigtdOcTcNSUwCJKNEa8KoJZQg_jwBB4/s1600/outlander+series.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClMTjC7-G1XBBGs_-Quu-HkGcn54pLkHOvCQvnF4OqkoXCazyyybfaydWAZ1Q-hT1K49odpvT0LCUXLLsXOl3qyqqQQGq76ODls38PGmSzK55TigtdOcTcNSUwCJKNEa8KoJZQg_jwBB4/s200/outlander+series.png" width="200" /></a></div>
<h3>
<i>Apologies for such a long, unplanned hiatus from the blog.<br />For those of you who are still interested in their misadventures, Biff and Mary
have been clamoring for attention and will likely make an appearance again in
the very near future, so stay tuned!</i></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There has been quite a lot of interesting stuff going on in
the writing/reading world these days, but the one that caught my
attention recently is an announcement about <a href="http://www.dianagabaldon.com/" target="_blank">Diana Gabaldon’s</a> <i>Outlander</i> books
being picked up by Starz for development as a drama series. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Am I the only <i>Outlander</i> fan who views this with at least a little bit of
wariness?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, I understand the author’s willingness to make the deal –
really, if it were you, and you stood to make the kind of money such a
movie/series could bring in, would you ever turn it down? Of course not. You'd sign on and hope they did a good job.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But as a devoted reader of the series…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Please... just, no.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If there is any one novel I’ve read that I do *not* want to
see on film, <i>Outlander </i>is it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is there any actress who could truly portray
someone as complex as Claire? Any actor who could convincingly become Jamie? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just
the thought of it gives me horrific visions of Keira Knightly wildly emoting
while Tom Cruise flips back a mop of artificial red hair. Yikes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And when it comes to the whole books-to-movies-or-television thing, I would
venture to say that history supports my skepticism.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Consider all of the books you’ve truly enjoyed. Have any
been turned into a movie?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or a television mini-series?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p>Can you think of any that have come even close to living up
to the book(s) they are based on?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take Stephen King, for example. He has a way of tapping into that
little spark of fear or strangeness in humanity that might otherwise go
unnoticed, and brilliantly twisting it into a nightmarish thing. Genius, really, and back
in the day, I loved reading <i>Carrie</i>, <i>The Shining</i>, and many others. And while the
movies based on those novels were entertaining, they certainly didn’t compare
to the books themselves. How could that kind of singular nuance of human nature and evil that
King captures so perfectly ever be sufficiently expressed by character actors
(even good ones like Jack Nicholson and Sissy Spacek)? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I haven’t read any of the <i>Twilight</i> books, and I don’t really
think I ever will, but from what I understand many of the book's fans were very unhappy about the movie casting, and felt that the action in the book didn’t translate
credibly to the big screen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If a major movie studio can’t do something like the <i>Twilight
</i>series justice on the movie screen, can we really have much faith in Starz
being able to do a superior book series like <i>Outlander</i> justice?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe I’m a “book snob” or maybe I’m a cynic, but I can’t
find it in me to be excited by that announcement. I love Jamie and Claire as
they exist on the pages, and in my mind, and I don’t want to see the <st1:place w:st="on">Hollywood</st1:place>
version of them. I really don't.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do the rest of you <i>Outlander</i> fans feel about it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you think there is any possibility that Starz can do
something worthwhile with the book?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'd welcome your opinions in the comments.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>{* One more thing! For those
die-hard fans like me, I highly recommend <b>Karen Henry’s <a href="http://outlandishobservations.blogspot.com/p/friday-fun-facts.html" target="_blank">Outlandish Observations</a>
site</b>. There’s a lot of great info about the books and the history, such as the
Friday Fun Facts, and lots of other fun and informative Outlander stuff. If you
haven’t been there, it’s definitely worth a visit!}</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-13034291788325834202012-06-16T12:08:00.001-04:002012-06-16T20:03:19.339-04:00Biff and Mary: Chapters Twelve & Thirteen<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTRCU_TEI7JWibS3_UudxRh7SVYCkEQtmMdIlJ8VkP_ofwzXf7PFOp8C93a0XrwJZTAHc5AeI5lBccA8fgrF4Acll4ceVFa30omykQMmDCYjG7f9jQaDGH4BW8vJI7VvaGtNeQphOz4aH/s1600/two+hearts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTRCU_TEI7JWibS3_UudxRh7SVYCkEQtmMdIlJ8VkP_ofwzXf7PFOp8C93a0XrwJZTAHc5AeI5lBccA8fgrF4Acll4ceVFa30omykQMmDCYjG7f9jQaDGH4BW8vJI7VvaGtNeQphOz4aH/s200/two+hearts.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Welcome back for more Biff and Mary! (previous chapters can be viewed <a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/p/amorous-adventures-of-biff-and-mary.html">here</a>)</span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">This chapter, we will continue the usual Biff-and-Mary shallow shenanigans accompanied by excessive description and utter silliness. Also, you will note an example of extremely unnatural, poorly punctuated and just-plain-bad dialogue in the beginning of Chapter 13. </span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I stumbled upon a similar butchering of character conversation in a book I read recently, and the result -- specifically, my cringing in utter horror -- was something I thought best shared, so you are very welcome! ;)</span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">(Seriously, though -- please, <i>please, </i>I beg of you!<i> --</i> don't ever write dialogue like this!)</span></span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Chapter 12: Wherein Biff Battles Boxes<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary felt the soft pressure of Biff’s lips on hers and
ran her hands up his shoulders and around his neck. The moment she inched her
fingers up and into his hair, Biff pulled back suddenly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Biff? Is something wrong?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“No, no, of course not,” Biff said, smiling as he
patted down his hair, checking to be sure it was in place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary realized their moment had passed and decided that
the best thing to do was change the subject.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Do you think we should try to get started on these
boxes, Biff?” She gestured at the
various piles of cardboard cartons that graced the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Biff smiled. “Of course! In fact…” his voice trailed off as he walked
back toward the front door to where The Poopsie Incident had occurred. He
paused en route, checking his reflection in the mirror and combing his hand
through his hair briefly before retrieving his leather satchel, which matched
the belt he wore and was lying on the tile where he’d dropped it. He brought it back to Mary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I discussed the box issue with Tony, our estate
handyman, and he assured me that all I would need is…” Biff rummaged through
the contents of the satchel, mumbling in frustration. “Now where is that….I
know it’s in there…darn it!” Finally, he
gave up and kneeled on the floor, dumping the entire contents of the satchel
onto the tiles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"> As
she viewed the contents of Biff’s satchel, Mary felt a moment of surprise as
she realized that there were certainly some areas of grooming at which Biff
excelled and, in fact, far surpassed her in terms of dedication.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"> Spread
out on the blue tiles was a brush, three different sized combs in blue, black
and brown, a small bottle of Paul Mitchell Sculpting & Styling Glaze, a
bottle of the same brand Unisex Flexible Hold Spray, and a small jar of Paul
Mitchell for Men’s Medium-hold/Semi-Matte Styling Cream. Mary also spied a tube
of dry shampoo and a travel-sized ceramic straightener. As she opened her mouth
to ask the brand name of the straightener (she’d been looking for a new one
herself), Biff swept aside the styling glaze and grabbed a small metal item.
“Aha! There it is!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“What is it, Biff?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">He quickly shoved all the hair products back into his
satchel, rose from the floor and opened his hand. Nestled in his palm was a
metal object, approximately four inches in length, with a sharp-looking blade protruding
from one end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Tony gave it to me. It’s a box cutter!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Biff used his other hand to push down a small screw on the
side of the object, causing the sharp blade to extend further.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“See? The blade will open boxes quite easily, I
understand.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary reached out a hand toward the box cutter, but
Biff drew it away with a small shake of his head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“No, Mary. I think it best if I handle the box cutter
myself. Tony showed me how to use it, and I wouldn’t want you to be harmed;
it’s a Very Dangerous Tool.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary nodded her head in solemn understanding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Well, where do you think we should start, Biff?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">The pair looked around the room and Biff knelt down by
the nearest box. “Why not here?” he said, with one of those heart-stopping
grins that always made Mary swoon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">With that, he reached out with the box cutter and
sliced through the packing tape that sealed it. He then opened the flaps of the
box and looked up at Mary triumphantly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary clapped her hands together. “Biff, you did it! How wonderful!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">She knelt beside him and together they began removing
the contents of the box, which turned out to be mostly Mary’s copies of <i>Vogue</i> and <i>People</i> magazines, as well as her two favorite books: <i>Fabulous Fashion for Refined Young Ladies</i>,
and <i>Makeup Secrets of the Stars, 1955-2010.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary and Biff started making neat piles on the floor
as they emptied the box, although both were soon distracted and Mary began
flipping the pages of <i>Makeup Secrets</i>
while Biff thumbed through a copy of <i>Vogue</i>. However, Mary soon realized that at this
rate, they would never accomplish what they intended, so she opened her mouth
to interrupt Biff’s perusal of the article “<i>Armani
or Prada: How to Choose?,</i> but the sound of the doorbell broke in at just
that moment.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><u><br /></u></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><u>Chapter 13: In Which Lunch Arrives and Conversation Ensues</u></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh! That must be lunch!” Mary exclaimed, rising from
the floor and rushing to the front door. She opened it to reveal a young man in
a smart blue uniform, with the white lettering “Bart’s Bistro” embroidered over
his left chest. He held a paper bag with
the Bart’s Bistro logo printed on it, and a delivery form in his other
hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Hello!” Mary said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Hello. Are you Miss Mary Dawson?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Yes, I am.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I have a delivery for you. It is from Bart’s Bistro,”
he said, lifting the bag toward Mary. “It is your lunch and there are also two
bottles of water in the bag and napkins and plastic forks and spoons in case you need them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary took the bag from him and smiled. “Thank you very
much.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“You are welcome. Thank you and have a nice day. Goodbye.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Wait. Let me get my purse…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“No need, Miss. The charge was put on your account and
you don’t need to pay me anything right now because they will charge you later. I have many deliveries and cannot talk to you any more so have a nice day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh, but I should give you…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">The young man shook his head. “No, do not worry
because we do not accept tips. I must go to my next delivery now so goodbye.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Goodbye.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary closed the door and turned to Biff. “I hope you
are hungry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Biff smiled and followed her to the kitchen. Mary set
the bag on the table and unpacked two bottles of mineral water, two containers
of Bart’s Best Fresh Garden Salad, two Turkey Club Sandwiches with Bacon, and
two slices of Bart’s Berrylicious Pie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">As they began eating their lunch, Mary turned to Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Biff, there’s something I never asked you that I’ve
always wondered…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh? Well, ask me anything, Mary!” Biff said, and he
reached across the table to lay his hand over hers. “For you, I am an open
book.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary sighed for a moment, then said, “Well, I know
your last name is Parker, and your first name is Bickford, even though you go
by ‘Biff,’” she smiled at him lovingly.
“But what is your middle name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Biff stopped smiling abruptly, looking rather
inexplicably panicked. “Er…why do you ask, Mary?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh, just wondering, really,” Mary said, and then
laughed softly. “You see, my middle name is Anne, and my family and I always joked
that my initials spell out the word ‘MAD’,” she laughed again. “So I thought it
would be fun to see if <i>your</i> initials
spell anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Biff slowly removed his hand from Mary’s, then used it
to run nervously through his hair, apparently forgetting how hard he’d worked
to achieve the tousled windswept-but-not-really look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“So, what’s your middle name, Biff?” Mary asked
innocently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">As the inevitable moment had arrived, Biff grew paler
and paler, and then let out the breath he’d been holding as he resigned himself
to full disclosure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“All right, Mary. I’ll tell you…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">(to be
continued)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">What could
Biff’s middle name be, and why does it upset him?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Will his
disclosure somehow threaten their fated love?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Will they
ever unpack any more boxes?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Will anyone ever remember poor Poopsie in the back yard?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-23421059051174041782012-06-08T20:33:00.001-04:002012-06-16T08:48:41.915-04:00Book Review: The Malorie Phoenix by Janet Mullany<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l4MJINlqi8o/T9KKv76t1qI/AAAAAAAAAN8/mwU_K0fujaU/s1600/Malorie+Phoenix+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l4MJINlqi8o/T9KKv76t1qI/AAAAAAAAAN8/mwU_K0fujaU/s200/Malorie+Phoenix+cover.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Title: <b>The Malorie
Phoenix</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Author: Janet Mullany</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Publisher: TKA
Distribution</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pub Date: April 24,
2012</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ISBN: 9781937776299</div>
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<br /></div>
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I enjoyed Janet Mullany’s novel, <i>Improper Relations</i>, so I was thrilled to be able to read and
review <i>The Malorie Phoenix</i>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because I am apparently too lazy to summarize today, I’ll
begin with the marketing copy/blurb provided by the publisher:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>She plays a deadly
game, but nothing is as dangerous as love. </i><i>Benedict de Malorie,
Earl of Trevisan, can never forget the masked woman he met one night at a <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city> pleasure garden.
The clever pickpocket stole his heart and his family's prized jewel - the
Malorie Phoenix. But the family treasure reappears in Benedict's darkest hour,
returned by its thief, along with the unexpected gift of his infant daughter.</i><i>Believing that she is
dying, Jenny Smith leaves her daughter in the custody of the baby's blueblood
father. Seven years later she finds herself in good health and alone, yearning
for her only child. To raise enough money to support them both, she takes part
in a daring escapade that requires her to impersonate a woman of quality. She
fools the ton and Benedict himself.</i><i>When Jenny finds
herself entangled in a murderous plot against Benedict, the father of her
child, her carefully laid plans begin to fall apart. All she wants is her
daughter back, but she never thought she'd fall in love with Benedict.
Revealing her part in the plot means she will almost certainly lose Benedict
and their daughter forever. But continuing to play her role puts them all in
terrible danger.</i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jenny and Benedict couldn’t be more different. Benedict,
raised to be Earl of Trevisan, could never know what life was like for Jenny,
whose circumstances lead her to steal merely to survive. Their initial attraction is
something that both of them act on without thinking, although they each fully believe
their liaison will never go further than that one night in the gardens of
Vauxhall. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jenny Smith is a refreshingly unconventional Regency
heroine. She has the guts to make her own decisions and stand by them, beginning with
that choice to toss caution to the wind and act on her attraction to Benedict. She
consistently trusts her instincts while doing whatever is necessary to ensure her
future and her child's. She doesn't apologize for her past or the choices she makes, even when circumstances become challenging.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for Benedict, he is equally likable. A good man who tries
to always do the right thing, he is portrayed as an involved, exceptional father and his scenes with daughter Sarah are warm
and touching. Mullany skillfully shows the depth of that father/daughter
relationship as well as the progression of Jenny’s understanding of it; while
she initially wants to get her daughter back no matter the cost, she quickly
realizes how devoted Benedict and Sarah are to one another. Combined with her own evolving feelings, her choices are not quite so easy anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The progression of the romance is realistic, although some
aspects of the plot are less so.<br />
<a name='more'></a> Jenny’s motivation for her actions is
made clear, as are the actions and motivations of the villain of the story.
However, the whole masquerading-as-someone-else trope can often stretch the
limits of credulity a bit far sometimes, as it does here. Jenny’s masquerade is
pulled off much too easily, and her acceptance by the family of the woman she
impersonates as well as Benedict and the entire ton just doesn’t <i>quite</i> ring true. Even considering only the
people of the ton that she must have come into contact with during the years
between her meetings with Benedict, it seems rather unlikely that no one at all would
recognize her, or know she wasn't who she claimed to be. Although some characters’ doubts are revealed later on, for the
most part her impersonation is just too readily accepted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That said, I did find myself rooting for the two to find their obligatory
happy ending, and hoping they'd end up one big. happy family. In the end, I just <i>liked</i>
them. The
romance and characters were strong enough to help me to overcome my inability
to suspend disbelief, and <i>The Malorie Phoenix</i> was ultimately a fun, engaging read with both touching and humorous moments. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>*Title was provided courtesy of The Knight Agency, via NetGalley</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i><br />
<i>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</i><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>**</i><b>Upcoming Reviews:</b><i> Thief of Shadows </i>by Elizabeth Hoyt</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i> The Governess Affair </i>by Courtney Milan</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i> </i></span><br />
<i><br /></i></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-63098197714821769562012-06-07T21:41:00.001-04:002012-06-10T10:26:37.133-04:00Get the DIRT: June 7, 2012<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKtEHod-ZQmj_BSv3Rwkov3GQWYsW_HSsW4DM0ZZmGIrPFdju053o8ZwlD-_PMFm5jopwqASQWYiHy7IEhe4ofRE7uRdPaJgjwSTcAwFQ05SCv_ORw1SxJOQAdJBWiLahO2Y-OCi3EnsY/s1600/garden+trowel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKtEHod-ZQmj_BSv3Rwkov3GQWYsW_HSsW4DM0ZZmGIrPFdju053o8ZwlD-_PMFm5jopwqASQWYiHy7IEhe4ofRE7uRdPaJgjwSTcAwFQ05SCv_ORw1SxJOQAdJBWiLahO2Y-OCi3EnsY/s200/garden+trowel.JPG" width="132" /></a></div>
It's another <span style="font-size: large;"><u>D</u></span>o <span style="font-size: large;"><u>I</u></span>t <span style="font-size: large;"><u>R</u></span>ight <span style="font-size: large;"><u>T</u></span>hursday!<br />
<br />
I've been digging around for informative and fun sites and resources. Hope you find these links helpful! :)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bksp.org/">Backspace</a><br />
Writer's community. Articles and resources are available to all.<br />
Exclusive to members ($40/year membership) is a discussion forum, critique section, short story contests, video library,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.writedirections.com/">WriteDirections</a><br />
Another website I stumbled upon, this one run by writer Beth Mende Conny, which offers articles and resources for writers. Includes articles focusing on the writing process with practical tips as well as some articles categorized as "Inspiration," which might be just the thing to help you through a moment of writer's block. :)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.wakeupwriting.com/">Wake Up Writing</a><br />
Daily writing prompts. Although the site hasn't been updated since April, archives go back to 2002, so there are bound to be prompts that inspire you.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/">Editorrent</a><br />
Very popular, so you may already know this one. If not, definitely check it out for all kinds of info from the mechanics of writing to pitching your novel.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.factbites.com/">Factbites</a><br />
I haven't tested this one too thoroughly yet, but it seems a valid gateway to legitimate resources. Could be helpful when doing novel research.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/snowflake.php">"The Snowflake Method"</a><br />
I've been looking into how to create effective outlines, since I haven't really tried using one since my college days. Here, author Randy Ingermanson presents an interesting approach to organizing and outlining a novel.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/there-are-no-rules/how-to-outline-the-easy-way-like-janet-evanovich">"How to Outline (The Easy Way) Like Janet Evanovich"</a><br />
From Writer's Knowledge Base, another approach: Writer's Digest explains author Evanovich's outline process, complete with storyboard example.<br />
<br />
That's it for this week, but please feel free to add any helpful links you may have in the comments.<br />
<br />
And be sure to stop by this weekend -- I'll have a new book review up as well as another installment of Biff and Mary. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://freedigitalphotos.net/">freedigitalphotos.net</a></i><br />
<i><br /></i>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-73478841462655309602012-06-02T22:54:00.005-04:002012-06-16T08:50:53.995-04:00Biff and Mary: Chapter Eleven<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTRCU_TEI7JWibS3_UudxRh7SVYCkEQtmMdIlJ8VkP_ofwzXf7PFOp8C93a0XrwJZTAHc5AeI5lBccA8fgrF4Acll4ceVFa30omykQMmDCYjG7f9jQaDGH4BW8vJI7VvaGtNeQphOz4aH/s1600/two+hearts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTRCU_TEI7JWibS3_UudxRh7SVYCkEQtmMdIlJ8VkP_ofwzXf7PFOp8C93a0XrwJZTAHc5AeI5lBccA8fgrF4Acll4ceVFa30omykQMmDCYjG7f9jQaDGH4BW8vJI7VvaGtNeQphOz4aH/s200/two+hearts.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Welcome to the next chapter of Biff and Mary! </span></span></h2>
<h2>
<i style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;"><b>(please click <a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/p/amorous-adventures-of-biff-and-mary.html">here</a> for all previous chapters)</b></i></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Today's installment will include our usual shallow-but-lovable characters, extraneous description, and unnecessary and unfortunate alliteration. It will also serve as an example of an ill-advised authorial decision to build an entire chapter out of one very brief moment -- but hopefully with a bit of humor as well. ;)</span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Hope you enjoy! </span></span></h2>
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<u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Chapter
Eleven: In Which There Are Screams, Stumbles, and Stubbornly Stuck Posteriors<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">It occurred
to Mary that she had never heard quite such an exceedingly high-pitched tone emanate from
Biff’s roguishly handsome lips before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">The sound
that escaped her beloved as Poopsie’s perfectly white, perfectly sharp canines
punctured the pad of his thumb reminded her briefly of the piercingly shrill
sounds of the first grade playground at Mayfield Elementary, when she and the
other six-year-old girls made a game of trying to shriek as loudly as they
could. She’d won most of those squealing contests, she recalled, but hearing
Biff now she wondered whether she’d overestimated her own elocutionary talents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">As the
sound of Biff’s involuntary scream faded, Mary shook herself out of her shock
and dismay enough to stumble two steps backward with her suddenly ferocious
pup. Regrettably, one of her many unpacked boxes sat approximately one and one
half steps behind her and thus the result of her movement caused her to fall
unceremoniously backward, and her backside wedged firmly inside the now-broken
top of the box, cushioned by the various sheets, towels and fripperies within.
She had barely a moment to be grateful that she’d landed in the linens box,
rather than the one containing her grandmother’s crystal, before Poopsie darted
from her arms. Mary let out her own
startled scream, immediately realizing that it didn’t even come close to the
high pitch and duration of Biff’s, but deciding that perhaps it didn’t matter,
considering her precious pup’s peril and the precariously perched position of
her posterior.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">What did
matter, she soon realized, was that the moment she tripped, Biff intuitively
moved toward her to attempt to break her fall, and Poopsie elected to continue
her proactive efforts to protect Mary from the intruder by charging toward
Biff’s feet with a ferocious and determined little snarl, clamping onto the hem
of his fashionably expensive relaxed vintage blue jeans from Banana Republic</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">. Much
to Mary’s chagrin, Biff instinctively shook her off, and her little Poopsie
took flight across the misty green ceramic tiled</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">foyer floor, spinning around in a blur of pastel pink
fluff until she came to a stop in the corner by the door, her landing cushioned by the
small pile of newspapers Mary had placed there prior to taking them out to the
recycling bin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">The brief, sudden
silence that ensued was broken by all three of them simultaneously, with
Poopsie’s yelp of surprise overshadowed at once by Biff’s horrified exclamation
of “Good Heavens! Is she all right?” and Mary’s equally horrified shriek of
“<i>Poopsie</i>! My <i>baby</i>!” </span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Hastily dropping
Mary’s hand, Biff started toward the stunned dog, inadvertently dumping Mary
back into the box of linens, where her bottom settled more firmly in amongst the
pale yellow 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and plush towels. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Biff
stopped in his tracks, however, apparently thinking better of once again approaching
the protective pup. He glanced back at Mary, who had by then managed to tip the
box onto its side and was clumsily trying to scramble out, arms waving wildly, her
plum-colored pedal pusher clad legs scissoring swiftly as her two and one-half-inch
cork heels struggled to find purchase on the tiled floor. Biff glanced at the little</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">pink dog, then back to pink-faced Mary,
then the dog, finally settling on Mary and hurrying back to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Once Biff
had freed her from the box, Mary silently collected a decidedly more sedate
Poopsie from the corner and brought her through the house to the back door. She
settled her out in the fenced-in yard with several toys, bones and murmured
endearments before turning back to her beloved, bitten Biff with concern and
apologies.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“No, Mary,
it was my fault. I never thought…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“It’s all
right Biff. I assure you, she has never…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I hope I
didn’t hurt the poor little…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“No,
no…she’s okay, it’s just she’s so light, barely weighs anything really, and she
just hasn’t been eating well lately…maybe that’s why she’s so out of sorts…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I’m so
relieved I didn’t hurt her – “<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Oh, Biff!”
Mary interrupted, suddenly burying her face in her perfectly manicured hands as
she burst into tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Biff’s
mouth dropped open, shocked and stymied by this new turn in an already
tumultuous course of unanticipated and disconcerting events.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Mary…?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary wiped
at her eyes with one of the Bounty lunch napkins from the pile she’d gathered
to dab at Biff’s pierced thumb, hiccuping as she tried to control her emotions.
The realization that her morning makeup application was likely completely
ruined by now did nothing to improve her current outlook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“I just…I
was <i>so</i> looking forward to having you
here, letting you meet my precious Poopsie at last, and I just <i>knew</i> the two of you would <i>love</i> each other, and now it’s all…it’s
all just…just <i>ruined</i>!” She drew in a shaky, hiccuping breath, and
then his arms were around her and thoughts of Poopsie fled her mind in a flash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">“Hush,
darling,” Biff murmured into her hair. “Nothing is ruined…well, perhaps my jeans
are rather tattered at the moment, as well as Manuel's rush manicure from earlier
this morning…though it’s just one digit, I suppose…but still, I wouldn’t say
that anything is so terribly ruined…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Mary
hiccuped again, but reveled nonetheless in the warm, masculine embrace of her
beau, who smelled appropriately musky and citrusy and woodsy from his Burberry Sport
cologne, which suited him perfectly, of course. Mary inhaled and sighed loudly,
the sort of sigh one sighs when basking in the love of a good, manly-smelling
man, and tilted her head back just enough to gaze lovingly into his eyes,
pointedly ignoring the remains of the blemish, visible due to the recent
smudging of the </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Revlon Cover-It-Up Concealer in Light/Medium
that he’d applied this morning. She closed her eyes and felt his warm,
minty-fresh Scope breath just before his lips met hers…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">…to be
continued…<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Will Biff
and Mary’s romantic moment prevail, or will their comedy of errors continue?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Will Poopsie
persist in her petulance?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Will boxes
be unpacked and satchels opened?</span></i><br />
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Tune in next time! :)</span></i><br />
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></i><br />
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></i><br />
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">Image courtesy of <a href="http://freedigitalphotos.net./">freedigitalphotos.net.</a></span></i></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-59432439586276255852012-05-31T21:27:00.002-04:002012-06-02T08:33:59.817-04:00Get the DIRT: May 31, 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uNzWiVw7ATM/T8gXvhOiFTI/AAAAAAAAAM8/oE-ub50JvWo/s1600/dirt+shovel+watercan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uNzWiVw7ATM/T8gXvhOiFTI/AAAAAAAAAM8/oE-ub50JvWo/s200/dirt+shovel+watercan.JPG" width="132" /></a></div>
Welcome to another<span style="font-size: large;"> D</span>o<span style="color: red;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I</span>t <span style="font-size: large;">R</span>ight <span style="font-size: large;">T</span>hursday!<br />
<br />
<i>((**By the way, for those who are interested, a new <a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/p/amorous-adventures-of-biff-and-mary.html">Biff and Mary</a> chapter will be up in the next couple of days, so stay tuned!**))</i><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
Today, I have a mix of both writing-related and just-for-fun links.<br />
<br />
Please feel free to share your own links in the comments as well.<br />
Enjoy! :)<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Literary agent <a href="http://www.rachellegardner.com/">Rachelle Gardner</a>'s site has been bookmarked on my laptop for quite a while now. She offers tons of advice about publishing, finding an agent, marketing your book and much more. Frequent guest bloggers with great advice, too. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><a href="http://www.whatshouldireadnext.com/">What Should I Read Next?</a> This is a fun site to try out. Just type in the name of a book or author you like and it generates suggestions for other books you may enjoy. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I haven't looked over this one thoroughly yet, but it seems an interesting idea. Their tagline is: "Writing Community for Writers, Readers, Literary Agents. Submit Works, Read & Rate Writing."<a href="http://www.webook.com/">Webook</a>, where writers submit pages for critique and ratings, and are subsequently elevated through "rounds." They have writing challenges and literary agent input. Does anyone have any experience with this? If so, did you find it helpful?</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Colleen Lindsay's site, <i>The Swivet</i>, offers lots of worthwhile stuff and though this particular post is a couple of years old, it still acts as a great <a href="http://theswivet.blogspot.com/2008/03/on-word-counts-and-novel-length.html">guide to word counts</a> for novels.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>I always have a hard time finding photos or clipart that I can be sure of using freely, but I've found a good resource in <a href="http://freedigitalphotos.net./">freedigitalphotos.net.</a> You can purchase the photos, but for most purposes they allow you to use them in return for a same-page link wherever the pictures are posted. I've been using them here as well as on my <a href="http://www.thepracticalpen.com/">Practical Pen</a> site.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Regrettably, I have completely forgotten where I first saw this site recommended or I would credit accordingly, but do check out <a href="http://www.sporcle.com/games/">Sporcle</a> for quick, often challenging trivia and word games. Each game is only a few minutes long, so you don't need to feel guilty about "wasting time." ;)</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Maybe it's because it seems so rare these days, but I really love hearing about people and organizations who go out of their way to just do something nice, don't you? I know that this one has been linked to in many places, but if you missed it, be sure to check out this story: <a href="http://tumblr.thedailywh.at/post/23676495814/heartwarming-tearjerker-of-the-day-four-year-old">"Blue Ear": Marvel Comics does a good thing...</a> </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>And I included the next one because...well, just because. Trust me - it's fun! :)</li>
</ul>
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/89GjGq08x5A" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Happy Almost-Friday!<br />
Be sure to drop by this weekend to check out a new chapter of <i>Biff and Mary</i>!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Photo courtesy of <a href="http://freedigitalphotos.net/">freedigitalphotos.net</a></i><br />
<br />Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-41441624295205828702012-05-24T18:50:00.002-04:002012-05-29T07:13:00.445-04:00Get the DIRT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a0Nsr0X4tuA/T766PLwlWPI/AAAAAAAAAMU/rtF0FO2I1Gg/s1600/dirt+and+shovel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a0Nsr0X4tuA/T766PLwlWPI/AAAAAAAAAMU/rtF0FO2I1Gg/s200/dirt+and+shovel.JPG" width="132" /></a></div>
Welcome to D.I.R.T!<br />
Or..<span style="color: #cc0000;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><u>D</u></span>o<span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span></b><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><u><b>I</b></u></span><b>t </b><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><u>R</u></span>ight </b><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><u>T</u></span>hursday</b>! :)<br />
<br />
In my never-ending search for information about writing, editing, publishing, etc., I come across many helpful sites, so I've decided to share a few links that might help all of us "Do It Right"....or at least, learn how to do all this writing stuff <i>better</i>. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://pred-ed.com/pubwarn.htm">Preditors & Editors</a> and <a href="http://absolutewrite.com/forums/index.php">Absolute Write</a> are among the most well-respected sources of information re: writing and publishing scams. Be sure to check in with these sites before proceeding with any independent publisher or writing-related service. Both also provide many more helpful links.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://misssnarksfirstvictim.blogspot.com/">Miss Snark's First Victim</a> is a great site to visit for information about querying. The blog owner, "Authoress," also holds periodic "Secret Agent" contests, where manuscript samples can be submitted and often critiqued/viewed by agents.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://queryshark.blogspot.com/">Query Shark</a> is another informative site focusing on writing your query.<br />
<br />
Pick up some really useful tips with <a href="http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/">Grammar Girl: Quick and Dirty Tips</a><br />
<br />
If, like me, you've found it a little challenging to pull together a resume that showcases your writing rather than your "day jobs," <a href="http://writingspark.com/2010/01/08/creating-a-freelance-writers-resume/">Creating a Freelance Writer's Resume</a> is a nice article with some tips on putting together a resume with an emphasis on writing skills.<br />
<br />
The <a href="http://www.the-efa.org/res/resources.php">EFA / Editorial Freelancers Association</a> is a great resource to check out when you are looking for a proofreader or editor or, like me, are embarking on your own editorial venture. A rate chart is provided which offers a range of rates for editorial work and can help you know what to expect when you search for your own proofreader or editor. Lots of other interesting and helpful info, too.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/">Writer's Digest</a> has lots of great articles and interviews. A "must visit" for any writer or aspiring writer.<br />
<br />
<br />
Well, there are a few to get us started. Hope these links are helpful to you! <br />
<br />
Do you know of any great writing-related sites? Feel free to share in the comment section.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.savvyauthors.com/vb/content.php">Savvy Authors</a> - thank you to <i>nightsmusic</i> for this addition to the list. A great writers-helping-writers site with endless information. Definitely worth a look!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><i> Image courtesy of www.FreeDigitalPhotos.net</i></span>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-75324613698946035722012-05-18T19:47:00.001-04:002012-05-20T10:09:04.044-04:00Book Review: Getting Married and Other Mistakes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGYA3hWmKUZxdsrV7yhq-BszRLd-wgUJfIY21Dt8wtputUq3MlOIlXBWVQ6JpMviJ7_E4NRxCVYBRKoWkPMmvxJHbjJ4TjVQ0WVHV7vUkfJyluBsnL5MoJN-KGGfRAfZWdWVUPmavqebp/s1600/gmcover-200h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGYA3hWmKUZxdsrV7yhq-BszRLd-wgUJfIY21Dt8wtputUq3MlOIlXBWVQ6JpMviJ7_E4NRxCVYBRKoWkPMmvxJHbjJ4TjVQ0WVHV7vUkfJyluBsnL5MoJN-KGGfRAfZWdWVUPmavqebp/s200/gmcover-200h.jpg" width="175" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Title: <b>Getting
Married and Other Mistakes<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Author:
Barbara Slate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Publisher: Other Press<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Pub
Date: June 12, 2012<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">ISBN: 9781590515358<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">It
can be argued that those who can retain a sense of humor in the face of heartbreak
and disillusionment get through it better than most, and Barbara Slate
demonstrates just that in her graphic novel, <i>Getting Married and Other Mistakes.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Slate’s
book is filled with moments many women will be able to identify with. Her protagonist, Jo, is devastated
when her marriage suddenly disintegrates, and somewhat surprised that her
ensuing depression doesn’t seem to have anything to do with missing her
soon-to-be ex-husband. What follows is
an affecting journey of self-discovery in which she tries to face herself
honestly and find her true voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">The
dissolution of her marriage leaves Jo with plenty of time for introspection,
and she uses it well. Looking back over her life, she soon discerns a pattern
of self-repression, much of which can be traced straight back to her manipulative
mother whose primary goal for her daughter was landing the right man. Jo
wonders, “Did I get married to make my mother happy?..to make her proud?...to
finally shut her up?” These questions lead to many more, and eventually send Jo
on a search for her own voice, which she had learned to ignore for so long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Remembering
one of her first disappointments involving a man in her life, Jo recalls the intense hurt, but also remembers how she instinctively
downplayed her feelings, even with her best friend: “I knew if I ever showed
them, then I could never take them back. I would be fully exposed…my naked
self…out there for the universe to gobble up.” </span><span style="font-family: Candara;">In
this respect, Jo is very much </span><i style="font-family: Candara;">us (</i><span style="font-family: Candara;">haven't we all had moments where we've held back our true feelings, pasted on a smile, and pretended that whatever we were crushed by doesn't really matter at all?</span><i style="font-family: Candara;">),</i><span style="font-family: Candara;"> and
Barbara Slate has created a character that readers will almost instantly
identify with and root for.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Slate’s
effective prose is enhanced by her illustrations, which are primarily bright
and vibrant with the exception of those panels depicting Jo’s memories, which
are rendered in grays and whites with an occasional splash of red. The device
could have been too obvious, but here it works, with the stark grays serving to emphasize the
loneliness in Jo’s memories and the poor decisions she made in the name of
“being a good girl,” even as the bright splashes of color in the panels highlight her spark of life that survived it
all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">While
the subject matter in <i>Getting Married and
Other Mistakes</i> may be a rather sober one, Slate’s humor shines through in
every panel, softening the edges of what might otherwise seem bleak and
depressing through her own witty voice and apparent ability to see the
proverbial silver linings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Graphic
novelist Slate’s list of credits is truly too large and impressive to fully list
here. She’s created cartoons and illustrations for Mattel, DC Comics, <i>Cosmopolitan</i> magazine and more, she’s
authored a book called <i>You Can Do A
Graphic Novel</i> which, along with a companion Teacher Guide, is used to teach
teens how to create their own graphic novels, and she also lectures and teaches
workshops.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;">Find
out more about her here: </span><a href="http://www.barbaraslate.com/">http://www.barbaraslate.com/</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Candara;">Getting Married and Other Mistakes</span></i><span style="font-family: Candara;"> is both witty and poignant, and those who
mistakenly pass it by on the assumption that graphic novel = comic book will be
missing out on a great and often illuminating reading experience. Highly recommended.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Candara;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Review copy provided by Other Press, via NetGalley</span></i></span></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-64819747921521897912012-05-18T09:38:00.003-04:002013-01-21T15:25:43.916-05:00Casual Friday<h3>
To get a head start on a (hopefully!) relaxing weekend, here are some links and videos, just for fun. Enjoy!</h3>
<br />
~ Check out these <a href="http://flavorwire.com/277657/10-crazy-and-unusual-book-designs?all=1">crazy and unusual book designs</a>. Amazingly creative ways to multi-purpose a book.<br />
<br />
~ There is such a thing as a little too much persistence...you go, girl! <a href="http://youtu.be/rNARapLf2iM">An Impossible Love</a><br />
<br />
~ Now, here's something you don't see every day. Puppies from Heaven...<br />
<br />
~ Hysterical. I dare you not to laugh! :) <a href="http://youtu.be/jdHtwK4HMVs">Best of Funny Talking Animals</a><br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
~ Love this kid's voice. The original is a lot of fun, but this is so different it's amazing and I think I like it better!</div>
<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/vsvlsuLau5c?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Have a wonderful weekend!</div>
<br />Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-61866628446642329812012-05-16T09:38:00.002-04:002012-05-20T10:09:29.875-04:00Biff and Mary: Chapters 9 and 10<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Welcome back for another
installment of Biff and Mary!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sorry for the delay in posting new chapters...</span></b><br />
<b><span style="background-color: #ffe599; font-family: Georgia;">For those who want to start from the beginning, click the "Biff and Mary" tab above, or here: <a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/p/amorous-adventures-of-biff-and-mary.html">Biff and Mary</a></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As usual, within this next chapter we will be treated to our beloved
TSTL heroine’s every vapid thought, Biff’s general buff-ness, and excessive
description of every little thing. You
may also notice some really poor transitioning, run-on sentences and
unfortunate alliteration. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Enjoy! </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></b><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Chapter 9: In Which Brunch is Served and Boxes are Contemplated<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When we last left our lovebirds,
Biff was professing his affection for Mary over a table at Bart’s Bistro, leaning
toward her with obvious intent…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">A
pale, freckled arm with four silver bracelets clanking at the wrist unceremoniously
inserted itself between Biff and Mary, placing a basket of rolls and butter between
them and causing Biff to settle back into his seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mary
swallowed back her disappointment as well as her annoyance at the timing of the
wrist’s owner, their server Lorraine. She smiled at her politely instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Your
salads’ll be right up,” Lorraine announced, spinning quickly on her heel to head
back toward the kitchen, the damage done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Biff
cleared his throat politely and reached for the basket, holding it out to
Mary. She declined and smiled at him
winningly, wondering how to recapture that romantic moment so suddenly and sadly
interrupted. She stole another glance at Biff, studiously setting her gaze
below his blemished brow in order to fully appreciate the view, then sighed
with resignation, unrolled her beige linen napkin and set it on her lap in preparation
for her Caesar Salad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The
following morning, Mary woke early and went immediately to the shower to
prepare for her unpacking day with her beloved beau, Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">She
washed her hair with Paul Mitchell Extra Body Daily Shampoo, followed by Paul
Mitchell Extra Body Daily Rinse, and sudsed up her loofah with Origins Fresh
Waterlily Bodybar, then washed and shaved with her Daisy razor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Once
finished in the shower, she was toweling off leisurely when she heard a tiny
yelp from outside the bathroom door.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Poopsie!”
she exclaimed, grabbing a plush terrycloth robe from the back of the door
before opening it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Oh,
Poopsie, I’m sorry!” she said, reaching down to scoop the pup into her arms. “I
forgot all about taking you out for your morning constitutional!” She shuffled down the hall, skirting around
boxes, all the way through to the back door.
She stepped outside and set Poopsie down on the long grass. The pouty Pomeranian stared up at her
sullenly before shaking her mass of fur – tinted a pretty, powdery pink at
Paulette’s Pampered Pooch Emporium on the corner of Pearl and Pickwick – and
stalking toward the backyard azaleas, her tail curled high over her backside and
the glittered, hot pink nails on her paws sparkling in the sunshine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Oh,
Poopsie, don’t be like that,” Mary implored, nervously touching her damp hair.
If she didn’t style it soon, who knew if she’d be ready when Biff arrived? She
certainly wasn’t willing to let him see her undone! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“I’m
sorry I forgot you this morning, sweetiekins.
I’m just so excited about Biff coming here today!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The
Pomeranian pointedly ignored her, clearly humiliated at the need to beg for
such a basic necessity, as if she were a <i>common</i>
dog!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As
Mary cooed endearments from the back door, Poopsie continued to snub her defiantly,
then finished her business behind the flowering bush and sauntered slowly
toward Mary, stopping every few steps to sniff at a dandelion or bug, ignoring
her owner’s encouragement to hurry.
Finally, she wandered close enough to be scooped up in Mary’s arms and
brought back inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mary
shut the door and pulled the tab top to open a can of Chef Michael’s Pork Tenderloin
Flavor Pate. She took a stainless steel spoon from a box on the charcoal-gray granite counter
and scooped the food into Poopsie’s hot pink, personalized ceramic bowl, then
set it on the velvet placemat in the corner of the kitchen. Poopsie watched her sedately from her seat on
the purple and yellow kitchen rug, then got up and went to the bowl, sniffing
it delicately before reaching out a tiny pink tongue to taste it. She licked
twice, then promptly turned her nose up and regally exited the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Poopsie,
you <i>have</i> to eat, sweetie!” Mary
called to her, following her into the living room. Poopsie was turning in small circles on her
plush purple pillow in the corner by the fireplace, finally settling down and
resting her chin on pink-nailed paws, gazing off at some far more interesting point
beyond Mary’s shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mary
sighed, “you really are mad at me aren’t you?”
Poopsie closed her eyes, clearly bored by the events.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mary
shook her head, then headed back toward the master bath. She knew she needed to
make it up to her precious Poopsie, but she simply couldn’t wait any longer, or
Biff would see her with wet hair and without her makeup, an unimaginable
faux-pas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Chapter Ten: In Which Biff Encounters a Cranky Canine<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The
doorbell rang thirty-one minutes later, and Mary rushed down the hall to answer
the door. She hadn’t been quite sure
what to wear for the dreaded unpacking of boxes, which was something she had
certainly expected others to offer to do for her, but if it was what she needed
to do to show Biff what a perfectly capable woman she was, she’d do it! Thus, she’d dressed casually, in a pair of plum-colored
pedal pushers, with white cotton blouse with delicate cap sleeves and a pair of
two-and-one-half-inch-cork-heeled sandals from which her purple pedicured toes peeked. Amethyst earrings and a matching necklace and
bracelet completed her ensemble – perfect, she thought, for a casual day
doing….something…with all the boxes. And
Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Mary
opened the door to find her beloved Biff standing on her new Welcome mat, which
she’d purchased just yesterday at The Home Depot for the advertised low-low
price of $17.99, plus tax. Biff smiled
roguishly, as he was wont to do, and Mary melted where she stood on the misty green ceramic tiled foyer floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He’d
chosen a pair of relaxed vintage blue jeans from Banana Republic, paired with a
pique polo in Navy Star blue with its collar turned up, which set off his
dreamy blue eyes and bright smile. He
wore a 1-3/4 inch brown leather belt with distressed metal buckle and brown
suede oxford shoes. He carried a small brown leather satchel in the same shade
as his belt and shoes, along with the key ring that held the keys to his prized
Prius as well as a key to his front door, back door, entry gate, and safety deposit
box.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Good
morning, Mary,” he said, giving his head a handsome little flip which set his </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia;">sun-kissed blond with approximately 23 darker streaks hair drifting
upwards for a moment before it settled with a dashing air slightly over the outer
third of his left eyebrow. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Good
morning, Biff,” Mary breathed, momentarily mesmerized by the magnificent
manliness before her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“You
are looking lovely today, as always,” Biff said. “Er…may I come in?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Oh!”
Mary snapped out of her love-induced-daze and stepped back, waving vaguely toward
the interior of the house. “Yes, of course!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Biff
stepped inside just as a low growl emanated from the living room doorway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Poopsie’s
powder pink head peeked around the corner, and she started barking ferociously, the pastel pink polka-dot bow on her head bobbing dangerously to the left as the force of
her efforts lifted all four paws from the floor repeatedly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“Poopsie!
Is that any way to greet our guest?” Mary chastised as she reached down to
scoop up the pup. “This is Biff, Poopsie.
Biff, this is my precious Poopsie!”
She grasped Poopsie’s pink-tipped paw in her hand and waved at Biff with
it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Biff’s
smile widened and he stepped closer, reaching his hand out palm-up toward
Poopsie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">“So,
this is the lovely Poopsie I’ve heard so much about!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As
his hand drifted ever closer, the left side of Poopsie’s mouth lifted ever
higher, exposing tiny, well-brushed, sharp canines. She growled deeply then lunged toward Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>(to
be continued)</b></span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Will Poopsie puncture
Biff’s perfect palm?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">What’s in Biff’s
satchel?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Will Mary and Biff
battle boxes without wrinkling their well-pressed ensembles?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tune in next time! </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-69861484662279423922012-05-13T10:01:00.001-04:002012-05-13T10:54:51.199-04:00Happy Mother's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiwCfZ1jFo0aa7RJg-vdHGh0u0Ukz6rm07siw8STdt7oHwHeYM8LxrYQI8DEP-hpO_2cYF1QbUHgrxLO3B-uDtsJJRQofZNEsO9BLXQ6rn1MITzJsIMU276fFvZOjE6ZvS8NbnHC4bB4g8/s1600/ID-10024725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiwCfZ1jFo0aa7RJg-vdHGh0u0Ukz6rm07siw8STdt7oHwHeYM8LxrYQI8DEP-hpO_2cYF1QbUHgrxLO3B-uDtsJJRQofZNEsO9BLXQ6rn1MITzJsIMU276fFvZOjE6ZvS8NbnHC4bB4g8/s200/ID-10024725.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><i>“A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.”</i></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>~ Washington Irving</i></span></div>
<br />
<i><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-large;">Happy Mother's Day!</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image courtesy of <a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=1733" target="_blank">freedigitalphotos</a></span></i>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-6764625916497353872012-05-05T17:33:00.001-04:002012-05-05T23:05:10.241-04:00Another Adventure Begins...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXupLQPdOsywe-2fiiVHGNZ2f_dQZUFZEpcVmKeDwfY05DX83oEwWLU1gZ9zylqXmXrG6bss3KSA0LgIvg7VuX_glGPuTddILbyz7vSzrsuSXN4RoyJAwoxPZmG2RWqpLdbUBmKSafReb/s1600/ID-10016206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXupLQPdOsywe-2fiiVHGNZ2f_dQZUFZEpcVmKeDwfY05DX83oEwWLU1gZ9zylqXmXrG6bss3KSA0LgIvg7VuX_glGPuTddILbyz7vSzrsuSXN4RoyJAwoxPZmG2RWqpLdbUBmKSafReb/s200/ID-10016206.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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Have a great weekend! :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Image courtesy of <a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=989" target="_blank">freedigitalphotos.net</a></i>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-17307958232261183462012-04-27T19:21:00.001-04:002012-04-29T16:15:51.077-04:00Biff and Mary: Chapter 8<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Welcome back for more
Biff and Mary!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Hope this chapter
provides an amusing start to your weekend! </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">(For those who'd like to read from the beginning, click the "Biff and Mary" tab above, or click <a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/p/amorous-adventures-of-biff-and-mary.html" target="_blank">here</a> )</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">We last left our effusively
extravagant and extremely obtuse protagonists at the proverbial cliff’s edge, as Mary –
basking in the relief of a Hurricane finally named Bruce – awaits the rest of Biff’s
question…<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Chapter 8: In Which Mary and Biff
Converse on Very Important Subjects<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Mary
felt her heart stop. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">It started beating
again almost instantly, to her great relief, but before that happened it felt
as though it had stopped and dropped directly into her stomach. Her memories of fourth-grade basic human anatomy
studies assured her that this was more than likely not possible, but still it
felt that way, and filled her mind momentarily with a curious vision of her
heart sharing space next to her forthcoming Caesar Salad and Tiramisu, sloshing around with
espresso and mineral water and a dollop of whipped cream, but happily this disturbing image vanished quickly
as the reality of Biff’s intriguing words sank into her brain (which luckily
hadn’t dropped anywhere, as yet. As far as she knew.).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Mary?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Biff’s
voice broke into her anatomical meanderings and she shook her head to clear it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Uh,
yes, Biff. What was it that you wanted
to ask me?” she said, as calmly as she could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Could this be IT</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">? she wondered. Could this be the moment she had dreamed of
since she’d played with her Barbie and Ken dolls and their Town House, Camper
and sporty convertible of undetermined make and model so long ago? Could Biff
be asking her THE question? She glanced
down at her nails, vaguely wishing she’d chosen a different color at the salon,
because the plum color simply wouldn’t set off the shining grandeur of a…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Her
thoughts cut off abruptly once more as Biff cleared his throat nervously,
looking uncharacteristically lacking in confidence as he shifted his gaze to
the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Well,
I wanted to ask you if…er…that is, if you would consider….”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Yes??”</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Biff
looked at her, the corner of his mouth turned up sheepishly, yet rakishly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Would
you consider…well, would you mind telling me if the concealer I used on that
devilish blemish is the right shade for my complexion?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Mary’s
heart dropped. Again. Only this time, it
didn’t travel all the way to her stomach, but rather lodged somewhere at the
base of her throat, or seemed to, although the aforementioned anatomy lessons
would also preclude such a reality. It
stayed there, however, and Mary swallowed past it, attempting to quell the
rising shade of pink that had rushed to her cheeks as she realized her beloved
Biff’s question had not, in fact, been the one she’d hoped for...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Mary
sighed softly, almost soft enough so that Biff wouldn’t hear her, and firmly
reminded herself that it was still early in the dawn of their love…. After all,
they’d only been dating for one-hundred-eighty-two-and-approximately-one-third
days. She had lived two towns over up
until three months ago, but moved here to Loversville mostly to be closer to Biff,
who she knew was her fated love who was destined to sweep her off her feet at just the right moment, and also because before she moved to town, she
somehow managed to get lost nearly every time she drove out to see him. No matter which way she turned, all she ever
heard from her GPS was “Recalculating…recalculating….turn
ri….recalculating…bear lef…recalculating…”
She couldn’t imagine what was wrong, and had switched from the Garmin
Nuvi GPS to a new TomTom, but the issue persisted…she finally decided to find a
home that was only a few miles from her beloved Biff, and one which required no
turns between her house and his.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“If
you’d rather not share your cosmetic secrets, Mary, I certainly understand…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Once
again, Biff’s voice broke into her reverie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Oh,
I’m sorry Biff…I was just thinking about my GPS. Of course I can help!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Mary
pasted a pleasant smile on her face and gazed intently at Biff’s. She gradually steeled herself to look
directly at the blemish, and was relieved to note that it did appear rather
well concealed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Honestly,
Biff, I think you’ve done a wonderful job!
Is that Revlon Cover-me-Up in Fair Maiden Ivory?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Why,
yes, it is!” Biff said proudly. “Well done, Mary!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Mary
batted her eyelashes demurely and smiled a soft smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Do
you think it works well on my skin? On the tone, I mean?” Biff asked. “I wasn’t sure…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Yes,
I do. A perfect choice, Biff!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Wonderful! Thank you for looking at it…I’m sure it
wasn’t a pleasant ordeal for you…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Biff,
you know that I’d do anything for you,” Mary said sincerely, batting her
eyelashes a quarter time more quickly than usual, in emphasis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Biff’s
eyes widened suddenly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“I
almost forgot! What was it you said earlier, about needing help with boxes?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Oh,
yes,” Mary said. She was glad she had finally mentioned it to him. Though she’d
been in town a few months, she had not yet had Biff to her own home, so
determined was she to master the driving route to his house. It seemed that even straight routes came with an occasional challenge...Considering her disappointment in the lack of neighborly assistance, she’d have to impose on
Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“I
was hoping that perhaps you could come by tomorrow and help me to open the
boxes and put things away, if you have time…I know you have your weekly mani-pedi at Manuel's Mani's on Saturdays, and the tennis lesson as well, so…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Of
course I will, Mary!” Biff told her with a smile. “In fact, I am sure that I
could skip just one mani-pedi…or maybe reschedule it for later in the day…Manuel is very accommodating.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Thank
you so much!” Mary said enthusiastically, then frowned as a thought occurred to
her. “But Biff, I’m not at all sure what we need to do to prepare for such
things…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Biff’s
brows drew down as well. In fact, it
appeared that Biff was baffled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“Hmmm….well,
I suppose I could ask Tony. He’s our estate handyman, and seems to know about
tools and work-type things and such. I’m sure he could advise
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">“That
would be wonderful Biff!” Mary enthused. “I knew that I could count on you to
figure this out. You can do <i>anything</i>!” She batted her eyes again, attempting to add a loving look to the enthusiastic blinking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Biff
smiled brightly, briefly causing Mary to wonder if the Rembrandt Whitening
System he used was actually more effective than her Crest White Strips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia;">Biff
leaned across the table, gazing lovingly into her eyes. “Mary, it’s all you,
you know. <i>You </i>make me feel I can do
anything. I...I...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #444444;">And
with that, he leaned closer…and closer….and even closer….</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><b>(to
be continued)</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Will Mary change brands
of tooth whitener?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Will Biff’s consultation
with Tony ultimately place a box cutting implement in his well-manicured hands?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Is Biff actually going
to kiss Mary, right there in the middle of brunch at Bart’s Bistro?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tune in next time! </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-29471036548406657332012-04-20T22:10:00.001-04:002012-06-02T22:56:19.459-04:00Biff and Mary: Chapters 6 and 7<b><br /><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For those who'd like to read from the beginning, I've added a separate page which contains the entire story up to this point (check navigation bar, above, or <a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/p/amorous-adventures-of-biff-and-mary.html" target="_blank">click here</a>). I will add to it each time I post an update.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Again, I feel the need to point out that this is merely my own little humorous exercise in "What Not to Do," shared for mutual laughs, and not meant to be considered Serious Writing by any means! ;)</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Welcome back for more Biff and Mary!</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hope you enjoy today's chapters! :)</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<u><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Chapter 6: Wherein Biff Befriends Bitsy<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mary leapt up from her seat as her friend drew
near, drawing her into a warm hug before turning toward Biff, who had risen in
a gentlemanly fashion, as one did when a woman approached one’s table, if one
had been raised right. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Biff, meet Bitsy Buffington, my best friend
from Buffalo!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She turned to Bitsy. “Bitsy, my beau, Biff!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Biff grasped Bitsy’s hand with a firm-but-definitely-not-too-firm
amount of pressure, as was appropriate when a man was introduced to a
woman. “A pleasure, Miss Buffington.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Oh, please call me Bitsy!” she said, “Everyone
does!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bitsy was petite and poised, and enveloped in a
tasteful ensemble consisting of a pink and white pinstriped linen skirt with
four one-inch rose-colored buttons at the side, its hem approximately two and
one-half inches above her knees, topped by a lightweight cashmere sweater set
in Powder Pink, purchased at Prudence’s Practical Petites Boutique in
Poughkeepsie, finished with two-inch heeled matching pumps and tasteful teardrop
pearl earrings. </span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Her hair was red – not
so dark red as to be auburn, nor copper, nor ginger, nor most any other usual
shade of red – no, it was a striking strawberry blonde which perfectly complemented
her cerulean blue eyes and pouty pink lips, rendering her overall loveliness
close but not nearly matching the blonder beauty of the lovely young lady next
to her, Biff thought as he refocused his attention on his own gorgeous gal,
Mary. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Would you care to join us, Bitsy?” Biff asked,
gesturing at the chair next to Mary’s.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly intrude,” Bitsy
demurred. “Besides, I’m afraid I have a previous engagement. Although, I
suppose I could sit for just a moment…if you’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Certainly not,” Biff stated definitively,
pulling her chair out for her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Once seated, the three spent a few minutes
chatting about one another’s lives, their homes, hybrid cars and favorite
styling products.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mary was thrilled to
be able to introduce her bosom buddy Bitsy to her best beau Biff, and spent a
silent moment appreciating them until her attention was suddenly drawn to the
19 inch Samsung Flat Screen TV mounted on the wall above the coffee bar.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The screen displayed a weather map in various
meaningless-to-Mary colors, being pointed to by Kirk
“Just-Call-Me-Cumulonimbus” Kirkland, the chief meteorologist of Channel 10
News.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Biff!” she squeaked in alarm, reaching across
the polished table to grasp his manly forearm.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
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<u><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Chapter 7:
In Which Biff and Mary’s Love is Tested<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Mary?” Biff asked, cut off in mid-sentence as
he’d been describing the environmentally-correct upholstry of his prized Prius
to Bitsy. “Are you all right?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mary nodded toward the television screen, where
Kirk Kirkland was still pointing at the map.
A banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen and Biff and Mary
exchanged an anxious glance as they realized that the moment had come -- Biff’s future could very well be determined in
the next few minutes, as they were about to learn whether or not he would
henceforth share his distinguished moniker with a horrific tropical storm.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As the two lovers grasped one another’s hands
in silent solidarity, Bitsy looked at them in confusion until she followed
their gazes to the screen of the Samsung Flat Screen TV.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“The weather? What…?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But Biff and Mary couldn’t spare a moment to
illuminate the particulars for Bitsy, because right at that very minute Kirk
“Cumulonimbus” Kirkland’s expression changed and his usually-brightly-blinding
smile momentarily disappeared as he pointed at the map, and the scroll at the bottom
declared “The tropical storm being watched for the last twenty-four hours has
been upgraded to…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mary squeezed her eyes shut involuntarily, and
then forced herself to open them. She
had to be strong. She <i>must </i>be strong! She needed to be there for her beloved beau,
Biff, no matter what happened. She knew that their love would see them through
any storm – even one named “Hurricane Biff.”
She looked at the screen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“…but the storm is expected to head back out to
sea, and Hurricane Bruce is unlikely to…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Biff and Mary cheered, startling a number of
patrons at Bart’s Bistro, including their own guest, Bitsy, and they rose from
the table and embraced, then stood together, hands clasped, mutually overcome with
relief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Oh, Biff,” Mary breathed as she gazed up at
him, smiling tremulously.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Mary,” Biff replied, gazing back. “What a relief!
Thank you for standing by me through it all.
It means the world to me to have my best gal by my side!” He kissed her cheek tenderly, right there in
the middle of Bart’s Bistro.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A sigh emanating from their table drew their
attention; it was a heavy sigh, the exact kind that one sighs when one is overcome by the
emotion of seeing two clearly destined lovers displaying public affection to
one another, and it came from Mary’s friend, Bitsy. She reached into her pink
leather Gucci handbag with matching leather tassles and a double-horse-head
clasp, and withdrew a pure white monogrammed handkerchief with one inch lace
stitched all around the edges, and proceeded to dab at the corner of her expressive
cerulean blue eyes, so happy to witness the love her friend had found in her
beau, Biff, and the apparent strength of their union.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Biff and Mary politely returned to their
respective seats and Mary explained the hurricane scare, which of course Bitsy
empathized with, expressing her concern for the extreme amount of stress the
situation must have caused both Biff and Mary.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What with Bitsy’s arrival, the culmination of
the hurricane situation, and her tender moment with Biff, Mary forgot all about
the fly parts on the sill and the necessity of discussing boxes with Biff and
the three of them chatted happily until Bitsy bade them farewell so that she
could meet with her own brunch date, her sister, Mitzi.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alone together once more, Biff and Mary ordered
their meals and gazed happily at one another across the table for approximately
two minutes and fifteen seconds (give or take) until Biff finally broke the
silence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Mary, there is something important I wanted to
ask you…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(to be continued)<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What is Biff’s
important question?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Will whatever he has
to say affect Mary’s enjoyment of her Caesar Salad or Tiramisu?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Will she remember the
fly wing at all?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And will Biff’s
concealer hold through the entire meal?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">Tune in next time! </span></i></span></div>
</div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-4078939598828012112012-04-18T18:36:00.001-04:002012-04-29T16:18:35.357-04:00Biff and Mary, Chapters 4 and 5<h4>
Welcome back for another episode of "The Amorous Adventures of Biff and Mary"!</h4>
<h4>
<i>(Note: As much of this is already written, I will be updating frequently, as time allows, though not on a regular schedule. Please feel free to check back or subscribe for new posts!</i></h4>
<h4>
Need to catch up? Previous chapters:</h4>
<h4>
<a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/2012/04/introducing-biff-and-mary.html" target="_blank">Introducing Biff and Mary</a></h4>
<h4>
<a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/2012/04/biff-and-mary-chapters-2-and-3.html" target="_blank">Biff and Mary, Chapters 2 and 3</a></h4>
<h4>
Hope to bring a smile to your face today! :)</h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-GB">Chapter
4: Mary’s Journey Toward the Bistro Continues…<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">When we last checked in with our devoted and
descriptive duo, poor blemished Biff was preparing for brunch and our
exceptionally ensembled Mary was breathlessly awaiting his response to her
enigmatic statement about unpacking boxes…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Mary
switched her cell phone to her right hand and used her left to push the button
on her door, closing her windows to block out the cacophony of blowing horns
emanating from the Toyota, the Chrysler, the GMC and the Volkswagon, which had
now been joined by a Mustang and a Prius. She was determined to stay right where she was, knowing that her beloved
beau, Biff, deserved her undivided attention and certain that if she had a
moment (or two…or possibly three) to devote to explaining her various dilemmas
to the crowd of motorists behind her, they would surely understand and would
very happily wait until she was ready to drive again. This thought brought about an overall feeling
of solidarity and companionship with her new friends in the post office parking
lot and she spared a moment to look over her shoulder at the line of cars
behind her to offer them her most grateful and dazzling Crest White Strips
smile, perfectly set off by the careful outlining of her lips in Cover Girl
Long Wear Lipstick in Coquettish Coral and finished off with a precisely choreographed wave, flawlessly emulating that of Her Majesty The Queen, who had
waved so beautifully to the crowds of well-wishers at the wedding of her
grandson, Prince William, to the lovely and fashionable Kate Middleton.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Accepting
the increased horn-blowing and various gestures from driver’s side windows as
tribute to her kind acknowledgement of their understanding, Mary turned her attention back to the
Verizon LG Smartphone in her hand, from which emanated the politely delicate
throat-clearing sounds of her beau, Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“…uh,
Mary? Are you still there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Oh,
yes! Of course I am, Biff!” Mary
answered. “I’m sorry; I was a bit
distracted by my new friends for a moment. You were saying….?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Yes. I was
just asking…what boxes?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Oh! Well,
the boxes I moved here with, of course.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Mary, you
moved here five months ago. Haven’t you
finished the unpacking yet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Well…no, I
haven’t, Biff. You see, I was waiting
for my neighbors to gather and come over to welcome me and naturally I thought
that when they did, they would offer to unpack for me and do some yard work and
cleaning and install new kitchen tile and such, but so far I’ve only seen little Lily Littleton whose mother
sent her with a plate of brownies in March…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Okay,”
Biff said. “Why don’t we talk this over at brunch, Mary? I’m sure we can come up with something, but
at the moment my hair is drying without the blow dryer, and I cringe to think…’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Oh! Of
course, Biff!” Mary interrupted, determinedly blocking the vision of Biff with
bedhead <i>and</i> a blemish from her mind.
“You go on, and I’ll see you at Bart’s!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Biff said
goodbye and Mary pressed the disconnect button on her Verizon LG Smartphone and
placed it back into her periwinkle and yellow checked handbag between the Buxton wallet and her makeup bag, being
sure to zip the purse carefully and set it on the seat beside her before turning to offer another bright smile at
her increasing crowd of supporters in the line of cars behind her. She shifted into drive and searched for a
parking spot, overcome by the apparent heartfelt support of the well-wishing
cheers emanating from the vehicles behind her as she drove away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-GB">Chapter
5: Wherein Mary Arrives at the Bistro<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">When Mary
had arrived at Bart’s Bistro, there was no sign of Biff. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">She asked for a table by the window so she
could watch for his arrival and simultaneously avoid the weather reports on the television by the coffee bar, as she still couldn't bear to face the possibility of learning that Biff's future may well be formed by a tropical storm event and its eventual naming, but once she'd been seated she became
distracted by the window itself. The
glass was clear, and the window was tastefully decorated with lovely brocade
curtains in Bart’s signature colors of blue and brown, edged with decorative
satin fringe in ivory, regrettably only machine-stitched rather than hand-sewn but quite nice nonetheless, she thought. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">However, there was a bit of unsightly dust gathered in the
corner of the mahogany-stained window sill as well as what appeared to be a wing part from a
dead fly and Mary shuddered to think of how she could possibly eat her Caesar’s
Salad with Grilled Chicken and a side order of Minestrone soup with one-quarter teaspoon of Parmesan
sprinkled on top if she knew that all along, there was a fly part resting amongst the dust approximately six-and-three-quarter-inches from the edge of her table. Even if
she <i>did</i> manage, she was sure that she’d never be able to enjoy herself enough
to fully appreciate the espresso and homemade tiramisu afterward. Knowing that Bart and his
staff prided themselves on their exquisite taste and cleanliness and certain
that her comfort was surely utmost in the mind of her server, Mary searched the
room to find her and flag her down just at the moment her beau, Biff, walked
through the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">As usual,
Biff’s entrance garnered not a few stares from appreciative women. Tall, lightly tanned and well built from his daily afternoons on the tennis court, he was dressed in
perfectly-pressed navy blue slacks from Nordstrom’s, with a matching jacket and
a pale gray business shirt (Saks), informally unbuttoned at the neck in the most appropriate fashion for a romantic brunch with his girl. Mary was relieved to see that she hadn’t distracted
him too badly from his toilette earlier, as his blonde hair with approximately
twenty-three darker shades streaked throughout was styled and clearly blow-dried to
perfection, as usual. She sighed
appreciatively but not heavily, sighing the kind of sigh one sighs when one
spots the wonderful man who is the love of one’s life, and then
raised her hand slightly to guide him to their table. He spotted her and smiled, and Mary squinted
a bit to try to ascertain the condition of the unsightly blemish but quickly realized
he was still too far away. She tore her gaze away as he approached, glancing shyly down at demurely-clasped hands in her lap, as was expected of a polite and well-appointed young lady of breeding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“So sorry
to keep you waiting, Mary,” Biff said, tossing his head to flip back the
perfectly coiffed forelock that tended to drift with dashing derring-do into his left eye. “Traffic was simply horrendous, my Prius had barely charged, and I was
already running late because I had to re-do my hair.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Oh,
perfectly understandable,” Mary said. “Think nothing of it.” </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">She squinted again as she looked into Biff’s
face and was at first relieved to note that the blemish was not apparent today,
but then began squinting more because she wasn’t sure, but she <i>thought</i> she’d caught the barest glimpse
of residue from what was likely an application of Revlon Cover-It-Up
Concealer in Light/Medium followed by a strategic dusting of matching Revlon Age-Is-Just-A-Number Matte Powder to set it…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Have you
ordered anything?” Biff asked, interrupting her train of thought as he removed
his jacket with his usual grace before folding it carefully and placing it on
the seat next to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“No, I was
waiting for you, of course,” Mary replied. “And I was also thinking about calling the server
over to do something about these unfortunate fly bits here by the…” She gestured toward the windowsill and
glanced out toward the parking area. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">“Wait a minute…is
that…? Yes, I think it is!” she
exclaimed, rising from her seat and peering toward the entrance. “It <i>is</i>
her!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Her, who?”
Biff asked, his brows drawing down in a confused frown that effectively hid the
small portion of his face where the blemish may still, in fact, exist. He twisted slightly in his seat to follow her gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Mary waved
frantically toward the entrance.
“BITSY!!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">(to be
continued)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Who is Bitsy?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Will Mary be able to enjoy brunch in spite of
the insect parts nearby?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Will we learn more about Biff’s talent with
concealer and the possible hurricane
nomenclature?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Stay
tuned! </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-16439744342620425082012-04-16T08:51:00.004-04:002012-04-29T16:19:08.260-04:00Biff and Mary: Chapters 2 and 3<br />
<h4>
Welcome back for more adventures in the shallow-yet-extremely-well-detailed lives of Biff and Mary!</h4>
<div>
(Catch up on previous chapter first: <a href="http://chasingchapters.blogspot.com/2012/04/introducing-biff-and-mary.html" target="_blank">Biff and Mary, Chapter 1</a>)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h4>
Please note: "The Amorous Adventures of Biff and Mary" are written for fun and as an extreme exaggeration of certain tropes and habits in over-thought and overly-descriptive writing. I am in no way serious, nor am I basing any of this on anything or anyone. Just hoping to give you a laugh today! :)</h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-GB">Chapter
2: Wherein Mary Makes Her Way to Her Car and Enters It: </span></u><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
<br />
<i>When we last saw Mary, our blonde heroine in a polyester/cotton blend
periwinkle dress with matching shoes and earrings was contemplating lawn slugs,
dings in her Honda Civic, and the horrific possibility of her beau, Biff, soon
becoming known as Balding Hurricane Biff with a Blighting Blemish...we join her
now, on the front walk, approximately one minute and twelve seconds after we
left her...</i><br />
<br />
Mary turned 142 degrees to her left before proceeding down the sidewalk, which
had several weeds growing in between at least twenty-four of the one hundred and
two bricks of which it was made. As she walked she noticed a bird flying above
her. She squinted in order to discern its type, and found that it was a robin,
though she could not tell whether or not it was male or female. She paused to
consider following the bird, because of course knowing whether or not the bird
she'd glanced at was a male or a female was of the utmost importance today, as
she was due to meet Biff for brunch at Bart's Bistro and if she should decide to relate
the occurrence to Biff, he was sure to want all of the details....She watched
the bird alight and then hop from branch to branch on the large oak tree in the
yard but soon shrugged her slender, periwinkle-clad shoulders and decided that
like her, Biff would likely be too preoccupied with possibility of the
"B" hurricane, as well as the unfortunate blemish between his
perfectly groomed, thick, blonde-but-not-light-brown eyebrows, to want to hear
about the bird of unknown gender at all. A frown, which at this stage in her
hitherto un-Botoxed life consisted of merely three two-inch creases and one 3/4
inch wrinkle near the bridge of her nose, appeared slightly above her sculpted,
light brown-but-not-blond-and-certainly-not-red eyebrows as she momentarily
contemplated the calamities that had befallen both her and her beau Biff in so
short a span of time, what with the blemish, the hurricane, the lawn slugs and
the car ding, all seeming to overwhelm them at once and thus threatening their otherwise
flawless and surely fated love.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
<br />
Mary shook her head slightly in such a way that only a few strands of hair at
her temple was disturbed by her action, and then reached her right hand,
tastefully manicured with plum-colored-polished-nails, toward the chrome handle
of her pearl-painted Honda Civic driver's side door and opened it. She bent at
the knees, then leaned down slightly and sat inside the vehicle, alighting with
right buttock first, followed by its twin, onto the gray leather captain style
driver’s seat. She pulled the slate gray canvas seat belt over her and secured
it, carefully pulling the material of her dress taut, so as not to wrinkle her
ensemble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Mary
reached into her periwinkle and yellow checked handbag, which had two pale
brown leather 12 inch straps for a handle, and unzipped the main compartment,
reaching inside for her keys and brushing against a brown leather wallet (which
contained twenty-two dollars and thirty-one cents, her Visa card, her license
and her library card), and her yellow satin makeup bag (which held her
Maybelline Perfectly Peach blush, Cover Girl Long Wear Lipstick in Coquettish
Coral, and Loreal Luscious Lash Mascara in Bonny Brown), and finally found her
keys, which were on a chain with a 2-inch silver tag inscribed with the phrase
"Life's A Bitch And So Am I" in red letters. She took the car key and
placed it into the slot on the steering column and turned the ignition, all the
while thinking tenderly of her beau, Biff, praying fervently for the rapid
healing of his mottled skin, and hoping that by the time she reached him at
Bart’s Bistro on South Main Street, his handsome face would be miraculously
clear and the hurricane would have already been named Brian...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-GB">Chapter
3: Wherein Mary Attempts to Leave the Driveway and Go Somewhere<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">After
turning the key in the ignition of her pearl painted Honda Civic with gray leather
bucket seats and ensuring a wrinkle-free secured seat belt, Mary checked her
side mirrors, glanced into her rearview mirror, and shifted her car into
reverse. She considered turning on the car radio but drew her hand back at the last moment, realizing that if the news was on and the weatherman should happen to speak, he may reveal the name of the potential hurricane, and if by some chance it was "Biff" she simply couldn't bear to hear the news when she was alone. No, best to wait until she was with her beau, and they would face it together.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">She applied just the right
amount of pressure to the accelerator and backed the car down the driveway. </span>Just as she
reached the end, she moved her foot to the brake pedal and stopped the car, realizing that she was still
distracted by thoughts about the ding in the door, the hurricane situation, and Biff’s
recent forehead eruption. In fact, she was
so concerned she no longer felt able to drive, so she moved her right hand from
the steering wheel to the gear shift and shifted into “park”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">She reached
into her purse, past her wallet containing twenty-two dollars and thirty-one cents,
her Visa, library card and license; past her makeup case with her lipstick,
blush and mascara, and finally located her cell phone. It was a Verizon LG Smartphone in Electric
Blue, and she had a precious photo of a Siamese kitten as a wallpaper on the
screen, which she had downloaded from an LOL Cats website. She quickly located Biff’s number, which was the
third listed on her Contacts, and pressed the speed dial button. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Mary waited patiently at the end of her driveway while it rang four times. She searched the sky above her as she waited,
in the fervent hope that the robin would appear once more so that she could
determine its gender and share the knowledge with Biff, but it had disappeared
in yet another depressing development of the day. She soon had to endure yet
another disappointment as Biff did not answer, and she listened to his ringback
tone of “I Like Big Butts And I Cannot Lie” before hearing the beep of his
voicemail. “Hello, Biff,” she said,
“Please call me as soon as you can. I am
desperately worried and need to speak with you as soon as possible.” She slid the phone shut and
placed it back inside her purse, between the makeup bag and the brown leather
Buxton wallet. She briefly considered the relevance of Biff’s ring tone in
relation to the dimensions of her own backside and whether or not he would, in
fact, be truthful in its description, but forced herself to set aside such
distractions for the moment. With a heavy sigh (which, this time, could
definitely be heard from across at least a large dining table), she decided
that yes, she could bring herself to proceed with her errand even without
having spoken to Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Thus
resolved, she put the gear shift into reverse once more, looked left and right and
backed from the driveway. She shifted
into drive and proceeded at a cautious and legal speed toward the end of her
road. Seeing the stop sign up ahead, she
slowed the car from 25, to 24, to 23….finally, she came to a complete stop. She looked left, right, and left
again, and seeing no other traffic, she crossed the intersection and continued
on her way, employing (as always) the method of Defensive Driving she had
learned long ago during her Driver’s Ed classes. Even driving legally and defensively, she
could still make it to the post office with plenty of time to spare before
meeting Biff at Bart’s for brunch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Just as she
turned into the post office parking lot, a brick building at <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">321 Post Street which had</st1:address></st1:street> fourteen windows on
street side, her cell phone rang. She
reached into her proper periwinkle and yellow purse and withdrew the
phone. Happily, it was Biff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Oh, Biff,
I’m so glad you called!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Mary, you
sounded upset in your message. Is
everything all right? I was just preparing for our brunch date.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Mary sighed
loudly into the Electric Blue Verizon LG Smartphone. “No, Biff, everything is not all right!” she
admitted. “Not only do we need to worry about that hurricane, but I realized
that I still have the ding in the car, and there are slugs in my new lawn, I don't have nearly enough information about the robin, and your…” Mary paused, considering
mentioning Biff’s unfortunate blemish, but decided against it for fear of
upsetting him or inadvertently causing him to attempt to look at it without a
mirror again. When he’d tried that last
night, he’d become very unattractively cross-eyed and odd-looking, and Mary
certainly didn’t want it to happen again, even if she couldn’t see it. It simply didn’t bear thinking about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Well.
That’s neither here nor there, I suppose.
Although, there is one more thing,” she said quietly. She had avoided
thinking about this subject all morning, but with her inability to share the
correct gender identity of the bird she’d observed and the necessity of skirting around the facial eruption topic, it seemed unavoidable. “It has to do with…unpacking boxes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Biff
remained silent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Oh dear</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">, Mary thought, ignoring the honks of the
motorists behind her in the parking lot who apparently disagreed with her
decision to stop in the center of the lot the very moment her phone rang. W<i>hat if he won’t help? What will I do then?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">As the line
of cars behind her piled up – there was a blue Toyota Tercel directly behind
her, followed by a white Chrysler LeBaron, a black GMC Sierra pickup truck, and
now a green Volkswagon Passat, whose owner was making a gesture that didn’t
bear acknowledgement by a proper young lady – Mary sat and waited breathlessly
for Biff’s response...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><i>Will Biff help Mary?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><i>Will she ever make it to Bart's in time for Brunch?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><i>Will she find the courage to drive out of the post office parking lot?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Did the blighting blemish clear up?</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Stay tuned for the next episode!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
:)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(to be continued.....)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-69460060042246852422012-04-15T12:21:00.001-04:002012-04-18T18:54:37.276-04:00Introducing Biff and Mary: Chapter 1<h4>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Quite some time ago, a good friend and I were discussing writing and the subject of adjective overuse came up. This led to a light-hearted chat about some common mistakes we all tend to make when we first begin writing creatively, specifically the prevalence of excess description, too-perfect heroes and heroines, and just basic "over-writing."</i></span></h4>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Just for fun, I started a mini story about a couple named Biff and Mary, whose new romance is often sadly overshadowed by extraneous detail. Their mutual shallowness is only rivaled by the abundance of unnecessary drama in their lives...not to mention the superfluous ellipses.</i></span></h4>
<h4>
<i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought it would be fun to share Biff and Mary's romance with all of you and so, without further ado (though I might warn you that this will be the last time anything having to do with Biff and Mary will be done without any further ado), I introduce to you the pleasantly perfect, perfectly matched and excessively exhaustive Biff and Mary:</span></i></h4>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chapter
1: Mary Steps Through the Door<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mary ran a
hand through the ends of her shoulder-length, pale blonde hair, which she had
just had tinted by her stylist last Tuesday, and had run a brush through
twenty minutes earlier, before pulling it back into a purple and yellow scrunchy
approximately three inches up from the nape of her neck. She shut the dark green,
painted pine front door with two scratches on the brass knob, which matched the oval-shaped brass door knocker (which did not have any scratches that she knew of), and
stepped off the brick step onto the grass, which was a mixture of Kentucky
bluegrass and weeds, and had a few bald spots caused by slugs, for which she'd
called the Loversville Landscape Company, who were due to arrive the following day at
precisely 8:15 am, barring traffic caused by any unforseen traffic events or
delays in line at the coffee shop.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Her thoughts wandered to the evening before, when Biff had kissed her. His
hair, which was a lovely sun-kissed blond with approximately 23 darker streaks mixed in, which she
had yet to determine were natural or the result of an expert colorist, had
blown around slightly in the breeze caused by the cold front coming in from the
south, which they both hoped wouldn't turn into a hurricane force wind, because
the next hurricane was due to be named with a "B" and for all Mary
knew it would be named "Biff" and she would forever associate the
love of her life and his perfectly-shaded hair with a devastating windstorm...</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
And when Biff had grasped her deeply moisturized and expertly-blushed-by-Maybelline face between his well-manicured hands and kissed her in the possibly-soon-to-become-a-hurricane breeze, his
breath had evoked memories of the finely-aged red wine they’d had with
dinner, as well as the breaded pork chop, marinated asparagus and slightly
overcooked rice pilaf, with a slight aftertaste of cherry cheesecake....he had pressed
his lips to hers with precisely the right amount of passion-inducing pressure,
and she’d felt the scratchy friction of his stubbly beard, which had grown in slightly despite (he had assured her in his ever-so-gallant reassuringly manly way) his efforts of shaving it that
morning at 7:32 with a Bic razor and Barbasol shave cream, rinsed with warm
water and followed by a splash of Old Spice. He’d leaned his forehead against
hers, and she was drawn back in time to the evening before, when she’d noted
the blemish there, just between his thick, dark-blond-but-not-to-be-confused-with-light-brown
brows, and she had suggested he use some Clearasil cream, but he'd insisted that
Neosporin would do the trick. He had
apparently been mistaken because the blemish had remained, casting a skin-reddened
taint upon their near-perfect romantic moment just as she had begun to
appreciate the thoroughly masculine aroma of his thirty-nine-dollar cologne.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Mary smoothed the knee-length skirt of her periwinkle, 80% cotton/20%
polyester dress, which matched her leather heels with the astonishingly adorable
little buckles, as well as her sensible-yet-sexy hoop earrings with
hypoallergenic posts, and sighed. It wasn't a quiet sigh, nor was it a heavy
sigh...it was the type of sigh that you can hear if you are sitting within three feet of the other person, but not from across the room...anyhoo, she smoothed
her periwinkle polyester/cotton blend skirt and sighed as she stood looking at the bald
spots on the lawn and thought once more of Biff, hoping against hope that such bald spots
would never mar that beautiful head of perfectly nuanced hair, as the
unfortunate blemish had marred his forehead. Yes, her beloved Biff, who she also wished would not soon become forevermore known as Hurricane Biff, and whose
blemished pate still drew her like Lyle Lovett’s warbling scarecrow sounds had
once drawn Pretty Woman Julia Roberts. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She sighed again, a bit louder than before but certainly not audibly
enough to be heard from farther than four feet away, and she glanced at her
car. It was a pearl white Honda Civic with 62,421 miles on it, freshly washed
the morning before by the cheerleaders at the Loversville High School Car Wash Fundraiser for Perfectly Pink Pom-Poms, and it shone brightly in the sun that had broken through the possible hurricane clouds. The Civic had last had its oil changed on
November 23rd at 10:02 am, and that was when she had first noticed the ding on one side that she had never had
repaired, and which of course haunted her still each and every day. Between the lawn slugs, the hurricane, the dismaying door ding and her beloved Biff and his blemish (not to mention his possible future baldness and tragic association
with potential storm damage which could lead to the necessity of naming any future offspring "Gale" or "Windy") .... Well. Mary feared it was bound to be an emotionally trying day... </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>(To Be Continued.....)</i></span></span></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-9023656103437400092012-03-07T21:16:00.000-05:002012-03-07T21:16:05.831-05:00Procrastination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFx6_vybfYaFGoPBn6b-ln6ghTYWRmVew-DQaAnQZcnF4QHfRWrIW9sEiYAkhIJzZTN88sQ9y4MeK6MHm08EDBcwFyh0dVGaZ5n435PyeKcG8fZMCUoloarAz058kKPRFuSLjlXVm1wrv/s1600/rodin__the_thinker2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFx6_vybfYaFGoPBn6b-ln6ghTYWRmVew-DQaAnQZcnF4QHfRWrIW9sEiYAkhIJzZTN88sQ9y4MeK6MHm08EDBcwFyh0dVGaZ5n435PyeKcG8fZMCUoloarAz058kKPRFuSLjlXVm1wrv/s200/rodin__the_thinker2.jpg" width="156" /></a></div>I am procrastinating.<br />
<br />
Again.<br />
<br />
Does everyone do this, I wonder?<br />
<br />
Sure, I've been procrastinating about the usual things I get tired of doing, like cleaning and laundry and filing paperwork. <br />
The monotony of those things automatically make them perfect for the Perpetual Waiting List, and quite honestly, I don't feel all that guilty about putting off any of them.<br />
<br />
But it's not as if I'm just putting off things I <i>don't</i> want to do. <br />
<br />
I am also dragging my feet about reading a book I need to review, which is something I usually enjoy.<br />
And I am putting off doing other reading and writing-related things, all of which I have been anxious to get to.<br />
<br />
Now that I've given up one of my three part-time jobs/activities, I had hoped to feel a bit rejuvenated, or at least less burnt out and more raring-to-go.<br />
But, no, apparently it's not so easy. <br />
I am still tempted to spend my evening site-hopping or tv watching, when I <i>should</i> be working on either of my works-in-progress, or writing an essay or a review, or...(<i>ahem</i>) composing a more meaningful blog post.<br />
<br />
I don't know why I am so unproductive, when I have every reason and desire to be <i>more</i> productive right now...<br />
<br />
What do you do when you feel unmotivated?<br />
When you know you can make the time for things, and you really do want to, but you just...don't.<br />
How do you pull yourself out of it and get going again?<br />
If you have any suggestions, I would welcome them!<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I suppose I will continue to procrastinate while simultaneously wallowing in self-pity over my procrastinating ways.<br />
<br />
;)Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-15383305866892142492012-03-04T11:39:00.001-05:002012-03-04T11:42:35.398-05:00The More Things Change<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1TQYkJxm1Z8qd4GksyOz5jZehsMSmnwg8vuG78Wly4kbdiZIej6zmjZmRwwiRZDXUrWov56JNKS5haYZvgY1oP4atX_F2Q-ie3cvQhGZe8Y_RIJzAZ2DlyTu5NPcuf9x8kE5SzVn0YILz/s1600/IMG_1452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1TQYkJxm1Z8qd4GksyOz5jZehsMSmnwg8vuG78Wly4kbdiZIej6zmjZmRwwiRZDXUrWov56JNKS5haYZvgY1oP4atX_F2Q-ie3cvQhGZe8Y_RIJzAZ2DlyTu5NPcuf9x8kE5SzVn0YILz/s320/IMG_1452.jpg" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex Wolff of Nat and Alex Wolff, <br />
Brighton Music Hall, 2/24/12</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>So many changes since I last posted...<br />
Some pressures have eased, while others have not, but that's what keeps life interesting, isn't it? <br />
Right now, the dripping faucet in my kitchen has morphed into a major plumbing project, there is an escaped gecko hiding somewhere in the house, and there's still never enough time/money/what-have-you. <br />
Some things change, and some stay the same.<br />
<br />
I started thinking about how things change when we took my daughter to her first concert last week. She's had a recent interest in <a href="http://www.natnalex.com/about/" target="_blank">Nat and Alex Wolff</a>, formerly featured on Nickelodeon's "The Naked Brothers Band" several years ago. They're still young (14 and 17), but there's some definite musical talent there, and they certainly weren't hard to listen to, even for us chaperones. They also have a dedicated fan base, of which my daughter is one of the more enthusiastic.<br />
<br />
The show was held in a small venue, a less overwhelming first concert experience for a twelve-year-old than one of the large stadiums the more "popular" acts could fill. It turned out to be a great show, and my daughter and her friend were among the many fans who had the opportunity to meet the boys, get autographs, and even have pictures taken with them. A terrific experience, all around.<br />
<br />
It was interesting to me, though, to see that although the screeching "fan girl" attitude was much the same as it may have been when I was twelve or thirteen, some things have definitely changed. Instead of dancing and really getting into the music and the atmosphere as we used to back in the days of waving lighters, most of this audience was far more intent on taping/taking pictures with their phones (note the iphone in the foreground of the picture, above). I lost count of the number of phones held up in the sea of mostly pre-teen girls.<br />
<br />
The performers had to encourage the audience to clap along (since, of course, phones had to be set aside to actually clap!). They were clearly an appreciative and excited audience, regardless, and I can understand why they were so determined to tape the performance; I can only imagine how excited I would have been to have had the opportunity to videotape Aerosmith or Bob Seger, or any of the other concerts I went to. Back then, it was "no cameras" for the most part. We all would have been thrilled to have something other than the old Polaroid Onestep (a bit too bulky to sneak into concerts!).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>And yet...I couldn't help thinking that they were missing out on some of the real thrill of a live concert. After all, how much can you fully experience something if you are merely a videographer? With your eyes primarily on a small screen in your hand instead of the stage before you, the excitement simply can't attain the same level. The audience was certainly enthusiastic, but not in the same way I remember.<br />
<br />
That's the way of most changes, I suppose. There are pros and cons, good parts and not so good parts.<br />
My daughter and the rest of the audience that night may have seemed a bit less completely immersed in the experience than I might have been at that age, but they do have plenty of memories in pictures and video. <br />
Maybe it's a good trade-off. Just as Nat and Alex have changed, evolving from those cute kids in that TV show to "real" musicians, everything needs to change and evolve eventually, and I suppose the concert experience is not immune. And in the end, this new generation doesn't know any different -- it's only us old folks who see it. <br />
<br />
If they are missing out, they don't know it. And maybe that's just how it's supposed to be.Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-8724091848829364422011-03-27T15:20:00.004-04:002011-03-28T22:31:54.552-04:00The Outlander Series: Why it's like the unpredictable teenager on my bookshelf<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnWtK3nMTAhXIjLpAwO1QGs17JiFEiOoiUx2jJ_eGrf1eAvkzdboqZUt7yVtdmw3AJM3z893IhZFovu4rYLiajgySfgtnuHaQ0TPyUfTnaI5EtCgj1IkBy9Vt-Au2yXGaGxLrLrID27Lud/s1600/gabaldon_outlander.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnWtK3nMTAhXIjLpAwO1QGs17JiFEiOoiUx2jJ_eGrf1eAvkzdboqZUt7yVtdmw3AJM3z893IhZFovu4rYLiajgySfgtnuHaQ0TPyUfTnaI5EtCgj1IkBy9Vt-Au2yXGaGxLrLrID27Lud/s200/gabaldon_outlander.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>I've decided that Diana Gabaldon's <em>Outlander</em> series is a lot like a teenager. <br />
<br />
When I first discovered <em>Outlander </em>(thanks to a very intuitive friend), I was blown away. It impressed me as no other book has, before or since. The way it brought history alive, the timeless love between Jamie and Claire, the time travel, the depth and breadth of the writing itself...it was something I'd never experienced in quite the same way with any other author, or in any other book. I ordered all of the books back-to-back, hanging on every word, often rereading from the beginning. Thus began an obsessive love of the story and Diana Gabaldon's writing.<br />
<br />
Yet, much like an unpredictable teenager, the road isn't always smooth. There have certainly been hiccups along the way. Moments when I wondered where the author was taking me, or why. Moments when things have dragged on <em>forever</em> and I almost gave up (the Gathering at Mount Helicon in <em>Fiery Cross</em>, anyone?), or times when I was annoyed or disappointed by the path the characters or story had taken.<br />
<br />
Kind of like living with a teenager, don't you think? ;)<br />
<br />
But no matter what happens, I can't seem to give up on <em>Outlander</em>, and I can't seem to lose faith enough not to see the series through. The most recent book, <em>An Echo in the Bone</em>, was a disappointment for me in that it veered away from Jamie and Claire so much, and took them places I would never have believed they'd go...and yet...even though I ranted and raved, and whined and complained, vowing that I'd wait for the next book to end up in the library before reading it, I know I'm fooling myself. I'll buy it. Whenever it's finally ready, I know I'll be there.<br />
<br />
In spite of my disappointment in <em>Echo</em>, I still follow Diana's blog. I may not agree with everything in the books, but I admire her thoroughly as a writer, and I still read all of the excerpts she generously shares with her readers. I've even become a recent lurker on another blog devoted to the <em>Outlander</em> series, <a href="http://outlandishobservations.blogspot.com/">Outlandish Observations</a> (which I happily recommend to any other Outlander Obsessive!).<br />
<br />
Because even if there are some interminable slogs through slimy swamps, gratuitous amputations or endless clan gatherings, there will always be some spectacular, deeply moving moment in there somewhere that somehow makes up for it.<br />
<br />
And strange as it may be, with both a book series and a teenager, one really good moment often has the power to help you forget all the bad. Or at least allow you to put the not-so-great stuff aside long enough to appreciate that nice moment.<br />
<br />
It seems that my love for the <em>Outlander</em> story and characters far surpasses any "mistakes" they may make, or my disappointment in the paths they've traveled. I just can't abandon them, and I will always care to know where their journeys will lead them. I am devoted, sometimes reluctantly so, even if I'm just an outside observer with no say in what they do or where they go. So I'll be there when the new book comes out, regardless of whether I agree with their actions or the roads they've traveled thus far. <br />
<br />
It can be challenging, and has it's share of head-scratching and cringe-worthy moments, but I just can't seem to turn away. Somehow, I just know it will be worth it in the end.<br />
<br />
Kind of like that with a teenager, too, isn't it?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o7kStsI98XY/TVg-YF1B0gI/AAAAAAAAAEs/NCqDh-magAY/s1600/tiny_heart_icon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o7kStsI98XY/TVg-YF1B0gI/AAAAAAAAAEs/NCqDh-magAY/s1600/tiny_heart_icon.jpg" /></a></div>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-221271299575263872.post-71400296391916510542011-02-20T15:21:00.004-05:002011-02-20T22:50:20.331-05:00"But...weren't you an English major?"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U2eEdW9hEGY/TWFsP9XhLEI/AAAAAAAAAEw/5qhtijJQmJE/s1600/wuthering-heights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" j6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U2eEdW9hEGY/TWFsP9XhLEI/AAAAAAAAAEw/5qhtijJQmJE/s200/wuthering-heights.jpg" width="122" /></a></div>I've actually heard those words, generally in reference to some novel or poetry collection I've admitted to not having read. Those who ask the question clearly imply that there must have been some massive book list requirement for all English majors, and that if I've not read something like <em>War and Peace</em> (which, by the way, I haven't), then I don't <em>really</em> belong in the club.<br />
<br />
I do have a degree in English. I am also the daughter of a college English professor. My love of books and reading and writing is undeniably ingrained in my heart and soul, possibly even engineered into my genetic makeup.<br />
<br />
The truth is that while I've probably read countless books in most every genre, there are so many classics which I have to confess I have <em>not </em>read.<br />
<br />
I can definitely say that I've read nearly every novel published by a Bronte sister (thank you, Dr. Heineman and my beloved Victorian Lit class!)...<br />
<br />
But...as much as I've loved every movie adaptation of Jane Austen's works, I have to admit I've not yet gotten around to reading many of her novels.<br />
<br />
I've read Homer, Shakespeare, Twain, Poe, Swift, Kafka and so many more, for both assignment and pleasure.<br />
<br />
But... I've never read <em>Anna Karenina</em>. <br />
Or the aforementioned <em>War and Peace</em>. <br />
Or even <em>The Count of Monte Christo </em>or <em>Les Miserables.</em><br />
Even (brace yourself!) <em>Oliver Twist.</em><br />
<br />
I am currently reading a book for review which is loosely based on a less well-known work of a very well-known author. When I realized that the referenced book is one I have not read, I had a fleeting moment of shame, as if I should have somehow known that one day, it would be important to read that obscure title, and what kind of English major do I think I am, anyway?<br />
<br />
Because aren't people who have English degrees, by virtue of their very existence, expected to have read pretty much <em>all </em>of the classics? To know each and every Important Author and their particular contributions?<br />
<br />
Maybe.<br />
But then again, maybe not...<br />
<br />
Realistically, even the most dedicated of readers cannot possibly read <em>everything</em>.<br />
<br />
And while I know I can't realistically read it all, I am thrilled that there will always, always be a book to be read, something new (even if it's only new to <em>me</em>).<br />
<br />
I've already got a huge list of books in my TBR pile, some literally piled on a bookshelf and some sitting in my Nook, waiting.<br />
<br />
But I've also got <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/browse/scores/top">Project Gutenberg</a> bookmarked, because so many of these wonderful gifts of classic literature are there, free for the downloading now that their copyrights have expired. Many of these are available directly through Amazon for the Kindle and through Barnes and Noble for the Nook.<br />
<br />
I don't believe I ever did see that monumental list of required classics for English majors, and regardless of those silly, fleeting moments of guilt over not reading what I "should have" read by now, I am so glad that there will always be a way to read those I missed, and that there is still plenty of time to catch up.<br />
<br />
The only hard part is choosing what to read next, isn't it? :)<br />
<br />
I'm thinking that I'll start with everything Austen, and maybe, one day, I will work my way toward <em>War and Peace</em>...<br />
<br />
Maybe. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>Are there any classics that you've always wished you'd read?</em><br />
<em>Are there any that you plan to read soon? Or re-read?</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<u><strong><span style="color: #990000;">**DID YOU KNOW??</span></strong></u><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;">Did you know that <em>you</em> can help Project Gutenberg?</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">Volunteer to proofread one page a day!</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">I just registered -- maybe you want to give it a try, too?</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">See the link on the Project Gutenberg site, or go straight to the Distributed Proofreaders website, <a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">here</a></span><span style="color: #990000;">. :)</span>Jeanninehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17962950969619952909noreply@blogger.com0