Dear Friends,
If you are here searching for a reindeer, I am truly sorry. I regret misleading anyone. For those of you who have no idea what I'm referring to, consider yourselves fortunate.
For those of you who have fallen for my cheap theatrics yet again, I sincerely apologize (yet again). An author must do what an author must do to raise awareness and drive traffic to her website. While you're here, why don't you have a look around? You just might find something good to read.
Thank you for your patience and forbearance. Please visit my website often. Who knows? A reindeer might just show up one day.
Blessings,
Cheryl N. Warner
Please note: No reindeer were harmed in the making of my YouTube video or in the writing of this blog.
Wob, wob, wob!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRxsFYZrS44
Not the country, the woman. My mother had a cousin named Australia, and even though she passed away years before I was born, I hated her. Every single spring, I hated her. Here's why: I loved going barefoot as a kid. Nothing felt more liberating than kicking off those shoes and running outside to welcome in the warmer weather. Sure, the first few times you did it you felt like Madam Tenderfoot, but once you became acclimated, you could jump up and down atop pinecones and hardly even grimace. Okay, so I exaggerate a little, but still. You remember the feeling: that first day you walked out into the world with nothing standing between your tootsies and nature. Of course, that wasn't a good thing if stray pets tended to use your yard as a rest stop, but I'll save that story for another day. Strolling through clover was the best. Well, except for the yellow jackets. Moss was most pleasant to saunter across, until you landed squarely in a fire ant bed where the workers were grouchy and fierce from trying to please the queen. Man, those little mammies could sting!
Okay, so what does any of this have to do with dear cousin Australia? Everything! Australia came down with pneumonia and died at a very young age, and the cause of death was mutually agreed upon by all. See, my mom was raised in rural Alabama during the days when scientific knowledge was limited at best, and what was known had certainly not reached Florence yet. Seems Australia took it upon herself to prance around outside barefoot too early in the spring, thereby catching and succumbing to the deadly pneumonia. Who knew that years later when Cheryl felt the urge to kick off her shoes and head outdoors, her mother would demand she redress her feet or succumb to discipline. "Why?" I would irritably ask, knowing the reason all along. In fact, I believe I used to mouth along with the trite speech. "Because your cousin Australia died from pneumonia from going barefoot too early in the spring." Bless Mom's heart. She truly believed it.
Man, I hated Australia! Why'd she have to go and die and ruin all my fun? Why couldn't she have at least died in the fall, with her blasted shoes on her feet? Childish of me? Of course. I was a child.
Years later after my mother passed away, my brothers and sister and I found a box of black and white photographs that we spent hours perusing. Wouldn't you know that we ran across a picture with the name Australia scrawled across the back of it. So that was the infamous Australia! After rehashing the story of her demise, we took a closer look at the picture. Australia was truly stunning. Her complexion was flawless, her smile so endearing. I spent a long time staring at her face and felt guilt spilling over the top of my long-lived abhorrence. How selfish of me to hate someone for dying, and dying so young, too. How ridiculous to hate her because of the naiveté of others.
I suddenly realized that Australia was probably a lot like me: that she couldn’t wait for winter to end so she could shed her shoes and experience the wondrous feel of grass beneath her feet. Poor Australia. She strolled barefoot through so few springs. And my not being able to do so certainly wasn’t her fault. At least I was still around to enjoy spring. It sure felt good to let go of childish resentment.
Funny thing is I hardly ever go barefoot now, not even in the house. With my childishness, did I also lose my love of simple things? Or is the small voice of my past whispering that I’m in danger of catching pneumonia? Nah. I just have really cold, tender feet. With the loss of childishness also comes common sense. : )
Posted by Cheryl N. Warner
I learned about Babel Fish Translation, a service of AltaVista. On this website you can translate words, phrases, even entire paragraphs or letters from one language to another. One of the characters in the book I’m currently working on is Portuguese. This site will be extremely helpful in lending authenticity to my story.
I discovered Kevin’s MIDI Karaoke. Wanna drive your family or coworkers batty? Go to this site and start singing along. Lyrics are provided and it’s free!
I learned that there is now “virtual” everything, even virtual book signings. Check this out: http://www.macdevcenter.com/pub/a/mac/2004/04/13/virtualbooksigning.html. Maybe I’ll have to give this one a try one of these days.
I learned that even after receiving an ugly, bloody gash, my 7 pound dog will never learn not to go after dogs 10 times his size or opossums with long, sharp teeth. Riki, Riki, Riki…
I learned about an endearing attribute of vultures. Yes, vultures, as in turkey buzzards. According to Wikipedia.com, “Pairing, bonding, protecting, and loving are essential attributes associated with a vulture. In Southern Africa, the name for a Nubian Vulture is synonymous with the term applied to lovers, because these vultures are always seen in pairs, mother and child remaining closely bonded together.”
We could learn a thing or two from our revolting feathered friends. I wish you a blessed 2006.
