Dinner was sitting on the counter getting cold, but the girl still wasn't home. Lois rested her chin in her hand. Just for a moment, she thought. But a moment became a nap, and Lois was soon snoring loudly. The fire in the hearth flickered and sputtered. As it began to die out, sparks flew out and landed on the flagstone floor. At least, they would seem to be sparks to the common eye. But these were long and skinny, and when they landed, they began to scuttle about.
You can find the entire recipe for Rum Balls here. Pre-heat the oven to 350. Generously coat a 12"x17" rimmed baking sheet with Pam and set aside. In a small bowl set over a pan of simmering water, melt together the chocolate and butter until smooth and combines. Set bowl aside to cool slightly.
For gift giving: wrap each of the balls individually in a small square of plastic wrap and place in a mini-muffin paper. Fit a small rectangle of cardboard (my dad cut up some Macy's shirt boxes! Yeah Dad!) on the bottom of a cello bag and add a small strip of decorative paper. Place two rows of three rum balls each in their muffin papers into the bag, tie with ribbon and add a tag. Store in a cool place before giving.
As the pipe clamp blisters began to pop and heal on my hands, I knew I was in a race against myself to find my next gig in woodworking. I had just quit my job after I was put on a mandatory 72-hour work week schedule, which was neither safe nor necessary in the warehouse where I was a full time furniture maker. From my first taste of sawdust, I was hooked. I loved everything about it, especially the aches & pains associated with putting in a hard day of manual labor.
I had moved thousands of miles from my industrial Michigan factory roots, only to go to college and decide the blue collar life is what I wanted. I quit my job, only when it was obvious that it would either kill or permanently injure me...but it was still one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. Besides the fact that I love it, I realize now how wrapped up I was in the identity of being just one thing...In my working life, I have always had to have at least three side hustles going on and I've done everything from nude modeling, to being a maid, a well-paid executive assistant, an extra in movies, a make-up artist, to an apprentice sander in a woodshop.
When I call home to update my family, typically, whatever it is I describe is met with unconditional love & acceptance, even if there is a tinge of it not necessarily being understood. As a woodworker, I was finally able to align myself with an identity - one thing that I loved being and doing...and it was so much easier to explain that!
Predictably, when the job fell apart, I scrambled for any paying gig I could find on craigslist. As it turns out, it was a good time to be involved with film making and I even signed up for acting classes. Being involved in the process is as exciting as it seems like it would be - even the long hours of waiting, while being completely dressed to the nines for a 6:00 a.m. call time, shouldn't be exciting, but it still is.
Around this time I also found work as a fit model, working for a local design house. It's a job that pays very well but the work is inconsistent. Still, I am extremely thankful to have it, even if it is a bit weird for me to use it as an identifier at the dentist's office and have the receptionist squeal and ask me a bunch of questions about the job. That's a rock star moment, I'm not going to lie, but it's completely foreign to me to identify myself as "model" in any capacity...especially when "factory rat" was a closer signifier just weeks ago.
I'm not sure if all the discomfort in lacking a fixed occupation or identity squarely rests on my shoulders, or if I am reacting to other people's confusion when I try to explain, "Well, I'm actually a furniture maker, but I'm out of work, so I'm doing the acting and modeling thing, while looking for another woodworking gig." Who does that? I'm not sure if I even understand myself anymore.
In the long run, it's probably a good thing that I am so versatile & adaptable - I always have something relevent for any type of resume I'm creating for myself (and I have at least 3); but I long for the day when I have a short answer to the question, "So what do you do?"
You can find the entire recipe for the Spicy Hot Cocoa here. I followed all the basic ingredients but I added a few shakes of cinnamon, a teaspoon of vanilla powder and a large pinch of cardamom.
On to the marshmallows!
You can find the entire recipe for the Homemade Marshmallows here. I followed all the basic ingredients but I substituted Mexican Vanilla for the regular vanilla extract. You could also try peppermint extract for a pepperminty marshmallow!
The little hogboon was miles away when he heard the earth rumble, but he recognised the sound of that bit of earth. Every rock and every cave had its own unique vibration, and it was his gift to tell them apart. He turned toward the source of that ill-fated sound and took off running as fast as his tiny legs would carry him. Soon enough he came within sight of a plume of dust rising from a cliff in the distance. His home! The creature held back a fearful tear. How could this have happened? It was then that he noticed more than dust coming from the cliff. A strange man, grinning, yet full of malice, strode out of the thick dust and made his way purposefully back toward the town.
It was then that he spotted her riding down the hill on a black and grey mare. He was mesmerised. She was somehow both beautiful and plain; all at once familiar and mysterious - even more so than the standing stone at the heart of town. He had to know who she was and tried to catch her up, but she breezed right past him, unseeing, as she made her way to the north end of town. He followed on foot, so inexplicably drawn to her. As he rounded the corner, he saw her look all round suspiciously, though her eyes did not land on him. Then she kicked her horse and it exploded at top speed into the vast countryside where he could not follow on foot. He sighed and turned back. An introduction would have to wait. But she had come from the house on the hill. Surely his mother's new friend could tell him who she was.
it's raining out, and i'm watching "benji the hunted".
WHY am i doing this to myself...on a saturday afternoon?!
One slow step after the next, he carved a circle around the mammoth oddity. Looking it up and down he could not place where he'd seen it before. Here, at the center of town, the giant stone overlooked every aspect of the villagers lives. They shopped, they gossiped, they harvested and held festivals in its shadow, seeing it as a time honoured friend. But, as he paced his ever shrinking circle around the lonely standing stone, he could only see it as a mystery.
In regard to my new little experiment 'a paragraph a day' it only took my first attempt for me to realise it wasn't going to work as I'd hoped. You see, I'm the creative type who always feels a need to create, but I am unfortunately not the type that is a fountain of ideas waiting to break forth. Like if you're someone who loves to drive, but has nowhere to go. Or maybe just no gas. You may sit in your car and stare out the window with your hands on the wheel, but you're just not going to get anywhere.
So trying to come up with a whole new narrative idea every day is just too much for me. It just isn't there. Hopefully I will be able to come up with a few prompt based ideas or completely random ideas every now and then. But I think the thing that made NaNo work is that I was just constantly building on the same ideas.
So I've decided to try to use that a bit more, and I'm going to write paragraphs based on my NaNo novel and its associated epic. Expanding on things, showing other characters' perspectives or events not fully described. All without giving too much of my actual story away, of course.
