What makes a box turtle attack?
Current mood: tired
Category: Pets and Animals

In all my experience I've never seen a Box Turtle display even the slightest hint of aggression. My six year old son puts his pet turtle in trees, plays airplane with it and gives it mud baths. It patiently takes it all from with in shell. Peaking out  to sprint for a hedgerow and freedom once my son sets him down.

 I thought it impossible to anger a box turtle and was sure my friend exaggerated when he said his room mate's turtle hates him and tries to attack him.

I had to see for myself. I put my hand in front of it's face and it stared impassively as if it didn't even see my hand. Then my friend put his hand in front of the terrarium and the turtle suddenly animated lunged at the glass. It's beak opened and clamped shut as it struck the glass. The turtle lunged repeatedly.

I have to agree with him . Tthat turtle hates him, it obvious it wanted to take a bite out of my friend.   I don't think it's as simple as the turtle being angry over being given a female name when it's a male turtle. I doubt even turtles know what gender they are until confronted with an opportunity to mate.

Does any one have any ideas what could make a turtle attack?

I think it has something to do with oatmeal. My friend has an unnatural adversion to oatmeal and aparently so does the turtle.

Only two know what terrible thing happened with the oatmeal and neither of them are talking        

1:11 AM - 5 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Flasher story (inspired by Grace)
Current mood: amused
Category: Life

If you get a chance read my friend Grace's Flasher stories they're very funny. It inspiried me to write my own.   

I was the flasher. I was nine. My mom and her sister were talking in the kitchen and I wanted to ask my mom if I could have a push up ( the orange sorbet treat not the exercise ). It was such a hot day and I  had been playing outside all morning. I was hot and sweating and was just imagining how good a sweet cold push up would be, but they were ignoring my pleas. So out of desperation I pulled down my shorts and flashed my Aunt.

My aunt shrieks " Oh my God Dianne you son just exposed himself to me"  For a brief moment their jaws dropped and didn't lift to articulate more speech. I seized my opportunity and yelled " CAN I HAVE A PUSH UP, PLEASSSSE"! 

Of course not. They didn't appreciate what a cleaver way it was to interrupt a conversation that could be compared to machine gun fire.   My  Mom's face blossomed scarlet as she grabbed me hard by the wrist and drug me to my room. "I want you to think about what you did and to stay in your room  until you realise what you did was wrong and you're(opps no contractions, not when mom was mad) you are  ready to apologise to your Aunt Nancy."

Realising that I was well versed in apology speeches and was ready to deliver one she added. "I don't want to hear a peep out of you for one hour"

A few minutes after Mom left I heard my sister in the hall way. "Pssst Hey Jackie  would you get me a push up? I'll let you play with my close encounters of the third kind trading cards and you can even keep the one of Richard Dreyfuss building a model Devils Tower in his family room that you like so much "   

10:30 AM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Iceland
Current mood: recumbent
Category: Travel and Places

My first impression of Iceland was Keflavik Naval Air Station A dirty brown collection of buildings and hangers dropped on what ever even surface that could be found on the western edge of Iceland's South Western pensiula. From the elevation of the hills by the base you could truely feel like you're at the end of the world with 300 degrees of your view filled with the Atlantic ocean and the rest a narrow penisula leading back to the island.

Iceland has a suprisingly mild climate. In the year I lived there the temperature never got above 60 degrees F but never dropped belowed 20 F. It rained several times a week and when it wasn't raining it was usually overcast and misting. I was there without a car and really didn't need or want one. I started hiking the country side as soon as the snow started to melt off. 

You get away from civilization and it was like being on another planet. It's no wonder astronaut are trained there. No trees, no shrubs.Gritty  Black volcanic sand and rocky outcroppings over much of the island and thick dense moss. You step on it and it compresses several inches under your weight then springs back. My favorite hike was the ten miles to the blue lagoon a geo thermal pool as large as a small lake. Even in the winter you only had to walk a few meters in to find the water  temperature that  of bath water. The high sulfur content had coated the rocks and made the lagoon bed smooth, comfortable enough to lay on and rest your head on the sulfer coated rocks. There was something about the high mineral content of the water. I'd leave the water so relaxed it was hard to walk and have to call a cab to get back to the barracks. One frigid Night I laid in the lagoon watching the Aurora Borealis. I've seen it before but never like this. It wasn't a distant ribbon of a glowing flase horizon in the sky but it was like a living being rhytmically snaking across the sky. It seemed to get closer. Close enough for me to wonder if a model rocket could reach it. Then it slowly began to dim as it's tail passed by and eventually was gone. I can see why so many myths  and legends are based on these lights.

The people were so different. Proud, strong, direct, yet gracious. Being pretty isloated their langauge has changed very little in 800 years and is very much like the Old Norse of the Viking era. Bumping into someone on a sidewalk is not considered rude but interupting a conversation to excuse yourself as you pass is. There's no crime to speak of. Women will leave their baby in a stroller outside a store while they shop.  They're such a responsible people that I think they don't even consider crime a threat as in why would I put a lock on my door except to keep a strong wind from blowing it open?

Rekyavik the Capital is a beautiful modern city of 150,000 (over half of the country's population) They have Burger kings and McDonalds but you're much more likely to get horse or goat than beef. I wouldn't bother the ethnic cusine is much better. I've never tasted a waffle bread like it wholesome and sweet. A more subtle sweet that you can gorge on without feeling sick from having to much sweets, the dried cod may be more of an aquired taste though.    

The nightlife in Rekyavik is incredible. Car traffic ceases and they're hundreds of people walking the streets with friends heading from one club to another. I seen a few fights but it wasn't like here in the states. It was an acceptable way to solve disputes. Two men would fight viciously until one got the upper hand. then the winner would help the other man up give him a hug and buy him a drink. They didn't pick on tourists though. I look Nordic enough to be mistaken for Icelandic and one man asked if I'd like to have a recreational fight with him, when I answered him in english he just smiled and said that's ok and walked off.  Women were equally as forward  and it's just such a guileless frank culture.They're also very aware of their ancestory and most could remember the names of their ancestors a dozen generations back.

 I rented a car and went to some of the beautiful waterfalls, drank from the Skogafoss. drove past the large glacier on the south west end of the Island. It's weird to see incredibly  green  grass and moss growing right up to a mountain of solid Ice.     Marveled at large Icelandic men riding their small sturdy horses, so short are these horses that the riders heels nearly drag ground. It's the cleanest place I've ever been. The whole Island is heated with geo thermal energy. Hot water is pumped to radiators through out the country. Very efficient, very clean.  I'd love to go back and visit sometime.

4:29 PM - 5 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

published poem
Current mood: good
Category: Writing and Poetry

Soap

 Smoothly  superior to broken tiles                        

finely taped in green rounded edges

flecked with white breeding inhibition 

this is my rock

for which I will build a thought

of clean cut boys and shy girls

of good scents for all.                                                       

9:33 PM - 4 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

chased by an alien
Current mood: energetic
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

I was 17 and waiting for my girlfriend's signal. Her mother was a nurse her father a train engineer. They both worked the graveyard shift. Once they were gone she'd call me let the phone ring once and hang up so as not to wake my parents. it was usually around 11:30pm.

Once I got the signal I would sneak out of the house and start pushing my car down the driveway. My car was a beautiful black 1972 Dodge Charger with a 318 and a factory 4bbl carb. I'd been saving my farming money for 6 months to buy it and immediately installed glass packs.

The gentle decent of my gravel driveway made the pushing easy. Once I thought I was far enough from the house for my car to not  wake my parents I hoped in and turned the engine over.

It was a warm moonless summer night . The windows were down and the wind was blowing though my over groomed shoulder length hair. Parker Stevenson and Shawn Cassidy may have grudgingly acknowledged how perfectly I feathered it. One side mirrored the other. Black sabbath was playing Sweet Leaf  on my 8-track as I passed the small cemetary on the left. Cemetaries shared by perhaps a dozen or so farming families dotted the rural landscape. we never frequented them because they weren't even big enough to be spooky. 

It was about 7 miles through Minnesota farm country to my girl friends house. Her father raised hogs and cattle on the side. The smell  never left them. Even at school it hung on her clothes. I didn't mind though, there was something earthy and real about it. It made you feel like you belonged to something. Like being caught in mother earths embrace you  were an intregal part of a natural order.

I passed the Bee keepers farm. He gave us a couple of jars of honey each year because his bee's worked so hard in our alfalfa fields. As I came to the end of the road I notice a light to the south east.

It looked like the light of a plane several miles off . I watch it for several seconds and seen that it's traveling west and could possibly intercept my course. Even though I'm guessing it's thousands of feet above the ground I get an odd feeling. A sense of foreboding?  Like I need to do whatever I can to avoid it. So I follow my instincts and  instead of  turning south to my girlfriends house I head North.

Suddenly everything is bathed in light! The light that appeared to be several miles off 2 seconds ago was directly over me and was completely silent!   Without thinking I stomped on the accelerator, the other 2 barrels of my carberator opened up and roared to life, the choppy song of the glass packs echoed of the trees lining the road. I had to grip the steering wheel tight to keep from being pushed farther back into my seat.

Fleeing down a hilly road I push my car over 100 mph. I can feel a weightlessness as if my tires threaten to leave the road cresting each hill.Yet the bright light stays with me it seems it couldn't be more than 20 feet above me now.

By now I've pretty much abandoned the thought of it being a police helicopter and I'm leaning toward alien craft. I've seen scary abduction shows and know they can shut down electrical devices. I'm scared but energized I'm determined to not go down without a fight. I'm thinking that if they shut down my engine at this speed, I'll of course lose power steering and crash into a tree.I'm not good as a lab rat if they have to scrape me off a tree so I think my best hope is to keep up the reckless chase.

I'm having trouble seing the road because the light is so bright like the lamps that used to bake paint on a car. I'm begining to think I'll never be able to shake it when I remember a friend from school lives just a couple of miles  further up the road and his dad is a deputy sheriff.

Now I have a plan. If I can keep them from shutting me down for another minute I can make it to Pete's house. "45 more seconds don't shut me down, don't shut me down" Ozzy is singing the lament of iron man "30 more seconds don't shut me down.... 15 seconds, 10 , 5 , SHIT, where the hell is Pete's driveway?!...there it is!" I mash down on the brakes, tires squeal, the car slides, the light stays on me. I punch the gas as I slide past Pete's driveway, the tires purchase and I cut  through a shallow ditch jarring the car and tossing me about I crank the wheel hard to the right coming back to the direction from which I just came my drive wheels sending up rooster tails of earth and grass from pete's lawn. I hit the brakes again as I cross his driveway and slide to a stop in front of Pete's door I jump out of the car and sprint for the house. I steal a glance up to see my pursuer abandonding the chase and taking a North easterly route across open farm land. I couldn't see what it looked like just the spot light in front an oval of red and green lights perhaps 20-25 feet by 10-15 feet    and a dark shadow against the sky of what was between the lights. 

BOOM! my momentum carries me into the door I crash head and shoulder against it then crumple on the steps.I was safe at the moment then lights came on and Pete Senior answered the door wearing nothing but briefs and his police issue 38 revolver.

My teenage lust left many opportunities for a repeat encounter with the craft. Thankfully  it never happened again. I brought my loyal friend and protector Laddie a full sized collie with me when I went to Gayles house from then on (He protected me from boggie men when I was 8 why wouldn't he fight for me now?)

8:51 PM - 8 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Interview with a new Author!
Current mood: chipper
Category: Romance and Relationships

Today I'm interviewing Author Jan Conwell.  Jan is a Wichita Falls native and a member of the romance writers of America. Her first book was released  may 1st and is available through  Triskelion publishing.

TH; You had a secure career in Civil Service. What made you decide to leave that to become a professional author?

JC: Civil Service-or more specifically-being an instructor was great. Lots of interesting people to meet, the satisfaction of seeing students go from greenies to graduates. But after mastering the subject matter, the routine got old and I started looking around for a new subject to teach. (I taught 10 different subjects to airmen, NCO's, officers and civilians, between 1993 and 2004.) Job security in Civil service is great- but it can also be mind-numbingly boring if your attention span is as short as mine.

So, to actually answer your question the decision to leave was simply a function of having all our kids grow up and move out , leaving us with fewer bills to pay! I wanted to write and my great guy said "Go for it!" 

TH; What kind of problems did you encounter finding a publisher to buy your book and what kind of support did you get?

JC;  The old catch-22 is as alive and thriving in the publishing industry as it is in any job market.  They don't want you with no experience, but you can't get experience if they don't want you.  As far as problems encountered , that was the main one, but I also contend with a crippling patience disorder . As in , I have very little and need more.    Support? That's easy. I belong to the greatest writing group in the world: the Romance writers of America Online Chapter. Brilliant, eloquent , discerning people, always ready to cheer you up after every rejection letter, and to cheer you on after every success. Cyber sympathy chocolates and celebratory margaritas are highly underrated.

TH; Lucky Break is giving me a seldom seen woman's view from the inside of the aircraft maintenance fraternity. Was there ever a question of what genre it would be?

JC; No, I wanted to make it a romance. Mostly because I thought writing romance would be easy. The joke was on me. Romance is formulaic. So is mystery , sci-fi, fantasy, or suspense. A genre's readers have certain expectations  and if the writer doesn't meet them, she'll end up with a nice  8 1/2   x 11 doorstop. But anyone who says writing romance is easy has not tried to do it. I found out the hard way, but by then I'd fallen in love with my characters and had to finish telling their story. Now I'm too fond of the happy-ever-after thing to give it up.

TH; Reading your book I was struck by how natural the male character's responses were to subtle office intimacies. How did you gain such insight on male perspective and thoughts?

JC;  Yeah, they say women are bad. Hehehe. Men gossip too, they just spit, cuss, and insult each other more while they gossip. I worked in an almost exclusively male environment for the duration of my Civil Service career. Oh, and I married one. A man, I mean. The hero in Lucky break?  I had a good pattern at home.

TH; You wake up from a dream at 2 am and reach for the notebook on your nightstand. What happens to that dream if you're going to make it your next book?

JC; If any of my dreams ever made it into a book, I'd soon be in court-ordered psychotherapy. But the process from idea to book is a slow organic one.  The idea has to percolate from the "what if" stage into a really rough outline. Once I'm writing it, I try to stick to the outline, but the characters sometimes do stuff without my permission  and I'm just along for the ride.  In my most recent manuscript Tequila Mockingbird, some chick showed up dead in an alley. And I seriously  had no clue at the time who killed her or what to do about it.

TH;  If you were a superhero what would your superhero power be?

JC; I would be (insert trumpet fanfare here) Diplomati-Femme. Yeah, not very exciting, unless you've spent your entire life not being able to shut your mouth on stuff you shouldn't say.  So my superpower would be just that... the ability to THINK before I SPEAK!

TH; If you could give an aspiring writer only three pieces of advice what would that advice be?

JC; 1. Develop the bone-deep understanding that writing is a business. Without really, really, really (add 100 more reallys) getting that fact you're roadkill. Emotionally deflated roadkill.

2. Ignore the previous advice WHILE you're writing. Write what you love, what you would want to read, and then when it's time to shop it around to agents and editors, remember the previous advice on a cellular level. It's personal as hell until it's time for it to not be personal .

3. Read widely. Not just in the genre in which you write, but all sorts of things; memoirs, histories, spy novels, children's books, fairytales, political rants, bicycle assembly manuals. It's part of the fuel for your voice.          

   Jan thank you very much for your time and thoughful answers. I wish you every success and hope to see you on the New York Times best sellers list soon .  Good luck and God Bless.

 To find out more about Jan Conwell and how you can purchase her new book Lucky break visit her website at www.janconwell.com

For those of you who haven't met her yet,

I'd like you to meet Fiona Wright, the heroine

of Lucky Break.  She's a flat-chested, bespectacled, optimistic hippy-chick, a journalism major who (because of a rat-bastard ex-boyfriend) lands a job teaching Aircraft Fuel Systems maintenance.  Really.  She's every military man's nightmare--imagine Carrot Top as a woman, and put her on an Air Force Base.

Here's the cover. To read an excerpt, click on his smile, (or his armpit or his...toolbelt, whatever floats your boat.)  Sort of makes you

wonder what he's smiling about, doesn't it?  Fiona.  That's what. It freaks him out, but he has no clue what to do about it.  Or her.

Lucky Break is now available through Triskelion Publishing among the New Releases. 

Get your copy today!

9:37 AM - 2 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment

sacred peaces ghost
Category: Romance and Relationships

Once liquid

all was surrender

no magic

all smoke

sacred peaces ghost devores gentle earth 

1:41 AM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

remember your first Festival of Beltane? (may 5)
Current mood: cheerful
Category: Religion and Philosophy

Correct me if wrong but the Celts celebrated the sun reaching halfway between it's Vernal Equinox  and the Summer Solistice when the weather got warm enough to send the livestock to summer pastures. There's much more rich history with a bonfire and rituals I don't know that make up the Festival of Beltane.

With the Festival growing close I'm lost in the fond memories of my first Beltane. It was in the SCA's Barony of Namron,(Norman OK)

It was a hot day as most days are in the this part of the country even in may. Seems like I waited hours for the highland games to start. I passed the time chatting and washing Lady Etain's feet with my Tunic. Our Local Laurel elizabeth took the time to woad some beautiful celtic knot work on my shaven head. 

As the events started last years winner a rasputinean scot sized me up. Lord Bryan wouldn't let me be intimidated by the alpha Scot and set about working me into a caber tossing mood.

several Lads and as I would except fell scottish Lasses  tossed.  I tossed and bellowed with all my might. After 3 rounds it was down to me and the Champion. He looked magnificant long hair and beard flowing as he  planted flawlessly  but he was tiring  and his caber listed as it turned at an angle. I was gaining the big man'srespect, refusing to wear gloves my palms full of slivers.My friends chanting. I gave everything I had left into the last toss. I kept the caber straight but it paused at the top of the arc then fell forward.

I was rewarded with a bottle of Lady Murigheals wonderful meade. I joined the hammer toss but really should have practiced releasing the hammer while spinning before the event. Once Again Murigheals meade found it's way to me.

 Next event wrestling. A Moor all short and stout twisted me into a pretzel, I sought solice in Muirgheal's meade.

Lady Vermillion was my partner for the hagis toss. I wore a loaner kilt as any one knows you can't catch haggis without a kilt. It was hilarious vermillion tossing it over a river me sliding under holding out my kilt to catch .Each team trying to undo each other's dramatic catches There's was a bonfire and singing and more driniking of meade and just a really fun time. Next morning off to a friends house in OK city to have the slivers pulled out of my palms. Now they hurt         

6:19 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Civilian Mother forced to leave baby to go to war
Current mood: enraged
Category: News and Politics

This one is very personal because it's about a close friend here in Wichita Falls.

Nick and Melissa met in the Military fell in love and married. Melissa soon became pregnant. Melissa had served 3 years of a 4 year enlistment. The Air Force offered to let Melissa out early to be a full time Mom.

Melissa was given an honorable discharge having fulfilled her obligation to the military.  Nick has stayed in the Military supporting their  family. While Melissa manages the home and cares for her children.

About 3 weeks ago Melissa received orders. She's being recalled. It's starting with a Physical at a military installation next week. She has a 3 year old daughter and a baby boy that's just learning to walk.

Never in our Country's history have we made non Volunteer Mother's leave their babies behind to go to war. I say non volunteer because there are mothers serving in Iraq but they all are under the contract of an oath of enlistment they took or a commission they accepted.  Melissa is very much a civilian. It's her misfortune to have been trained in a field that is sorely needed in Iraq (mechanic). So she's being yanked away from her family with out regards to her children because the military thinks they need her more.

I'm so disgusted over this. I most sincerely wish I could go in her place. I would do it in an instant if I knew that she'd be able to stay home with her kids. At what point does the cost of this war  become to great? 

Sadly dollars and cents seem to have more of an influence than family  being I wouldn't be an acceptable replacement because I'd have to be paid at my retired rank where Melissa would only get airman pay.   I emailed our Congressman Mac Thornberry and if you're disgusted enough to I'll get his email address off my work computer. ( forget to send it home like a dork )    

3:42 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The madness of King George
Current mood: sad
Category: News and Politics

I was reading blogs that Abs and Min wrote about George Bush.. Great blogs, really made me think about it.

12 years ago I had very conserative views but I've steadily been moving to the left and I'm moderately center now. It's not because of apathy. I'm not in the middle so I won't have to defend my own views. I've seen that to much of anything puts a real strain on the country. Let big business run wild and the people suffer. Social programs run wild and the working people suffer. George Sr. struggled with a democratic controlled congress. Bill with a republican one and I think the country prospered because of the balance.

 Well that's not fair to either president because I don't think either one of them would have gone off the deep end if they had all the support of congress like George W. has.

 In 2000 when gas prices soared up to $1.70 a gallon Clinton responded to the public outcry and handled the oil companies well. Soon gas was back down to $1.20 a gallon. George W. came from oil money and he's obviously allowing his and Dick Cheneys friend rape the American people.

Every summer elder people die because they can't afford air conditioning. Now that oil prices have doubled, it's costing a lot more to produce electricity and  electricty bills have nearly doubled. I wonder if Dick and George have thought about how many more eldery people will die of heat stroke in their bed because they couldn't afford to pay their electric bill. Then setting a precedence by allowing Tyco to move it's whole operations to China to avoid having to pay worker pensions. You can't blame big business. It's  in their nature to be only concerned with making a profit. The betrayal  comes from the White House. It's his duty to do what's in the best interest of the people.

He's also screwing his party. I'm voting democrat in the next congressional election in the hopes that they can take control of the house or senate to minimize the damage he can do in his last two years.Most people expect the democrats to control everything by 2008. I've never seen a President act with such disregard.    

 I had 18 years in the military when George W. invaded Iraq. I prayed he was just talking tough and wasn't going to invade. No question Sadam Hussien is a ruthless killer but the country was stable with him. He wasn't a threat to his neighbors anymore as long as we kept him in check. I honestly believe W. wanted to finish what his daddy started and invented reasons. So thousands of people die because he has his hackles up and many thousands more who'll have to live with the horrors that He and Dick would  never understand because they never walked in a soldiers shoes.

It's not that I'm totally against war. I was all for invading afganistan. we had an obvious enemy that did us harm. I Just wish george W. understood the cost. Could know what it was like to smell death. How that rancid sweet smell stays with you, even after you shower and scrub until your skin turns red trying to get rid of that smell, so you wonder if it's really still there or you're haunted by a phantom smell. I wish he could know what it's like to get so used to seeing  corpses that they just become part of the scenery along with burnt out vehicles and pock marked, sand colored walls.   I wish he could have seen one of those corpses stir and for it to suddenly register that's a man with parents and probably a wife and children.  To not be able to make the man understand that his wounds are to grevious for his first aid skills and that he needs to get help but to understand that when the man won't let go of his hand that he just doesn't want to die alone.I wish it was him who wadded up his shirt and placed it under the mans head then held his hands and prayed with him until his was sobbing to hard to pray anymore because he knew the mans family would never see him again.

Then maybe he wouldn't sell our lives so cheaply and not be so quick to go to war.   

9:18 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment