It's the Druid's life for me

Even as a wee lad, the Druid knew his path . . .

The Druid, it seems, has always known his path . . .

A: Hey, D. What did you want to be when you grew up?

D: What did I want to be?

A: Yeah – I mean, even way back then, at the dawn of time, you had to have aspirations, dreams.

D: I take exception to that “dawn of time” comment . . . 670 was not the dawn of time, A.

A: . . .

D: Well, it isn’t.

A: Fine. It’s just slightly after the dawn of time—

D: A—

A: You’re avoiding the question, D: what did you want to be when you grew up?

D: You say that as though it’s something different than what I am, now that I am, ostensibly, grown.

A: Oh, I don’t mean that at all – but did you really know, at the tender age of-of. . . you know, this is why I had such trouble writing that book of your beginnings – you as a cherub-cheeked lad with a halo of dark curls really messes with my vision of you now.

D: . . . Your vision of me now?

A: Did you just learn how to italicize, or something?

D: Maybe. It works though.

A: Maybe.

D: (Eye roll). Regardless of your vision of me now, in my cherub-cheeked days I was made keenly aware of the gifts I possessed, despite my mother’s insistence I have what she called ‘a normal childhood’ away from the machinations of the clans and the druids. Yet, I was the second son of the clan chief, and had a gift that was prophesied before my birth.

A: And then there’s that honor thing – it didn’t let you even challenge that prophesy, did it?

Just looking at this, I can't imagine D as a child . . . it's just not right. (D as imagined by Green Embers)

Imagine, D as a child – all cherub-cheeks and curls. No, I can’t do it, either.
(D as imagined by Green Embers)

D: You call it honor, but I would say it is integrity. It would not have allowed me to challenge my fate, even if I had wanted to. I did not want to, A. The gods touched my soul – it was my privilege to receive the training necessary to use their gifts. I was born with the responsibility to lead, and it was an honor to fight at the side of my brother and father in defense of our people.

Although, I will say that I veered from the path the gods decreed more often than I care to admit – I am human, failingly so. Yet, even my wanderings were necessary to becoming the man gods insist I become.

A: Indeed –  frankly, you left me exhausted after I wrote just a fraction of you story. You’re a little intense, D. But, I have a question.

D: Just one?

A: How do I fit into this path of yours?

D: I’m still fairly certain you’re my punishment for some slight against the gods, although its origins continue to elude me.

A: Nice.

D: I do my best. But enough about me, what did you want to be when you grew up?

A: Indiana Jones.

D: . . .

A: Hey, you asked.

D: Indeed I did – and with that, folks, we bid you a fond adieu. It’s A’s birthday today, and I’m sure she’s going to post some of her hijinks on that twittering bird and friendly facebooking – keep a weather eye on the horizon, and it will all be over soon!

A: Cheers, D. And thank you all for reading – have a great weekend!


For The Daily Post’s prompt: Futures Past.

Honourary Dilettante Contest Update – Reviews, etc…

Click the link for an update on the Honorary Dilettante Contest!

Dancing in the Mind of the Beholder

This is for two WordPress Daily Prompts, yesterday’s: Mind Reader, and today’s: Game of Groans


I see a lot of people. I work in customer service, and moonlight in reception. It’s a people-palooza.

But this person – this person sparked my imagination.

We’ll call her Joan.


Our reception area looks nothing like this - I kind of wish it did, however. Photo courtesy Google images, marked for noncommercial reuse.

Our reception area looks nothing like this – I kind of wish it did, however. Photo courtesy Google images, marked for noncommercial reuse.

Oh my gosh, what am I doing? The door is locked – the door is always locked.

Did she see me yanking on the handle like an idiot? I hope not.

Damn, she’s opening the door. She saw.

I play with the keys in my hand and give the receptionist what I hope is a grateful grin.

“Thanks – I bet you have to do that a lot. Must be kind of fun watching people fumble.”

She gives me a noncommittal shrug. Is she French?

“It’s cruel,” she says. Definitely not French.  “People shouldn’t have to think that hard before they even get into work. By the way, I like what you did to your hair.”

My hair? She noticed my new haircut? I’ve only been here three days. How does she notice my hair? I bet she’s trying to make me feel better about forgetting the door is locked.

“My advice—“

Holy cow, she’s still talking. I must have really looked like a moron. Oh wait, I was staring at her for noticing my hair. Is my mouth open?

“Carry a lot of bags with you – I always open the door for bag carriers.”

She motions with her handy-dandy door-opener. I don’t even know who it is that’s coming through the door – I haven’t had my tour yet – but he’s got a ton of bags.

Like grocery bags. Like, he must be feeding his entire department from those bags.

I eye the receptionist and she nods at me.

Like magic, the doors open. Bag-holder-guy waltzes in.

I stare. “Bags?”

She nods back solemnly. “Bags.”

Huh. This might be worth pursuing. Go on. Talk to her. Be able to tell your mother you’ve actually made a friend.

“So, how about that “Dancing with the Stars” finale, huh?”

I’m not sure, but I think she’s developed a twitch. “Was it good?” she asks.

Was it good? Was it good?! It was the most spectacular show ever. That team nailed every single one of their routines all season! Was it good??!!

“Don’t you watch?”

“I don’t watch TV – although, I think I’ve seen an episode or two a few years ago.”

“Well, do you like music?”


“Do you like dancing?”

“I always wanted to learn ballroom – I’m just not a fan of the confessional, reality TV show side of it.”

“It’s not nearly as bad as “American Idol” – and you can, I don’t know, read a book or do your laundry when they’re telling-all if you want to. You really should watch.”

Her resolve is crumbling. I can tell. She’s an agreeable sort – either that or she just wants to get me out of her face. Ha! Not going to happen. This will teach her to be nice to newbies.

“I mean it. You should watch. I tell you what – if I can remember to swipe my key fob for the rest of the summer, you have to watch a season.”

“But I–”

“You can watch it online.”

Ha. That got her.

”All right. But you can’t take advantage of the bag thing – that’s cheating.”


Look at that – it’s not even 8:30 and I’ve made a new friend and got a convert to DWTS. Not bad for the new girl.


D: None of that actually happened, did it?

A: Not exactly.

D: There’s no Joan, is there?

A: Not really – Joan is an amalgamation of a few people I see from my perch in reception. This was all for the WordPress prompts for yesterday and today – write from a stranger’s point of view, and write a ‘pro’ piece about a bit of popular culture you don’t actually like.

D: You don’t like “Dancing with the Stars?”

A: Not really – The dancing’s okay—

D: Okay? Okay?! A, the dancing is phenomenal – taking stars that might have 2 left feet and turning them into dancing machines is a joy to watch.

A: If you say so – I prefer scripted drama to the reality TV/human variety, however.

D: I don’t think I know who you are anymore, A.

A: Really?

D: Joan was right. You need to watch. And not just when the new season comes on. You need to watch right now.

A: But I – But Joan —

D: Now.

A: Oh boy. Put the salad tongs down, D. We’ve talked about this.

D: Will you watch?

A: You know those aren’t really threatening, don’t you?

D: Will you watch?

A: (Eye roll) Oh for heaven’s sake, yes. I’ll watch. But I’m making no promises that I’ll like it – or continue to watch.

D: That’s okay, then.

A: (Sigh) The things I put up with in order to have an agreeable muse and blog topics. . .

D: Admit it. You’d be bored without me.

A: I’d have salad tongs without you.

D: . . .

A: Whatever I say, it’s just going to go straight to your head, so can we just bid the good people adieu?

D: Ha! You admitted it!

A: Stop looking smug. Thank you all for stopping by, and have a wonderful holiday weekend, everyone!

Not-So-Shocking Adventure: Hugh Knows? The Druid Knows

adventureswithD-final (1)D: Does this pompadour make my head look funny?

A: . . . You know, of all the words I expect to come out of a 1300-year-old Pict’s mouth, those were not them.

D: That’s nice, A. You haven’t answered my question though.

A: What are you doing?

D: Trying out a new hairstyle.

A: And what’s that on your hands?

D: Oh, these? These are claws.


Claw Salad Tongs – Rarely used, because The Boy is often using them as Wolverine claws.

A: No, I think those are my salad tongs.

D: Okay, they’re salad tongs – I just wanted to see what it would look like.

A: Just wanted to see what ‘what’ would look like, D?

D: Claws.

A: Just when I think I understand you. . .

D: You could never understand my excellence fully, A. It would take more lifetimes than you have to live.

A: Really?

D: Indeed. Besides, I’m not sure how you can cast stones. Who is the one running around talking on the interwebs, and coining such charming phrases as “madcap recap?” You are ridiculous, woman.

A: Thank you (and click the link to the 6th installment of the Not-So-Shocking News Dialogues at Green Embers Recommends to find out just what D is talking about). I take it this is yet another attempt to discover the actor to match your, ah, excellence?

D: Indeed.

A: So, men with claws and pompadours? While you can be beastly in temperament–

I'm really not going to argue with this choice...

Um, okay. This can be the voice of D.

D: Funny, A. The claws are not a requirement, however I think the man that wore them for the silver screen might capture my wounded warrior spirit quite beautifully. He’s not just any beast – he’s a Hugh Jackman beast.

A: Hm. . . I really don’t want to argue with that one, but you do realize that it’s the actor’s job to give life to your voice, not your job to look like the actor, right?

D: Oh, well, uh . . .

A: Unless of course, you’ve taken up moonlighting as an impersonator. In which case . . .

D: Yes?

A: Lose the salad tongs.

Living Musically: On the Willows Edition

The Boy in all his sparkly glory. There are even black sequins running down the side of his trousers.

The Boy in all his Godspell (or is that Godsparkle?) glory on opening night. It’s the only photo he’ll let me post yet – everything else is embargoed!

A: I’m not a particularly religious person–

D: No kidding, A. Heathens are more religious than you.

A: Ahem. . .

D: Sorry.

A: Of course, Godspell isn’t what I consider religious.

D: You mean, aside from the parable-base storytelling, the crucifixion and the whole, you know, Jesus-thing?

A: (Eye roll) Yes, D, despite all that. I do think it has a wonderful message, and I especially like that it tells that message without all the other trappings that can to get in the way.

D: Are you really going to ruminate on religion and Godspell. . . .again?

A: No on the first part – this is so not that kind of blog.

D: And the second?

A: Oh come on, D! Godspell is the only thing The Boy currently allows on the iPod when we’re together.

D: The only thing? Really?

A: Okay, he may have also discovered Commentary!, the musical soundtrack to Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog:

(Thank you, oh-so-much, Jesus, for introducing that to him. Of course, since The Boy insists on being Jesus’ mini-me, and since Jesus played Jean Valjean once, I may finally be able to watch Le Misérables – as trade-offs go, I’m good with it).

D: I’ve just realized why you need me around.

A: . . . This is going to be interesting. Pray tell, why is that, D?

D: You speak in parentheticals. Confusing parentheticals. All the time! Even your music choices this week are disjointed and not appropriately, nor punningly, set-up.

A: Is punningly a word?

D: No. But it works all the same.

A: Indeed. So, what’s your point, Druid?

D: I am obviously here, in part, to present your words in something resembling logical order.

A: This from the time traveler, for whom logical order—

D: A . . .

A: Okay, okay, I can accept that. What’s the other part?

D: Brilliance. Sheer and utter brilliance. In fact, you can’t stop this brilliance.

A: Oh yeah? Well . . . um . . .

D: Yeah, what have you got, A?

A: I don’t have anything—

D: Ha!

A: –Except majesty!

D: I think that’s cheating.

A: How is that cheating?

D: I’m not certain, but give me a few moments, and I’m sure I’ll come up with something.

A: I wouldn’t bother. Majesty always wins, and we have got to go – I have to find some waterproof eye makeup, so I can prepare myself to weep-I mean watch the last three shows this weekend!

This one gets me every single time. The last show on Sunday is going to be a killer.

D: You big softie.

A: Says the cat-man warrior.

D: Oi!

A: And on that note, we bid you all a fond good-day – have a great Friday and an excellent weekend everyone!