richelle-e-goodrich

Family gathersto share good noise and good food.Gratitude abounds.

Oh, how terribly backwards, and yet sadly common, it is to sit scowling at family all the day long and then quickly put on a smile for strangers who drop by.

I always envisioned myself as traveling the ocean of life in a rowboat where my mother was one oar and my father, the other. Having two good, solid oars made rowing much easier.

There should ne__r be a timeWhen a duty or dimeDoth outshineThe importance of family.

Imagine fantasy and pretend as neither fantastical nor pretended.....and then believe it.

I survive on moments of make-believe happiness.

Reality and fantasy are not two separate spheres but one whole. They are like a world's atmosphere__eality behaving as a low front, fantasy a high front. Each remains somewhat distinguishable and yet they swirl and join, affecting and manipulating the other. One cannot perceive where reality ends and fantasy begins, but life would grow stagnant and die without the influence of both.

How crazy it would be if the moon did spin and the earth stood still and the sun went dim!How absolutely ludicrous if snakes could walk and kids could fly and mimes did talk!How silly it would be if the nights were tan and the mornings green and the sun cyan!How totally ridiculous if horses chirped and spiders sang and ladies burped!How shocking it would be if the dragons ruled and the knights were daft but the fish were schooled!How utterly preposterous if rain were dry and snowflakes warm and real men cried!I love to just imagineall the lows as heights,and the salty, sweet,and our lefts as rights.Perhaps it is incredibleand off the hook,but it all makes sensein a storybook!_

Some books mirror reality while others are entirely fantasy. My favorite are those that manage to weave both into a world.

She imagined him leaning against the shuttle, entertaining thoughts of scolding her for dressing like a ragged commoner. Never mind that her present outfit was light years ahead in comfort.(Actually, he__ wishing he had been less critical of you earlier. He feels bad that you won__ acknowledge his presence, and he blames himself.)(Quit it, Ian. I__ not going to feel sorry for him.)She caught her protector__ shrewd grin, highlighted by the fire__ glow. (You already do, Queenie.)(This talent of yours is really annoying.)He leaned close to her ear and whispered, __hat__ not what you thought earlier when you wanted to get ahold of Efren._ __ne tiny rosebud in a handful of thorns,_ she retorted.

I hate you, Edgar. I hate you with all my heart.

Thank you,_ I managed to say.Replying with a nod, he approached my horse. __ere, let me help you___ slipped down myself before he could lend a hand, keeping the fur hide in my possession. ____ not suddenly incapable because I wear a dress, Thaddeus.___ wasn__ suggesting_._ Wisely, he let the issue drop.Lifting an arm, he offered it to me. That__ when I noticed my sword in sheath belted to his waist.__hat__ mine!_ I declared, reaching for the hilt.Thaddeus managed a quick side-step. He hardened his jaw at my look of incredulity. I would only wait momentarily for an explanation. __ know the sword is yours, Catherine, everyone knows that. But you__e too beautiful tonight to ruin that radiant look with an ugly, leather belt strapped about you.__ was starting to think the man was using compliments as a weapon to defend himself against me. It did work to temper my anger somewhat.__ brought the sword as a cautionary act, just in case those nasty werewolves show up. Seeing how I__l be standing beside you all evening, the blade will be at your disposal if needed.__ accepted his reasoning and stood down. __esides,_ Thaddeus added, apparently feeling safe, __hat__ yours is mine now anyway.__ glared at the fool. __hat works both ways, you know.__e rolled his eyes and shrugged. __f it must.__gain, he offered me his arm which I grudgingly accepted.

Eena worried to Ian in her thoughts. (You__e not going to let him walk away thinking what I think he__ thinking, are you?)(You won't change his mind. The evidence is a little suggestive. You should have just stayed behin

Stop tormenting Derian.___e?_ Edgar gaped at her with a clearly fake look of innocence.__es, you.___nd what about you? When will you stop tormenting him?_ Edgar moved past the young queen to approach the unmoving captain. He circled the man as though he were checking out a statue on display ____ not tormenting him; why would you say that?___ou have the poor guy believing you actually intend to marry him._ Edgar stopped to fix the captain__ collar, raising it up high and stiff around his

Eena turned aside, breathing shallowly as her mind raced with questions. She was glad he couldn__ read the confusion that swooped her up like a passing tornado. Was it even possible to genuinely love more than one man? Yes. Oh, yes.She knew it because her heart irrefutably felt it. She loved Derian; it was true. She wasn__ trying to convince herself of it, no matter what Edgar said. She yearned deeply for her captain. But she loved Ian too. She always had. Only she purposefully, appropriately, had set those feelings aside when he made the decision to pursue Angelle. But Angelle was gone now. No, Eena thought to herself, this changes nothing. She scolded her heart for longing for something spent and ended, for even considering the possibility. Her with Ian? No, no, it had to remain in the past.

Such a nasty bruise,_ he says, staring straight into my eyes. I am stunned he can see it. Delicate to the touch and tender on every side, the bruise is deeper than days. My hand automatically moves to my chest.Science taught me with valid assurance that my heart was fixed in my rib cage, but life has since shown me otherwise. My heart in fact dangles from a tangle of strings. The ends are grasped tight by numerous people who yank and release, having caused many painful bruises over time. I cry because they are invisible to most.__uch a nasty bruise,_ he repeats, tugging on my poor heart. His kind eyes fall away from mine as I feel a squeeze on my arm. He twists it enough to show me a small, round patch of purple surrounded by a sickly yellowish corona. __h. My elbow._ I let the air exhale from my lungs. Another bruise forms where my heart has hit the floor. It is jerked up again. __an I do anything for you?_ I see in his eyes the mirror image of a finger__is finger__rapped in one of the dangling strings. He tugs and I feel it.__o,_ I reply to his question. But it is a lie. There is something he could do, along with all who grasp a portion of the web entangling my heart. I wish they would mercifully let go.

The ears and the heart are connected, it__ true,for when ears open wide, the heart opens up too.

Music is my enchanter, the seducer of my emotions, the fire and ice that moves me.