Memories of Santas & Shotguns
A Wicked Fun Time at Hotspur O'Toole's 3rd Rez Day party!! Many thanks to DJ Freq! for the fantastical playlist and to the Boys in the Backroom (Murakami and Huszar) for the Reindeer skeet shooting game. And thanks to everyone who join us for the silliness - you made the party what it was. :-D
***Countess Rosebud and I thoroughly enjoyed making these together last night. ***
Kahlua Brownies with Buttercream Frosting and Chocolate Glaze
Yields 36 brownies
INGREDIENTS FOR CRUST:
1/3 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
5-1/3 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
2/3 cup all-purpose flour, sifted
1/2 cup finely chopped pecans
INGREDIENTS FOR FILLING:
2 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1/4 cup solid vegetable shortening
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 large eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup Kahlua
1/2 cup all-purpose flour, sifted
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup chopped pecans
INGREDIENTS FOR BUTTERCREAM FROSTING:
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 cups sifted powdered sugar
1 tablespoon Kahlua
1 tablespoon heavy whipping cream
INGREDIENTS FOR GLAZE:
2 ounces semi-sweet chocolate
1 ounce unsweetened chocolate
2 teaspoons solid vegetable shortening
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 9-inch square baking pan. Cream sugar and butter until light and fluffy. Slowly add flour and continue to mix until blended. Add pecans. When completely combined, press crust into bottom of prepared pan. Set aside.
Combine chocolate, shortening, and butter in a small saucepan over low heat. Stir until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth. Cool. Combine eggs, sugars, and vanilla in a large bowl. Mix until blended. Stir into cooled chocolate mixture. Add Kahlua. Slowly add flour and salt, mixing until batter is smooth. Stir in pecans. Pour filling into prepared crust. Bake 25 minutes, or until tester inserted in center comes out clean. Be careful not to over bake. Let cool.
Buttercream Frosting: Cream butter, sugar, Kahlua, and cream in a small bowl until smooth and creamy. Spread over cooled filling mixture and refrigerate 30 minutes. More Kahlua may be added to make spreading easier (yes, that's the reason.....easier spreading...yes) . For a less sweet brownie, use half of Buttercream Frosting.
Glaze: Melt chocolates and shortening over low heat, stirring constantly. Cool and drizzle over Buttercream Frosting.
Miss Ariesse Heart
Miss Heart, Mr. Ghost, and Lady Eva
Miss Heart and Mr. Ghost
An Enthusiastic Crowd
Miss Reghan and Miss Tehanu
Miss Hypatia
A little "postcard" featuring some of the Holiday events I attended in Caledon and Winterfell this weekend.
Well sometimes she makes this:
Almost ready......One of my most treasured possessions is the small leather-bound journal my mother kept. Her tiny, meticulous handwriting fills the entire book. This particular journal was kept during the period of my childhood, which is likely why I enjoy it so well.
Opening it, the scent of leather, old paper, and a faint scent of vanilla fill the air around me. The red ribbon bookmark is in entry dated Christmas Morning the year I turned 11.
Laying there in the warmth of the fire, I listened to his slow, steady breathing. I smiled to myself as the breathing turned a bit gravel-like. Soon the hearty snoring would start. Over the years the sleep-filled noises of that oft-broken nose have become dear to me. How many years has it been anyway? Three? Twelve? Twenty? In my drowsy, dreamlike state, it was difficult to remember exactly.
I looked over at him laying beside me on the blanket he had laid in front of the fire in the parlor of Caisteal Teanacadh. This has been our tradition for many years . Yes....it has been many. Each Christmas Eve that we have the good fortune to be in our own home that is. Once Eva has been snugly tucked into her bed with many quilts and one of Jamie's plaids draped over her (She has to have his plaid each night, she says because "it smells like Da - full of sunshine, earth, and hard work." From the mouth of babes...) we settle ourselves in the parlor. Jamie builds the fire up with wood and peat as I pour the whisky and serve him a Christmas cookie or two.
Each year, we dream together on this special night. We will have gone to Christmas Eve Mass with the family earlier in the evening, which inevitably fills us both with such joy and hope that we can't but help thinking about what the future may bring even as we list the things that we are most thankful for from the waning year. What will we be doing? Where might we travel together? Will Eva continue to grow as strong in both body and mind as she seems to be doing? When will we start her training in whisky making? or sword play?
"Sword play!?!" I teased Jamie earlier.
"Aye, Sassenach, sword play. She is mine. Nay doubt canna be when one looks at her - red hair flying in the wind, a few freckles speckling her dear face, the blue and gold of her eyes. Even the way she carries herself when she walks or rides. But the shape of her eyes and her lovely mouth, those are yours, mo chride."
At this he caressed my lips and began whispering in Gælic to me. Words of love and endearment. Words that I rarely, if ever, heard from other men regardless of language - and spoken in such a manner that my skin warmed and flushed without any physical effort on his part or mine.
The discussion of her education in the finer points of swordplay would wait.
And now I sit here at my little writing table in the first light of dawn watching him again as he sleeps the deep sleep of someone safe and loved. Honestly, I think the man could sleep anywhere/anytime. But he never sleeps very deeply save when he is in his own home by his own fire feeling the love of his family.
He is my gift. A gift given to me completely unexpectedly years ago on a winter's night . A gift I shall treasure all my days - and beyond.
And now the bells of the kirk are ringing - announcing Christmas morning. Merry Christmas, indeed!
I'm am so pleased invite you to the ballroom of my home, Caisteal Teanacadh, on December 20th to listen to a concert* of sacred choral Christmas music by Miss Ariesse Heart - or rather, her human.
Miss Heart's guiding spirit began piano and theory lessons at the age of five, and wrote her first song at the age of twelve. Her first octavo was published twenty years later. In 1992, she became a full-time composer and arranger and now has over 1,500 published works. Over twelve million copies of her songs have been purchased in their various venues, and she has been a recipient of the ASCAP Special Award for the last 19 years.
In addition to her choral music for church and school choirs, her songs appear on thirty albums (four of which have been Dove Award Finalists) and numerous children's videos, including sixteen songs on four gold videos, and four songs on one multi-platinum video.
Her songs have also appeared on such diverse television shows as "The 700 Club" and HBO's acclaimed series "The Sopranos."
I feel so fortunate that Miss Heart has agreed to spend time with us here in the Isle of Skye, Winterfell Anodyne, Second Life, sharing her music. We will all have a chance to chat with Miss Heart during the concert as well as after the music has ended. Unlike RL composer/conductor educational moments, which must take place either before or after the music, the platform of a virtual world gives us all the opportunity to use text to ask and answer questions while the music plays all around us.
Please join me for this special holiday time together. I look forward to the opportunity to introduce you to Miss Heart, and for you to learn more about the brilliant and lovely woman behind the avatar.
*pre-recorded
Statue of St. Andrews by Duquesnoy
I hope you will enjoy a few selections by Scottish poets through the ages that I have been reading of late.
We had a wonderful time dancing, battling, and having all kinds of silly fun while Frequency played an ecclectic and excellent list of music!
Our often shy trio of shipbuilders, MrBunwah, Justinian, and Nowwer (who is usually the silent partner) even seemed to have a great time showcasing their toy ironclads, blowing things up, and (gasp!) even dancing. :)
Many more years of success to you, young gents!!
We are ushering in the 3rd year of Murakami Steamworks! Hard to believe that the Boys in the Backroom, as they are affectionately known by the Wrath Fleet, have been hard at work bringing more ironclad fun than you can shake a duchess stick at for two years.
TWO YEARS!
Congratulations, Justinian Huszar and MrBunwah Murakami!
Frequency Picnic is going to be spinning the tunes.
We have dances, an open bar, their RC Ironclad game (which totally rocks!), an alligator, explode-y things, and much more.
Here is the Isle of Skye skyplat slurl.
Come as you like! We just want to be silly, have fun, and celebrate the work of J and MrB as Murakami Steamworks continues to grow and succeed.
Feeling a bit romantic....and singing this song for the last several hours.
(photos taken at the Blue Mermaid during the Dark Cabaret event)
Skeletal...um.....chicken? (Podruly Peccable)
Vulpine Eldrich as the Headless HorsewomanDarkness
by Lord Byron
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum’d,
And men were gather’d round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain’d;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish’d with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil’d;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look’d up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d
And twin’d themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour’d,
Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur’d their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer’d not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak’d up,
And shivering scrap’d with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other’s aspects—saw, and shriek’d, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp’d
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before;
The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the Universe.
Dark Cabaret
The Rez Day Girl and her shoulder Ringtail.
The Luchadora Lemur of Skye
The Autumn Fairy
by Celticpoet
The Autumn fairy weaves her spell
Spreads out her cloth of gold
Adorns the fields and woodlands both
With the riches of days so old
She makes the plants and flowers bloom
Displaying Nature's glory
For soon cold Winter's dismal gloom
Will tell a different story
Among the Rocks
by Robert Browning
Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth,
This autumn morning! How he sets his bones
To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet
For the ripple to run over in its mirth;
Listening the while, where on the heap of stones
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet.
That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;
Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows.
If you loved only what were worth your love,
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:
Make the low nature better by your throes!
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!
Ode To Autumn
by John Keats
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
*All photos taken on the Isle of Skye, Winterfell Anodyne. Eva Bellambi as the Færie of Autumn Skye.*
Again, my most sincere thanks to all involved in our Second Annual SL Boobie-Thon events!
p.s. to spend a bit more time browsing the photos - feel free to go see my Flickr album.
There are far too many of you to thank for generosity of spirit and pocketbook to do so by name, but I send a heartfelt thanks to all of you who were able to attend our (and/or donate at) BoobieBalls! When I left the second event this afternoon, I left with the knowledge that over the last 2 days you have donated 1100.00 USD!
All of that money is heading to the Susan G. Komen Foundation via the Blogger Boobie-Thon!
Thank you, lovely Seneschelf, for being such a wonderful partner in our Second Life Boobie-Thon efforts!!
And thanks to Stormy Mefusula and Mollie Braxton, who are the Chief Boobie Officer and a fellow photo editor respectively.
The wonderful vendors with fantastical items for sale in support of Boobie-Thon will remain at the event site until October 7th. Pray do go have a look and make your purchases without delay!
Also - Don't forget to join us for the Limerick Contest on October 7th at 6:30pm SLT!!
The gorgeous location for the balls.
View from above the venue in Winterfell
Eva and Serra fight breast cancer with humor and irreverence!After posing for some pictures for Boobie-Thon (images of me and Miss Serra to be seen at a later date :-D ) last night, I made my way to Steelhead and the Hobo Roller Disco Party hosted by Frequency Picnic and Hotspur O' Toole. It was a great time!
I went for a Farrah-like look (that was some BIG hair) and was surrounded by hobos, jaegers, furries, and other humanoids all dressed in flowers, swirls, and plaids. Lots of Afros to be found...but even more fun.
It was a pleasure to have the lovely Callipygian Christensen drop by towards the end of the night, too. I had not seen her in such a long time.
Stress is a fact of life. It is part of the natural order of things. Not all stress is bad, of course. Sometimes it is very stressful going up in one of the latest models of lighter than aircraft, but it is also fun despite the known risks that are causing one to feel tense and stressed.
In general, stress is related to both external and internal factors. External factors include the physical environment, one's job, relationships with others, one's home, and all the situations, challenges, difficulties, and expectations one is confronted with on a daily basis. Internal factors such as physical health, emotional well being, mental health, and how rested one is will contribute to how well one responds to the external stressors.
For those of us in virtual environs the in-world tension producing stressors can sometimes become quite overwhelming or debilitating in and of themselves. Add to those the demands and stresses of real life, and one has the making of quite a drama or disaster.
Despite all the growth in the Steamlands of SL, the communities remain relatively close knit. Many of us not only communicate in world, but also on any number of social networking sites. This can increase our chances of talking with and enjoying one another, but can also increase the distribution of hurtful, painful comments - fueling stress and problems. The flip side to this is that we can be quite a support group for one another.
Fortunately the number of outlets for this stress are legion in SL. Find what you like to do and relieve that tension. Like to create content? To build? To tell stories? Go for it! Like to dance, strip, make a little whoopie? SL's got all that, too. Feel like smelling of smoke, cordite, steel? Feel like blowing the daylights out of someone or their ship? We can manage that, too! And DO most every Thursday night.
Those of you who know me well, understand that I am generally quite even keeled. It takes a lot to provoke me. I will calmly work my way to a happier place if at all possible. I am a glass half full kind of person. But I am also a realist. Sometimes things just are what they are and there is no improving them. What can sometimes really take the edge off of RL and SL stress is to participate in the Ironclad battles.
Nix Sands, Amplebeak Tinlegs, and I watch the first round
After changing back into human form, Nix makes his airship ready.
Jed, MrB, Linus, Hotspur, Caladon, and I watch as Magdelena sets her flamethrower to the task.
Mags and her flame thrower
Lunar, Caladon, and Riven
'Splody things!!
Cannon wielding ladies
Nabila and I jig with glee!
Come on punk. Make my day."What time is that?" you ask.
Time for the annual Blogger Boobie-Thon.
So now is the time that my real life persona begins creating her poses for the Thon and the cameraman gets the lighting and sets ready. The real me has also volunteered some time to help Boobie-Thon organizers, too.
This will be the second year that Seneschelf, Serra Anansi, and I have supported Boobie-Thon with in world activities. Last year was such a grand success.
This year we'll be doing a bit more for the cause. An entire week of activities during the week of the Blogger Boobie-Thon, October 1-7, 2009.
There will be details coming out in multiple blogs and other venues, but allow me to at least share the following with you for now.
A little detail on the Limerick Contest. This particular event will focus on education related to men with breast cancer. The main event will showcase the limerick talent of 5 gentlemen in SL in three themed rounds. Those who wish to be judges for this contest need to send Eva Bellambi a notecard with a bid (donation) of at least L500. The top three bidders will be chosen. After the Main Event, there will be a limerick melee. Anyone desiring to enter will notify Eva Bellambi in world during the event. The winner will be determined by popular vote (Lindens donated on his/her behalf).
