 The Shaffer Journal
Volume 11 † Issue 1 † January 2005
[Internet Stuff] [Hockey Puck] [Twins of the Dark Star]
[Poetry Corner] [The Dull Stuff] [Guest Articles] [In The Keys]
Kitty Talk
These journals are dedicated to Kitty GreyCat's spirit. She is at RainBow Bridge now along with her human friends, Leo and Doris. We all loved you, Kitty! Click the cat graphic to visit her Memorial page. Kitty born June 6, 1982. Died July 9, 1997. Please use our email form linked below to make suggestions or offer praise. >^..^<  Ebony: Me and Abby had a wonderful Christmas. We got special cat milk, a chirping bird thing, and a catnip toy to bat around. I would rather sleep in a nice warm place. >^..^<
Abby: Eb, you are right about that. I like to sleep with human bean, because he warm. When the temperature was 55, I really got close to human bean to get warmer. You did too. >^..^<
Ebony: I sleep with the niece and the brother bean off and on. They warm too. I still couldn't figure out that cat flap door thing. Human bean taped the door up, but I know he is going to put it back done. You go through the door without any problems at all. I'd rather play than do that door. >^..^<
Abby: Well, my beads are lots of fun to play with. Outside is lots of fun, when it is not so cold and windy. >^..^<
Ebony: I like to be outside the best of all things, but even I want back inside when it windy cold out. When I come inside, I got flea stuff put on me. I don't like that at all. Besides, fleas don't like the cold either. >^..^<
Abby: Meow, I run, run, run, when the flea stuff time comes, but human bean always finds me. I even tried to hide around all the Christmas decorations strung throughout the house. That didn't work very well either. >^..^<
Ebony: Abby, I was not impressed with all the Christmas decorations. When I was a kitten, it was exciting, but not anymore. I would rather be helpful. I helped bean when he was so sick and all. He had a nasty fever. >^..^<
Abby: Ebony, I help bean when he was sick too. It was fun, because he was warmer than normal. I even got to stay in human bean's lap a lot, because he wasn't up and about so much while he was sick. Laps are good. >^..^<
Ebony: I prefer my spot on top of the office chair. I can watch everything from up there. You can't bother me either. I can spread out and get really comfortable. I am the queen of the world on top of that chair. >^..^<
Abby: You full poppy of seeds, you is for sure. I think a warm basket of bean clothes that just came out of the dryer is so much better. I can lay in the clothes, sucking up the heat and all that. You can't even fit in the laundry basket, because you got so big and fat. Human bean even had to buy weight management cat food for you. >^..^<
Ebony: Just because you full of energy and cold doesn't mean I can't be as energetic as you. I'm not fat either. I am just fully of myself with lots of fur. You got a belly too, so don't meow so much. Abby, use a bad cat. >^..^<
Abby: You got chin pimple, you do. I like the niece bean better than you too. I know you like the brother bean, but he talks too loud for me. Ebony, you are so contrary. Next month, I am going to really tell your secrets. >^..^<
Internet Stuff
Here are the latest DVD films from http://www.NetFlix.com: The Chronicles of Riddick is the sequel to Pitch Black and even better. The film is more Science Fiction and very entertaining. Spiderman 2 was better than the first movie with more action and more plot. The Ladykillers was quaint and totally unexpected. This one is a good movie. Luther was a good film about the life and times of Martin Luther and how he shook up the world. Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story seemed like it would be silly, but it was actually quite funny. I, Robot is loosely based on the Asimov short stories of the same name. The story was focused and good Sci Fi. Interesting websites we visited recently: My e-statement came from my banks TIB in Florida and Chartway in Virginia. I got my 1099 tax form and a retirement newsletter from the military financial website. I renewed my antivirus and firewall subscription from Symantec, but the cost is going up. Fortunately, more and more of my bills can be paid online now. I can even got my photos online too. Claudia Dinkins sent us these Christmas very cute and funny links: http://www.fluffytails.ca/christmas.asp and http://www.thedailycat.com/cutecats/index.html
In The Keys
Christmas was particularly good this year. I don't mean that I had enough for gifts and such. I was thankful for that, but I had family with me. I had spent many a holiday alone and was fine with that. I did enjoy family being with me for Christmas. The gifts were okay, but the family celebration was better. We share so much. Our meetings at the American Legion, the fine conversation, and a great time just talking around the dining table. Family can certainly transcend so much of what goes on around us. The finest things in life are these. Miscellany: Life is a lots of small things. Boating is still great. We visited Molasses Keys, where the water was very cold. My niece played in the water with her friend anyway. I stayed in the boat. I also visited and enjoyed John Sawyer Bank, Rachel Key, and a new place for me called Bamboo Key. Our street, 42nd Street, finally got a new storm water system. Our little lane was repaved as well. Sunsets at Boot Key bridge show the final dregs of sunset, shinning orange and dusky blues with the water a mirror calm. Pretty soon I will be going to Nebraska to see all my children and grandchildren. I visited our very own emergency room and received excellent care for an exorbitant price. At least my military ID card saved me money on my exorbitant prescriptions. We had our monthly Middle Keys Community Land Trust board of director's meeting at Annette's Lobster and Steakhouse. I had always wanted to go there, but I was still sick. I went to the Key West VA lab and had my tests. I hope that I pass. My niece's sleepover resulted in our couch bed being busted. Kids should be outlawed and locked up. Finally: Did you know that Louisiana's state bird is the Brown Pelican? The flower is the Magnolia. The tree is the Bald Cypress. The capital is Baton Rouge. Statehood was granted April 30, 1812. Lastly, the Elena Jones Studio features a working artist creating unique custom artworks. This Key West studio is located at 201 William Street #106. They are open daily during the evenings. Their telephone number is 305-295-7793. Call for more details. Poetry Corner
"Auburn Sun"
July 21, 2000
I've flown
To the farthest
Point of the sun
Auburn and sublime
Waves below
Gentle beat
Sparkling diamonds
Into the very air
Peaks raised
Above dusky canyon
Wings outstretched
Heart thuds fair
And the stars
Wink on in
Fresh summer
Breezes off the coast
Eyes see for
The first time
A blue moon
Full and glowing
Over yon horizon
Wings swept back
The mists meet me
Flying through peaks
But standing on the beach
Long ago back there
Is the boy and father
Hand in hand one last time © 2005 L. E. Shaffer Hockey Puck
The NHL is still locked out. The season most likely will not happen. Tiger Woods won the Target World Challenge. That is the second tournament in a row that he has won. He previously won a tournament in Japan. The NBA Miami Heat have won eleven in a row. Shaq makes everyone else better. The NFL is winding down to the Super Bowl, but has been mostly uninteresting. Haven't heard much from the WTA or the MLB lately. The Florida Marlins might be thinking of moving to Las Vegas, and the Washington Nationals will bring baseball to the nation's capital. The Daytona 500 is coming very soon in February, and I can't wait for the race to begin. Guest Articles
Stuff not written by us. As always everything is copyright of the author. Christmas Snippets
Santa Claus was on duty working a Department Store. A little girl sits on his lap and says, "I would like a new doll for Christmas." "I will add that to my list," replies Santa. "In the meantime, take a gift from the box."
A little boy climbs on Santa's lap and says, "I want a remote car for Christmas." Santa replies, "I will add it to the list--meanwhile, take a gift from the box."
Then a little boy climbs on Santa's lap and says, "I'm Jewish, and I am not allowed to ask for anything from Santa."
Santa points to the gift box and whispers in the boy's ear, "Nem tzvay." (take two) ---
On the first day of Christmas when I brought home my tree,
My 12 cats were laughing at me
On the second day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the third day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the fourth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the fifth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the sixth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the seventh day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the eighth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the ninth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the tenth day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the eleventh day of Christmas I saw beneath my tree,
11 broken branches
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me
On the twelfth day of Christmas I looked at my poor tree
12 cats a-climbing
11 broken branches
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
And my 12 cats still laughing at me... © 2005 Various authors, some unknown Group Novel
As an experiment and for fun, we are writing a group novel at our Area 52 forum. The first section is contained in the June 2004 magazine edition. The second section is contained in the July 2004 magazine edition. The third section is contained in the August 2004 magazine edition. The fourth section is contained in the September 2004 magazine edition. The fifth section is contained in the October 2004 magazine edition. The sixth section is contained in the November 2004 magazine edition. The seventh section is contained in the December 2004 magazine edition. The entire group novel is in a MS Word format. The eighth section is as follows: Zeena's complaint that Zybai was acting weird and being a brat as usual was met with hard stares, especially considering she was sitting on a lounge full of Ziha's broken pottery. Zybai fared no better: neither Ziha nor Zerkai believed that he had come home because he actually wanted to talk to Zeena. Their lifetime of rivalry, which had not improved with the discovery of Zybai's talents, spoke for itself—at least in their parent’s eyes. But both Zerkai and Ziha agreed that their two children should spend more time together…remaking the pottery that had been broken.
“But Zeena broke it, not me!” Zybai complained, and immediately regretted it. He had not meant to sound so childish. Attempting to salvage the situation, he added, with as much dignity as he could muster: “Besides, potting is for females!” The moment the words left his lips Zybai knew he had simply made things worse. His mother’s wide bright eyes narrowed, scornful and calculating. Meesa, one of the family’s atallats,** had the misfortune to wander, yawning, into the room and was immediately dispatched to Krilat to explain that Zybai would be busy make pots for a few days. Then Ziha sent her children off to the potting shed. “And mind you take the shards so you can match the patterns and colors,” Ziha told them.
They had barely started taking the carefully wrapped clay blocks down from the shelves when Meesa poked his head into the shed. “Councilor Krilat told me he is more than amenable to you missing your studies for a few days while you make pots,” the old atallat told Zybai. “He says it will do you good, in more ways than one.” Meesa looked a bit confused at the last statement but brightened quickly and wandered off saying: “Amenable…a-MEN-able,” clearly proud that he had learned a new word.
Zybai sighed, knowing full well that Krilat saw the punishment his mother had meted out as a form of character building. Krilat was always complaining that Zybai lacked character. “What do I need character for when my destiny is within the 14 paths?” Zybai grumbled to himself.
I watch helplessly as yet another pot spins into a soggy mess on the wheel. It is with envy and no small amazement I gaze at the neat row of newly turned pots Zeena has already produced, sitting in the sun to dry. Potting, like weaving and needlecraft, is considered more of an art form among the Anaraians upper class. Potters of the lower class turn out the more utilitarian, and more often broken, items: cooking pots, wine jugs, the tall urns that hold oil and water, in great quantities. But the pieces women like my mother form, while made to be used, are also made to be admired and treasured. I find myself with an unexpected respect for my sister. It never occurred to me that she could do anything at all, yet here she was creating vases and bowls of beautiful form as easily as one might pick a Pinuta.
I toy with the idea of the revenge I had been planning on my way home. A clod of wet clay thrown in Zeena’s face would do nicely. But no, that is not what I want, not even for her getting us into this mess. The moment I walked though the high arches of home and saw Zeena I knew I had really come to talk to her brother to sister, adult to adult. Well, almost adults.
Swallowing my remaining pride, I ask her to help me, to no avail. The art is not one that can be learned so quickly. Smugly Zeena puts me to blocking clay to replace the blocks we had used. Like a sai-atall I begin to grumble, and bite my tongue. I will not act like a child!
Blocking clay isn’t, I find, the most fun occupation in the world. Pick up the gooey mess of clay and slap it down on the plaster slab. Pick it up and slap it down again. And again and again until the water is absorbed into the plaster and the clay forms a neat block, ready to be wrapped for storage or placed on the wheel. I fall into the rhythm of it: lift and slap, lift and slap, falling into time with my sister’s humming and kick-spinning the wheel.
It feels right, somehow, natural yet almost dreamy. My muscles ache pleasantly. I pause after wrapping a block and watch Zeena spin a vase, the delicate shape springing from her hands as if by magic. “You make beautiful pots, Zeena,” I tell her. “Mother herself couldn’t do better.” She looks up angrily; sure I am teasing, then blushes when she realizes I am sincere. The smug smile returns to her face and she hums louder as she tends to her vase. “Thank you,” she whispers after a moment.
The next day we smooth the now-dried pots and paint on the glazes. I am pleased I show some small talent in painting the designs. I had never thought about trying my hands at any of the arts, the sculpting or carving or cabinetry that is the males’ domain. I had always been too busy studying or, as Krilat would say, dreaming. We reminisce, sitting there side by side, laugh about old times, events we remember, silly things we did. But as Mu’a falls low, we fall into silence. Suddenly Zeena asks: “What is it like, being the Kla’abai?” She turns and looks at me, all seriousness.
“It’s…exhilarating, amazing, scary…”
“So you like being famous.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement.
“Nooo, you know I always hated all that ceremony stuff! And the title is useless! I get no respect!”
Zeena laughs out loud, and I smile myself and shake my head. “It’s not about “being the Kla-abai.” I make quote signs with my mid-hands. “It’s the paths, and this puzzle I am destined to put together, and this…something, I am destined to do…”
“So you are destined? You truly believe that?”
For the first time, I realize I truly do. “Without question,” I reply. “And every day there is something new to learn, some little piece of the puzzle. Well, almost every day.” I look down at the bowl I’m smoothing.
“Are you not learning something new now?”
I look at Zeena, stunned, and my thoughts race.
The third day we load the pots into the kiln and I light the wood underneath. “Why do they have to be fired, anyway?” I ask, now genuinely interested in this strange new experience.
“So they get hard, silly,” Zeena laughs. “So they can be used for whatever purpose they were…destined.” She smiles mischievously. “A chemical reaction occurs when the heat penetrates the pots, hardening the clay and setting and bringing out the colors of the glaze.”
I didn’t even know that my sister knew what a chemical reaction was, but her words make my thoughts race again. Something went wrong when I entered the paths with the mirrored stone I found on the plains. I opened a gateway, but couldn’t enter. I wasn’t ready. I knew that then, and know it now. Perhaps I need to be “fired,” in some way, so that I will be ready, so I can hold the power, the energy, the songs, it will take to pass through a gate. Especially the gate. It comes to me for the first time that each gate I open and pass through will be a kiln of sorts, hardening me, readying me for the next, and the next, until I reach that final gate to the dark star that calls me.
Without realizing it I am fumbling for my heart stone. I set it carefully in the already hot kiln. I don’t know what will happen, I don’t know why I do it, I only know it is right, and important.
Zeena looks at me as if I have lost my mind. “You really are getting weirder all the time! But somehow, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She smiles with genuine warmth, and I smile back, knowing that we have learned something more important then even my destiny: we have learned to understand each other. I have a companion on my journey.
**atallat—a servant. The atallants are sometimes from among the lower classes of society, but more often are those Anaraians who had developed fully in body but not in mind—somewhat simple-minded and not suited for higher learning. The more feeble-minded of the atallants are called, by the unkind, “sai-atall,” meaning stupid, cloddish, idiot. The word is used as an insult by school children and the less cultured adults.
**sai-atall—a) a derogatory term for the more simple-minded atallats.
b) stupid, cloddish, idiot, dolt.
Zybai held the stone, feeling it getting hotter. He held onto Zeena’s mind. Then, suddenly, they were at the juncture of the fourteen paths, feeling the heaviness of the black star. The gravimetric forces permeated everything, even their thoughts and very spirits.
Zeena asked, mind to mind, “What do we do now?”
Zybai answered, “We sing the song of the fourteen paths. We try to link all fourteen dark stars to this one.”
Zeena looked around, using her mind’s eye. She noticed bright spots against the vast blackness of the dark star. “Zybai? What are those bright specks?”
Zybai felt surprise raise his heartbeat. He had known they were there, but never acknowledged those bright spots. He only had thoughts for the fourteen paths. How could he have missed the Earthling starships?
Zeena grew impatient with her younger sibling. “Well?”
Zybai answered, “They are starships from Earth. They are here to steal the life of this star. We must hurry. Sing the counterpoint to my songs.”
Zeena wanted to protest, but decided to follow her brother’s lead. After all, he had been here before. This was a first for her. What did she know? “Okay, begin and I will follow.”
The song started. The stone glowed, engulfing them with power. The dark star’s gravimetric forces surged, pushing the Earthling starships farther away. Zybai concentrated, even though things were happening that were counter to the normal sciences that he had been taught.
The song broke into songs. A blinding light surged through the fourteen paths. And the dark star sang back in answer. Zybai was astonished. He was so surprised that he missed a few important notes of the songs they were singing together. Everything returned to normal, except for the Earthling starships hundreds of lightyears distant now.
Zeena asked, “What is wrong?”
Zybai answered, “There were too many surprises. I couldn’t concentrate. But, Zeena, I would never have gotten this far without you. Would you like to help me again, next time?”
Zeena laughed, “Certainly, this is better than pots and shards.”
Zybai smiled mind to mind to his sister. “That is true. Let us go back and think about the songs that we must sing. We are getting closer. I am sure.” © 2005 L. E. Shaffer, Kim Young, Linda Hall Twins of the Dark Star
Book One Tears from Ao and three poetry collections, Pages of Life, Visions of Life, and Moments of Life are available electronically at http://RunesofAo.com/aobp/. The Runes of Ao project, Book Two The Mountains of Ao novel currently in final edit, Book Three Twins of the Dark Star novel in early stages, and The Book of Kalian Mysticism poetry collection are works in progress. Also a collaboration with K. Young on a novella called Dragon Embers is now published on the fan site known as Runes of Ao.com. The Dull Stuff
All opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect those of this magazine, company, or its advertisers. Inputs, email, suggestions, and letters to this journal are subject to approval by Ebony and Abby. Submittals may be edited for content and length and become the creative property for the one-time nonexclusive publication of: Shaffer Novels/Poetry Company
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www.RunesofAo.com/abby/ Publication date: December 28, 2004
Author: L. E. Shaffer
Company: Shaffer Novels/Poetry Company &
Shaffer Internet Publishing Company
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