Refracted Neurons

A few weeks ago, my husband offered to watch the kids while I went to the workout room at the community center.  Everything was fine, until I drove up to the building.  Do you know what's next to the community center?  A library .  Now don't get me wrong, I regularly go to the library, I just spend all my time in the children's section.  I stopped even trying to go in the adult section after one of my kids flung himself at a librarian while yelling about wanting to touch her computer.  So as you can imagine, being able to stare at books in silence is a huge temptation. After working out, I rewarded myself by taking a slow, leisurely walk through the non-fiction section.  Ten minutes later, I emerged with this: With that exact look on my face . . . Thomas Rid's  Rise of the Machines !  As you can imagine, I was hoping for lots of creepy robots taking over the world. Well, that didn't happen; I guess probably because the book's non-fiction?  Sigh. H

Grief:Peripheral The flicker of bluish light filters out what is missing; there is only one set of boots by the door, an apple sits on the counter uneaten, and even if you don’t make a sound, the notch in your heart is nothing personal. ____________________________ Yeah, I know I said no poetry, but I lied. From The Culling, because what girl doesn't dream of  owning a library with a ladder?  I just posted the last chapter of The Bond, which I'm not 100% satisfied with.  It is the end of this novella, but the story continues in the next book of the series.  One of my biggest problems is I don't have a title for the next novella.  The working title was "The Break," which doesn't really work.  If you have an idea or two, throw 'em in the comments.  

I know what you're thinking: Really?  Another blog post about the tombstone you found laying on the side of the road? Well, yes.  And it just keeps getting weirder. As you may remember, last week I said I needed to get permission from the landowners to remove the stone from their property; assuming they didn't want to keep the tombstone.  I talked to my mom about this and she suggested that I check out the County Assessor's website, since they list who owns what property.  All of it is listed by address, and I didn't know the address.  To get a better idea of which plot of land it was, I opened up Google Maps and virtually strolled down the street.  The images were from a few years ago, so the lot I was looking for would look nothing like it does today.  I was trying to decide if this house was the right one or not, when suddenly I saw it. Do you see it? Let's take a closer look at the picture: It's the tombstone! As ridiculous as this is, it

Little did I know, finding a tombstone would teach me some very strange things about the city that I live in and death in general.  To recap, last week I found a tombstone laying on the side of the road in front of a construction site. Like I mentioned in my last post, my mom is really into genealogy.  She looked up the names on the stone and found that the people listed were buried at Comet Lodge Cemetery. Wait!  What?  Really?  This Comet Lodge? After finding this out, I had a bit of a fire lit under my behind.  I was sure someone would want to put this stone back where it belonged.  I emailed the organization who was responsible for reconstructing Comet Lodge and got no response.  Then I messaged a similar group on Facebook.  They suggested contacting a local cemetery.  So I finally got some answers, but they were not really what I expected. First of all, don't be surprised if you find a tombstone in a weird place in Seattle.   I guess it's pretty common, a littl