I apologize, I'm not a very good blogger. I did manage to comment on some great posts on other blogs and I was going to put up a short ghost story, but I can't. Yet another family debacle, this time it's tuberculosis, aagh. I hope to have it posted later.

Eleemosynary

Eleemosynary... a good word that I can't shake this week. I wonder how charitable I am, how much do I do for others. Well, I buried a big ole hatchet with multiple family members and worked on a nice birthday bash for my grandma. I have hoards of young people in my home at any given time. I send my kid to one of the worst schools in the state on principle. I would think I'm fairly charitable, not for brownie points, I'm a service person. One teacher said I was stymied by working class principles. I wasn't offended, if I measure my worth by what I do in this world then I figure that's alright; there are far worse things I could be.

Why am I ruminating on my basic nature? Simple. I've gotten some feedback on Disparate Mercies and some people are questioning my sanity, or level of depression. Heehee, I'm fine, really I am. Death is not a big taboo for me, I've always seen it as the end of our journey. All things end, no reason to fret over the inevitable.

Now suicide or indirect suicide is woven into my reality. My father technically killed himself. I saw him only a few times a year, but still he was my father. I was not charitable, nor was I kind. I didn't even attend the funeral. Perhaps that is why I wonder if that adjective is appropriate now. I certainly hope it is.

Well, I have nothing really worth you guys reading so how about a part of Deciphering the Bloom that I may or may not be using, I still haven't found the rhythm for this yet.

Epilogue: Ivy

One year later…

David watched as Nicolao and Narisco disappeared under the water. He knew it was silly but his heart sank each time they dove. He blamed Pablo. If it weren’t for Pablo he would not be missing dulce de leche, or bife de lomo, or mate, or waiting for Nic to catch a fish.  Pablo owed his slightly better that the others fortune to his ties with a church from the states. He had never been rude, but none of the Evangelistas or Weaver warmed up to him. With only a few days left in Argentina, Pablo offered them a rare opportunity. He had access and permission to use some of their ancestral lands. They had all agreed, except Weaver, now he wished he’d stayed with that sad, sad Weaver. He wouldn’t have seen Narisco or Pablo or Francisco or Yago naked. 

Nicolao emerged grabbing in desperation at his net. Getting the fish in the net was not the hard part. It was keeping them there. He had lost count of how many had gotten away. Their cousins had caught enough for dinner, but he wanted to be able to say he caught his own; not with a fishing rod, but a net a reflexes. He grabbed the fish’s tale and couldn’t suppress his smile. Catching fish this way called to him, maybe he and Narisco could continue when they got home.

Nic joined David, this trip was not what any of them had in mind when they planned it, but Dee’s enthusiasm had not waned, until they reached their camp.

“Francisco offered to show us some basic foraging. Are you up for it?”

David shook his head, “I think Francisco’s idea of basic is more than I can handle. This is more than roughing it.”

“Dee if this is too—“

“Stop that. You’re having the time of your life. You like this, and I like it.  It’s so much more that Rosario. It’s that Francisco’s walk about may have you carrying me back to camp. You go, I’ll stay with Pop.”

Nicolao met his beloved’s eyes and gave him a look that promised to thank him later. He would have kissed him, but his hold his contribution to dinner prevented it. He added his fish to the pile his cousins had laying on fallen leaves and placed the scissoring fishing net with the others. He accepted the praise of Yago and Francisco on his catch. He strolled back towards David, water beads glistening on his brown skin. David cursed his semi and Pablo.

“Did we all have to get naked to go fishing?” David asked.

Nic shrugged, “When in Rome.” His cousins had begun to strip after he agreed to join them in fishing and he followed suit. For the children they had blocked off a small waterway and allowed them to spear the fish. Nerina and Nieves stayed with the children and were content with getting fish that way, but he wanted to try Pablo’s method.

“A little help,” Narisco called, bringing their attention to him. He was struggling with his catch a very large fish, intent on not staying in the net.  Nicolao went back in the water to assist his brother without hesitation.

David tried not to look, but it was impossible. There was no one as good looking as Nicolao, but Narisco was a compelling distraction. The two of them naked, wrestling fish; he cursed his eyes, his hard on and for good measure Pablo.

Narisco lost his footing, Nicolao reached for his brother’s arm, and the fish made its way to freedom. Nic helped his brother up and the pair came to shore. The joy from his catch evaporated as he registered Risco’s disappointment.

“That was the biggest catch of the day, damned impressive.” Nic said and threw his arm on his brother’s shoulder after he had put this net away.

“Impressively not caught.”

“We didn’t need it. Your fish by itself was more than enough to feed us all. It would’ve been a waste. Better it got away.”

Risco smiled at his brother. 

“Yeah, a waste,” he agreed. “I wish Nate was here, he’d love this.” Narisco said.

Sera and Nate pulled out of the family vacation when they received a surprise phone call. There would be a new addition to the family when they returned to the United States. Weaver needed a break from his marriage and begged to take Nate’s place.

“He would, I miss him too. They’ve gotten to be parents for weeks without any of us barging in; maybe that’s a good thing.  It’s their first child.”

Narisco nodded his head in agreement. Nicolao had gotten better about sharing time with David, but the strain of it showed on his older brother’s face from time to time. Nico shared in everything with everyone in the family, adding to joy, lightening loads, but now he had something of which he was loath to share. David.

David watched as the two brothers stood looking over on a view that was in danger of disappearing. They chatted. Naked. A small mercy was granted when they both deemed themselves dry enough to get dressed and joined their cousins.

Ma, jaryi Marita, Camila and Amets prepared the fish while Pops was content monitoring the fire and his wife. Hilaria and he had made a life and family, without much thought. He only knew he loved her and with that certainty he could make her happy. Natanaele knew he had. But watching her with Marita, her grandmother, he also knew his youthful goal had been foolish. Hilaria had been missing a piece of herself for all of those years. She had left it when she was taken away from her suffering people. Natanaele sympathized with Blas for insisting she leave the poverty of the tribe, but he had broken his daughter’s heart. In the midst of his musings Hilaria glanced at her husband and smiled. Natanaele shrugged, long past embarrassment for being caught staring at her. He would stare at her for a while more, because with the finding of her missing part she was all the more lovely.

 Nicolao glanced back at the camp as he followed his relatives into the dense forest. The Pampas of Argentina was flat and easy to navigate, but the outcropping of trees next to the waterway offered wildwood for exploration. 

Pablo took the lead of their small group. Yago was younger and friendlier than his father Pablo. He was eager to spend time with his cousins from North America. They stopped at a fallen tree and rolled it over. Yago gathered grubs putting them in his sling bag.

“These are fat, they should be tasty.”  The glance between the men who towered over him made him chuckled. “You afraid of bugs?”

“No, but we don’t eat them Yago?”

 “You ate plenty at my house.” Francisco offered.

With exaggerated motions Yago picked up a grub ate dropped it into him mouth.

Nicolao hesitated for a moment then reached his hand outward for a grub. What would be the harm? According to his first cousin they had been eating insects since they got there. 

The teen gave him smaller grub. “Tastes a little like eggs, but earthy.” Narisco followed his example and agreed it was not the worst thing he’d eaten.

“They taste better cooked.” Yago said, before straightening. 

The day continued in that manner. One of their Toba relatives would stop and point out what was edible or what they were using as Francisco stopped at a tree, wrapped his arms and legs around it and made his way up the tree faster than it seemed possible for his compact body. When he spoke it was in Guarani to Pablo who moved under a branch and caught what his brother sent down.

The buzzing lump was barely made in Pablo’s arms when the two tall Americans instinctively turned to flee. Yago managed to grab Nic’s arms.

“These bees don’t sting!”

“You could've mentioned that before dropping the hive down,” Narisco said through clenched teeth.

“Si, but that would not have been as funny,” Francisco responded with a chuckle as he shimmied down the tree.

Narisco felt himself smile back. While being the butt of joked involving testing of the huge Americans was tiresome, he sensed laughter was not a common commodity to his relatives.  

Merde

Yup, good ole merde! If you aren't careful you are always in danger of stepping in a huge steaming pile of it. I'm not much for social media. Let me revise that, I despise Facebook, I'm on tumblr like a possessed porn monkey. But an incident this weekend has left me happy for my lack of access to a FB page.
Let me explain.

I went to a photo shoot with my son. A local author saw him and asked him to be the cover model for her novel. He then had me come along to help with make-up (this woman's networking skill in amazing everyone was there as volunteers). I agreed but it was not the best day of my life. The Hairdresser did not disinfect anything she used in the model's hair. Then she took her own make-up and applied it to the models face, again with no cleaning, even though I brought alcohol in a spray bottle for quick sanitation. I bit my tongue, I was only there to be an extra pair of hands. 

The Photographer looks at the multiracial model and says, "What are you?" I did not say a human being, I didn't, but it left a bad taste in my mouth holding in that retort. We got through the day and we were asked to like The Photographer's FB and give a shout out.  Well two days later my son shows me that The Photographer has taken everyone to task for failing to give her said like and shout out. Then a verbal sparring match ensued between The Photographer and The hairdresser. 

Then there is my son. He never joins battles. He sends a message to The Photographer telling her he had liked her page and since his photos of the behind the scenes needed approval he would give her a shout out once he was allowed to publish his photos. The Hairdresser then likes and recommends my son as a photographer and dismisses the other as unprofessional. My son has an offer from The Photographer to use her studio space if he needs it. (He Forrest Gump's his way through life).

I refuse to get a new cell phone, and I don't do anything on Facebook in the hopes everyone will think I'm dead. Every thought seems to need validation. It's easier to type things on a keyboard than say them. But we're losing the ability to listen, we read, but don't understand one another; more communication with less and less understanding. I'm reminded to be careful with my words, to speak my intent, and be adult enough to stand by my words and my work with or without a shout out.

C'est la vie. Here's a photo because I like it. I'm off to work on a story to post here later this week. 

Peace and joy!

Disparate Mercies

I finally posted Disparate Mercies on Literotica under seeker71. If there is interest I'll post chapter 2 but if not it's understandable. At the beginning of the summer I had visions of working diligently on my writing in a blissfully silent house. But it was not to be. I thought having teens old enough to drive would make our house less the hang out spot. I forgot it's cheaper to eat here than buying fast food, lol. Somehow my assertion that I don't really care if they curse has me forever labelled as "cool". I'm not really cool just lazy, I've got better things to worry about that if a teen drops f bombs.

I will simply post my writing here and on Lit. since no publishers are interested. I was thinking of posting each rejection letter and running a counter (I crack me up).

Well I hope you enjoy this  origin story of Vincente Padin, now I have more college research to do for the future pharmacist.



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Blog Building

Hey!

I have been dotting my i's and crossing my t's. I contacted people in alternative lifestyles and asked it I could use their wisdom if/when I get into some area I probably shouldn't. I have been reading crap-tons, I have ideas committed to paper and swag... oh I have swag for the one or two folks out there who follow this blog.  Okay, first actual post of this unpublished writer...

I have finished Deciphering the Bloom. I mean it's been done, yeah, but I promised an epilogue. Well, epilogue with the wedding in Argentina is not happening. Nope. Can't do it. I have tried. Really. But Hilaria is Toba Indian. The trip to Argentina was to highlight that fact, then I do more research into the lives of the Toba in Rosario and I was horrified. I will not go into the details, but these people are starving to death in Chaco, and live on the margins of the city. I cannot, I will not ignore that as I write the Argentina trip detail, but not the backdrop for a wedding.  Think of it as delayed, not cancelled.

I have another story called Disparate Mercies. I think the first chapter may be considered too dark. It is actually the background story to a detective character. We often read and wonder what formed certain characters  (I always do) and this is his background. I'm working on the meat of it and will post. 

There are many other stories, the Tending series, Deciphering the Bloom was book one. Oh, once a month I'm gonna post a chapter here only, sci-fi, but as with the best fiction it's ultimately about the relationships. I am gonna end this first real entry. I managed not to touch any taboo topics. Yay me!

Hey!

I'm ShellC Crosby, I am an unpublished writer of m/m contemporary romance. I will post stories.