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Date Posted: Tue, March 29 2022, 20:09:09
Author: Betsy BFS
Subject: QOTD for Tuesday, 3/29/22

Technically, it's still Tuesday. Technically. I'm a few...ahem... hours later than usual and I apologize. Sometimes, life wanders along, separate to my plans. Sometimes? Who am I kidding. Always. It's sort of been like that since birth. I marvel at people who are organized and actually complete chores, projects, and dust the furniture. No matter what I do and how much I swear I will stick to the plan, it always looks worse after I've cleaned.

I'd love to ask you all to visit and have tea and biscuits, but it would take me about a month to clean. I have a friend, one of my favorite humans, who lived in a trailer with her two young girls. When someone drove into her driveway, she would race around grabbing everything except the essentials, throw it all in one of the bedrooms, and toss a big blanket over it all and close the door. She could actually do all of it in three minutes or less. It didn't work for me, and yes, I tried it, because we had no doors on any of the rooms in our house. People could see the huge pile of stuff with a blanket thrown over it and I'd be outed. sigh. My late posting had nothing to do with cleaning my house. In case you were wondering.

The following quote is taken from 'Dragonfly in Amber,' by Diana Gabaldon. Copyright © 1992 by Diana Gabaldon. All rights reserved.



"Drink, Monsieur," said the King. The dark eyes were hooded once more, showing nothing. "Or are you afraid?"

The Comte might have a number of things to his discredit, but cowardice wasn't one of them. His face was pale and set, but he met the King's eyes squarely, with a slight smile.

"No, Majesty," he said.

He took the cup from my hand and drained it, his eyes fixed on mine. They stayed fixed, staring into my face, even as they glazed with the knowledge of death. The White Lady may turn a man's nature to good, or to destruction .

The Comte's body hit the floor, writhing, and a chorus of shouts and cries rose from the hooded watchers, drowning any sound he might have made. His heals drummed briefly, silent on the the flowered carpet; his body arched, then subsided into limpness. The snake, thoroughly disgruntled, struggled free of the disordered folds of white satin and slithered rapidly away, heading for the sanctuary of Louis's feet.

All was pandemonium.

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Replies:

[> Claire is so brave. I wouldn’t have made it for one minute in this scene. I’m sure le Comte isn’t a good guy and this did work for Claire with Master Raymond’s help, but the whole creepiness and evil aura is yucky. I have to admit he summoned up balls to just drink it. P. S. I loved the stories about your kids plotting. We were five spread over 9 1/2 years and had so much fun plotting together for OUR common good. But I often wonder how my Mom did it, her Mom died when she was 6 months old and she was raised by her aunt, and it wasn’t a pleasant childhood. Then she had 5 kids! I admire that she kept her sanity. I love the mental picture you paint of your home - I think of the Weasley’s - comfortably messy - constantly busy/crazy - and just overflowing with love. And not just for immediate family. -- Kathy in PA, Wed, March 30 2022, 4:43:59


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[> [> I agree with everything you posted, Kathy in PA! -- DianaH, Wed, March 30 2022, 8:32:07


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