Lovely snake in the backyard!

This is the most beautiful day we've had since 2010 started. I felt like if I could get my balance, I had to get outside!

Mom went with me. We were happily digging away. Her secret name is Assiduous Weeder and I make regular healthful weed rescues from her weed bag.

She had the shovel and I had a bucket and one of my canes. We were giggling and digging, I had a nice conversation with a squirrel (squirrels speak English - who knew? XD ). I'd collected gorgeous viola odoratas - sweet violets - and one lone dandelion bloom. Mom had dug up a nice bunch of wild garlic.

She saw a piece of plastic and tried to move it with the shovel so she could pick it up when suddenly she said, "There's a snake! It's a green snake!"

It looks more blue in this pic than it did through my eyes and hers. What a beaut, eh?

We've got all sorts of fauna around here: a raccoon family lives in my neighbor's backyard, salamanders and box turtles appear every now and then, lizards abound. There are more birds in this area than I could possibly count. I heard my lovely wood thrush day before yesterday in the early hours of light.

But nobody has seen a snake in so long, neither Mom nor I could remember.

She said, "Should I kill it?" I hollered, "Don't you DARE!"

So, several pics later, he (or she) pulled his/her head back out of sight, and we moved on to nice big dandelions and musk thistles.

Somebody here on this earth or in the life to come loves us. :)



Copyright 2008-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, Sparkling With Crystals, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Use the ShareThis link if you want to share this. Nothing in the above article is remunerated content. Remember that if my work gets published anywhere else without proper citation, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

How come you aren't married?

Joke of the Week from Eddie at The Texas Cook Review 5/3/09:

Sitting in the bar George asked his 40-year-old buddy Johnny, "How come you aren't married?"

Johnny: "I haven't found the right woman yet."

George: "So what are you looking for?"

Johnny: "Oh she's got to be real pretty, - a good cook and house-keeper, and she's got to know how to handle money, a really nice and pleasant personality is a must - and money, she's got to have money...and a home, a nice big house, is what she has to have."

George: "A woman like that would be crazy to marry YOU."

Johnny: "Oh, it's okay if she is crazy."

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Astrological Age of Amphibians

"The following aspects should also be noted:

* Semi-Semisquare (22.5 degrees)

* Squine (105 degrees)

* Tridecile (108 degrees)

* Quindicile (165 degrees)

* Reptile (does not exist, is a joke)

* Debile (does not exist, is a bad joke)"

Astrowiki, article Aspects


My Moon is Reptile to Mars and Venus at the moment. It will progress to Frog at some point. When it does, I shall be prepared to kiss said Frog so he will transit into Prince and we will hop into the river.

I believe I've been studying birth charts a bit too intently.

As long as as I don't have a sudden transit into Imbecile, I'll be alright. XD


Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Moody Girl and Untitled Man

I write poetry every now and then. This offering is the product of this mood funk I'm in.

Untitled Man



Your lesson is to learn to let him go.
Let him go. Let go.
You know.

I will do it, Mother, I will.
I know how.

Then you know it will hurt you, dear one.
Close your eyes and I will help you.

Shred the bark from the trees,
Blast the dirt into the air for miles,
Incinerate the face of the entire world,
Leave nothing alive.

Rage, raise your flaming arms and burn the very air.
Shake the planets like dice.
Close in around the sun, crush it, crush it.
Leave nothing as it was.

Let him go. Let him go. Let him go.

Turn now.
Turn.
Turn.

Swirling now, going up.
Wrap yourself in everything you've destroyed.
Swirl, like a tornado, that's the way.
Carry everything away.

The earth is a steel ball now.

Naked, standing, eye to eye.
Don't approach. Don't hold. Don't touch.
He's gone. He's gone. He's gone.
(Close your eyes, dear one.
I will help you.)

Your lesson was to learn to let him go.
The scorpion's now stung herself to death.
Remind yourself if should you think of him and join him,
and forget.

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Teach a Man to Sit...

"Give your man a chair and he rests right then.
Teach your man to sit and he will rest forever.
Having to teach your man to sit on his butt forever is unnecessary.
So, just give your man a chair."
Parin Stormlaughter



Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Happiest Birthday to Me

Today is my birthday. I'm 48 years old.

Today is also the Feast of St. John of the Cross, my hero in Carmel.

As we say down here, "We po'fokes". I told Assistant Offspring to save their money and not get anything for me. What they did for me has made me giggle all afternoon. They bought a card, and baked a small chocolate cake.


The cake is amazing. Here it is with my halite lamp behind it, sitting on a coverlet that's more than 100 years old. It was made completely by Mary Alice Fisher. She was my maternal great-grandmother. Keeps me warm of a night.







Only one candle but it looks like it's on fire... :)


But the card took the cake. Open it, and it plays--The Hampster Dance.

I screamed. We all sang at the tops of our lungs. I love Hampsterdance. And Assistant Offspring knew and had bought this card a while back and saved it for me.

Microwaved birthday cake and a Hampsterdance card. And love, so much love.

Have I ever had such a wonderful birthday? If so, it was nearly 30 years ago...

I love you all.

Hampsters and the Kung-Fu Gerbil battle it out

Beware of shysters and taking a break

The Carmelite's Habit staff is taking a short break.

I verbally jerked a knot in somebody's tail this morning and made myself sick in the process. Doesn't matter that I'm in in the right. Anger this intense, emotions of this intensity regardless of the circumstances good or bad, have made me so sick in the past that it's gotten away from me and I've ended up in bed for a week.

Stress is my number one Meniere's trigger and right now, tinnitus in my ears is screaming. I'm nauseated and my chest is hurting. I'm stress-eating Reese's Miniatures.

Beware of shysters.

Quit Hollerin’, I’m Fixin’ to, or I’ll Slow Down if You’ll Hurry up!

Folks down here tickle me.

We live in the Deep South and have for more than two hundred years. My family contributed to the development of such things as Southern Hospitality and Southern Drawl. We’re a typical Alabama family: I have 33 first cousins on my mother’s side alone; however, none of us are married to one another.

The Language of Alabama is truly something special. Down here, we’re always fixin’ to do something.


Grandma: I’m fixin’ to go to Piggly Wiggly.
Grandpa: Well Honey-baby, if you’ll slow down, I’ll go with you.
Grandma: I will slow down if you’ll hurry up!


My parents had that conversation the other day. Those old folks just tickle the snot out of me sometimes.

We also have Standard Pronouns for gender: Man, Woman, Boy, Youngun, and Sweet Thing. Down here, Youngun and Sweet Thing are pronouns.

Granny: Hey, Man, bring us in some firewood. Let’s have a fire and I’ll put me on some of that cologne from Christmas.
Grandpa: We hain’t got time, Woman. Them younguns is gonna be here shortly and that boy is bringin' that sweet thing from down at the mill.

Old Alabama joke
Question: What’s the plural of “y’all”?
Answer: “All y’all”

I don’t imagine any single word is as closely associated with deep south speech as the word “y’all”. A contraction of ‘you’ and ‘all’, it has a couple of pronunciations including one that sounds like ‘yaw’.

Freddie: Yaw come on, Jamie and me are fixin’ to go swimmin’ at the quarry.
Barbara: Y’all go on, we’ll be over there in a little bit.
Freddie: Yaw gonna bring some KFC? Jamie’s got the beer already.
Barbara: Who all is coming? Can I go get Tammi and them?
Freddie: Sure, all yaw can come. We’ll have us a good time no matter.


And bless our hearts! If there’s any problem we can’t solve for someone but want to show we care anyway, we can always bless someone’s heart.


Jeanetta Rae: Bless Freddie’s heart, that poor youngun hain’t got a ride to work ‘cause his truck’s broke down. He’s fixin’ to walk.
Georgia: Y’all got that motor bike out there. Cain’t he take that?
Jeanetta Rae: That boy duhdn’t know how to ride that bike!
Georgia: Yaw didn’t show him how?
Jeanetta Rae: Naw, uhn-uhn!
Georgia: It’s a good five-mile walk to the plant, bless his heart. He’ll be wore out ‘fore he gets there.

And yonder is another colloquial gem.

Eddie: What’s that over yonder?!
Cleo: Old turkey buzzard.
Eddie: Naw! That thing further out yonder!
Cleo: You just lookin’ at that smoke from the trash pile, sugar.
Eddie: No!! Way out yonder!
Cleo: Hmmm...What the hell is that?
Eddie: I don’t know, but I’m fixin’ to go get my gun. Looks like a damned UFO to me!


Holler is both a noun and a verb here in the Deep South. Right after my mother bought her farm land, she and my father encountered hunters who politely knocked on her door and asked if they would direct them to Meat Holler. They were referring to a lovely dale with a natural artesian spring visible from my parent’s back deck. It is a hive of animal activity and the hunters had heard they’d find quarry in Meat Holler.

We also holler to speak. An alternate spelling is holla.

Granny: Boy, holler down to yore Grandpa and tell him lunch’s ready.
Freddie: Yes ma’am. Can I holler over and see if Jamie wants to eat?
Granny: Yeah, you can holler at him too, bless his heart.
Freddie: [at the barn door] Grandpa!
Grandpa: Holla!
Freddie: Granny says lunch is ready! And I’m fixin’ to holler at Jamie to see if he wants to eat too.
Grandpa: He’s way out yonder at the fence down in the holler. Better take the truck.
Freddie: Cain’t, Grandpa. It’s broke down.
Grandpa: Well youngun, I guess you’d better make tracks if yaw gonna get back ‘fore I’m ready to sit down.
Freddie: I’m fixin’ to go right now.


Wonder what would all these sound like strung together?

[Jeanetta Rae and Georgia are drinking iced tea on the porch]

Jeanetta Rae: Bless Freddie’s heart, that poor youngun hain’t got a ride to work ‘cause his truck’s broke down. He’s fixin’ to walk.
Georgia: Y’all got that motor bike out there. Cain’t he take that?
Jeanetta Rae: That boy duhdn’t know how to ride that bike!
Georgia: Yaw didn’t show him how?
Jeanetta Rae: Naw, uhn-uhn!
Georgia: It’s a good five-mile walk to the plant, bless his heart. He’ll be wore out ‘fore he gets there.

[Grandma walks out the front door, Grandpa right behind her]

Grandma: I’m fixin’ to go to Piggly Wiggly.
Grandpa: Well Honey-baby, if you’ll slow down, I’ll go with you.
Grandma: I will slow down if you’ll hurry up! [they leave]
Jeanetta Rae: You heard what Eddie and Cleo saw the other day?
Georgia: Naw
Jeanetta Rae: She and Eddie were out back and he said, “What’s that over yonder?!” and Cleo says, “Old turkey buzzard.” Eddie said, “Naw! That thing further out yonder!” Cleo says, “You just lookin’ at that smoke from the trash pile, sugar.”
Georgia: Eddie can’t see for nothing!
Jeanetta Rae: So Eddie hollers, “No!! Way out yonder! Well then Cleo says, “Hmmm...What the hell is that?” Eddie says, “I don’t know, but I’m fixin’ to go get my gun. Looks like a damned UFO to me!”

[Later in the day. Great smells are coming from the kitchen]

Granny: Boy, holler down to yore Grandpa and tell him lunch’s ready.
Freddie: Yes ma’am. Can I holler over and see if Jamie wants to eat?
Granny: Yeah, you can holler at him too, bless his heart.
Freddie: [at the barn door] Grandpa!

Grandpa: Holla!
Freddie: Granny says lunch is ready! And I’m fixin’ to holler at Jamie to see if he wants to eat too.
Grandpa: He’s way out yonder at the fence down in the holler. Better take the truck.
Freddie: Cain’t, Grandpa. It’s broke down.
Grandpa: Well youngun, I guess you’d better make tracks if yaw gonna get back ‘fore I’m ready to sit down.
Freddie: I’m fixin’ to go right now. Jamie’s gonna holler when I tell him Granny’s made chicken and sweet potatoes.
Grandpa: Yep, not many women can cook like yore Granny. Now go on and git!

[After lunch, girl-next-door is over for a visit]

Freddie: Yaw come on, Jamie and me are fixin’ to go swimmin’ at the quarry.
Barbara: Y’all go on, we’ll be over there in a little bit.
Freddie: Yaw gonna bring some KFC? Jamie’s got the beer already.
Barbara: Who all is coming? Can I go get Tammi and them?
Freddie: Sure, all y’aw can come. We’ll have us a good time no matter.

[Later that evening]

Granny: Hey, Man, bring us in some firewood. Let’s have a fire and I’ll put me on some of that cologne from Christmas.
Grandpa: We hain’t got time, Woman. Them younguns is gonna be back here shortly and that boy’s got that sweet thing from down at the mill.

And so on, as the barbecue turns on the grill...

I love my home in Alabama. If y’all up yonder ever come down this way, slow down and holler at us! We’re fixin’ to eat right now.

Genealogy in the South, or Why I Hang Out in Cemeteries

The American Civil War was a bloody, demoralizing, family-destroying event in United States history. After the war was over, in the Southern states there were rumors that those who fought would be prosecuted as war criminals and their families denied war pensions. How did a few choose to address these rumors?

Courthouses that contained census records were burned to the ground, that's how. Even copies of census records kept in Washington were destroyed. The only census records for the year 1890 that still exist nationwide are a fragment from Perry County Alabama and a few tiny bits and pieces from here and there. So what's an enterprising Southern genealogist to do for information? Go cemetery-hopping!

Cemetery headstones and old church records contain the only collated information available about deaths and burials, other than whatever someone's Aunt Harriet might have written down at the bedside of an ancient relic who was about to pass on.

Cemetery headstones frequently contain not only birth and death dates, but parental information too. And you might find that individual's parents' graves nearby, and their parents' too, and their children, and so on.

One sad note about the graves of many of our fallen Civil War veterans: their graves are often unmarked. For the same reason that today's genealogists look to gravestones for information, there were fears after the War that the same information would be used to identify and prosecute war criminals and their families. So, many graves simply went unmarked and remain so to this day.

One big issue with gravestone information is that occasionally, it is significantly wrong! I've got this problem in my family, and we're wrangling about who is going to fork over the money to solve it and get the name corrected. So, always make a note that your source for the information you collect is a gravestone from Serene Cemetery off Highway 261 near Eastville, or wherever you happen to be. Remember that a picture of the offending gravestone is worth a thousand notes too.

Some churches have burial records that are more than a hundred of years old. I have a set of transcribed minutes for a Presbyterian church that kept burial records since 1827. A phone call to the church office, or a letter to the pastor if the small church doesn't have an office, many times will open a jewelry box of information that will only require searching for the names and dates you need.

If you're really on your genteel Southern manners, you might be able to get a referral from the pastor to an elderly church member who may already have long lists of old genealogical information compiled by his or her ancestors that might be the motherlode of information you've been searching for.

Come November through March, nothing excites me more than spending a whole Saturday in a new cemetery. Some of them are way, way back in the woods and haven't been kept up for more than a century. Need long pants and bug spray for those forays because the ticks are as big as muskedines. Some cemeteries are so huge it takes many Saturdays to explore them completely. Some are just a few graves that were placed on the grounds of a homestead now long gone.

I'm on a quest to photograph every headstone for every ancestor of mine that I can find. That will take me the rest of my life, I reckon. I figure I'm related to nearly a third of the state of Alabama, if their families have been here more than a hundred years. I know of one Civil War veteran uncle buried in Chicago where he died of dysentery in a POW camp. I know the plot number and everything, and someday I'll get up there to photograph his headstone too.

My father always goes with me in my cemetery wanderings. And he always takes his best friend 'Roscoe.' Can't be too careful.

If you decide to make a trip, always carry a notebook and pencil, water, cell phone, and most importantly tell someone exactly where you're going and when you're coming back. Give them the address of the cemetery and the name of the church, if one is associated with it.

And be respectful of the dead. Don't take things that aren't yours, because all states have laws against removing things from graveyards under 'grave robbing' statutes. Don't take your metal detectors either, because they're covered under the same 'grave robbing' statues. Don't leave trash, don't have a picnic on the graves themselves–be decent, folks.

Mostly, be ready to be awed and filled with reverence. Cemeteries are peaceful, restful places and I love to be in them. Weird as this may sound, I would buy property next to a cemetery and build a house (if I had any money!) because I haven't found many cemeteries in central Alabama that don't contain graves of my ancestors. I feel near to the past when I'm in a cemetery. The past, history, is my love, and I love my ancestors. We've been in Alabama since 1796. This ground where my ancestors rest is truly my home.

Meniere's and Migraine Madness
Another blog written long before today! I write these things on the fly, as I find clear minutes. Sometimes I feel better at, say, 2:45AM for 25 minutes. I write like crazy until I give out. I pick up again next time I have a few clear minutes, and that's how I get these things written.

I've discovered that this cognitive dysfunction I'm suffering from has had a rather interesting effect on my brain. I can be creative, but not cogitative. I can write music or a story or a blog or draw or sing--but ask me to fill out a form, or read and understand instructions for something like the disability paperwork I'm struggling with right now--cannot do it.

I cannot get rid of this migraine. The pain just goes on and on. As long as I hold my head perfectly still and try not to think, the pounding lessens. But I do have to get up every now and then, and that's when trouble hits.

Meniere's ear pressure is still there in both ears. The tinnitus is still loud. I was trying a tinnitus masking technique of listening to ambient music through headphones and actually heard the hearing in my left ear gradually fluctuate downward until I could barely hear at all.

I'm going back to bed now. When I'm flat on my back, it doesn't matter how many dizzy spells I have, or how bad my head hurts. I pray, and God listens, and sometimes He says 'yes' to my prayers and sometimes He doesn't. But He always listens.