Turns out my local power company is about to turn out my electricity for two hours — the price of living right next to an electrical substation, I guess!!! (Or is “price” the wrong word? Because isn’t a price something you pay in exchange for something that might have worth? Ah, words…)

Anyway, due to prices or costs or random electron-associated proximities, this will be a quick post.

WORD SWORD: a metaphorical sword which one can use to divide the words (and phrases and usages and spellings) which one likes from those one does not.

So…my word sword chops down, and when the dust clears, I see:

ON THE GOOD SIDE…i.e. words and phrases I particularly like today:

iconography
happenstance
altruistic
minimalist
butterfly
miscellany
concatenation
paucity
surfeit
plethora
biscuit tin
And pretty much anything Oscar Wilde ever said.

ON THE BAD SIDE…i.e. words/phrases/spellings that I don’t much care for (or hate passionately) today:

atall
alot
alright
walla
impact (as a verb)
Left Coast
all intensive purposes
venerable
ichthyology
executive
chick flick
condominium rentals

So….what does your word sword show today?

All answers welcome!

And remember: the first Tuesday of October, our Jane Austen Movie Club will be discussing BRIDE AND PREJUDICE!

Cara
Cara King, who has a paucity of butterflies and a plethora of biscuit tins in her West Coast home, where ichthyologists dine with her (or come in the evening, at any rate)

The winner of Lost in You by Alix Rickloff is……..

CrystalGB!

Congratulations, CrystalGB. Email us at riskies@yahoo.com with your address and the faeries will deliver your book in person! (Well, through the post office, I mean)

As you read this, hopefully I am just stepping off the plane in Paris! I’ll be gone for the next two weeks, but will be dropping in at Internet cafes to check in on Risky events.

So, what will I be up to this week?

Touristy fun things, like the Eiffel Tower

Shopping for pastries, chocolates, perfume, and cute little soft t-shirts at Petite Bateau (which I may not be able to fit into after the pastries…)

Looking at art at the Louvre, the Orsay, and the Marmottan

Researching new writing projects at Versailles, the Carnavalet, and the Conciergerie

And probably some wandering around in parks eating Nutella crepes.

Au revoir for now, mes amis!

And now…by popular demand…and against the express wishes of my cat…I bring you the almost complete Part the First of
THE RIME OF THE VULCAN MARINER:

(N.B: the beginning of this appeared in an earlier post.)

It is a space-age mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
“By thy verdant skin and too-sharp ears,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

The star bar’s doors are opened wide,
And I’m expected in;
My skirt is small, my hair is tall,
And Kirk will buy me gin.”

He holds her with his skinny hand,
“The Enterprise–” quoth he.
“Hold off! unhand me, blue-shirt loon!”
But Spock cannot agree.

He holds her with his mental meld–
The busty babe stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child:
The Vulcan hath her will.

With Captain Kirk forgotten now,
She listens full of fear;
And thus spake on with logic cool,
The man with pointy ear.

“The ship was cleared, no Klingon feared,
Steadily did we warp
Beyond the Earth, beyond the moon,
Beyond Tau Ceti Four.

“The ship that’s trapp’d in solar heft
Is quite a sight to see.
It shines so bright, that time’s not right
And muons all go free.

“Higher and higher every day,
Till every moment’s noon–“
The leggy babe then missed the rest,
For she heard a tribble croon.

“Jim Kirk hath paced into the bar,
Yellow his tunic’s sheen;
Quaffing a glass of Scotty’s best —
I know not, but it’s green.”

The guest-star fair, she tore her hair,
Yet she cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake that half-Vulcan man,
The space-age Mariner.

“And now the Klingons came, and they
Were tyrannous and strong:
They struck us from their ships with wings,
Which to Romulans once belonged.

With failing shields and flagging warp,
As who pursued with phasers sharp
Beholds the bridge dissolve to quarks
With wormholes straight ahead,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
Into the sun we fled.

And now there came the photon blow,
And it did wondrous hurt:
And tongues of fire made us a pyre
As red as Scotty’s shirt.

And while we stewed, the Klingon crew
Did fire unending blows:
They knocked out Rand and Sulu too–
And singed the captain’s clothes.

They hit us here, they hit us there,
Till only pain we felt:
Off chairs we fell, for, truth to tell,
We have not one seat belt.

Some good news for those of us who enjoy the shorter “traditional” Regencies! Signet/NAL is going to start re-releasing some older titles next year, in the form of of two-stories-in-one-volume omnibuses. Coming in Fall 2009 (just in time for Halloween!) you can find my two “ghost Regencies” One Touch of Magic and A Loving Spirit. In the meantime, look for the holiday anthology A Regency Homespun Christmas in October!

“Composing gives me great pleasure…there is nothing that surpasses the joy of creation, if only because through it one wins hours of self-forgetfulness, when one lives in a world of sound” –Clara Schumann

And today is the 189th birthday of composer and pianist Clara Wieck Schumann, who was born September 13, 1819 in Leipzig. Her father (a rather, er, difficult man who was eventually divorced from her mother, a singer) was a renowned piano teacher. Early on he saw his daughter’s talent, and Clara gave her first concert at the age of 7 playing duets with him. She gave her first solo concert at the age of 11 before going on tour. She was known for playing her own compositions as well as Chopin, Mendelssohn, Scarlatti, Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, etc. (She performed for Goethe, and gained in him a new fan. He presented her with a medal inscribed “For the gifted artist Clara Wieck”)