Thursday, January 17, 2008

Last Chicken Roosting

By Cassondra Murray

This is Ickey the rooster with my husband, Steve.

Sorry, but this is the only picture of grown-up Ickey that I could find. It’s cropped from a family picture we took at Christmas a few years back.

Take a close look at Ickey's feet and you’ll notice that he has long spurs on his chicken heels. For you who don’t know, those are a bit sharp. Not like a blade or anything, but still, that’s the part you have to watch out for. The spurs. You’ll hear more about those later.

Ickey and my husband, Steve, were buddies. Ickey came to us in a box of 12 fluffy, day-old yellow chicks, and we’d raised them mostly as pets because I like chickens. I think it’s the sounds they make when they’re content. They’re soothing.

Ickey and I didn’t always get along, but Steve and Ickey....well, they bonded early on.

On this particular portrait day, we’d finished all the serious pics, and were about to disperse when Steve yelled, “WAIT,” ran to the henhouse and returned with Icky under his arm. He wanted a family portrait with Ickey in it. Now I’m glad because I’ve learned a bunch from Ickey.


Our rooster got his name from Ickey Woods, a football player for the Cincinnati Bengals in the late 80s- early 90s. Don’t ask me what position he played, as I know nothing about football, but I remember Ickey Woods because of the funky little sideways dance he did in the end zone when he scored a touchdown. They called it the Ickey shuffle.


You see, when a rooster reaches chicken puberty, he goes, like most of us, through a series of changes, both physical and mental. I can’t actually say whether he goes through emotional changes, as I understand only rudimentary chicken language. I can translate “I just laid an egg.” I can usually make out, “Something’s after me I need help hurry!”, and I clearly understand, “Get your hand out from under me, that egg is MINE.” But the finer points of chicken emotions…I’m not that fluent yet.

A rooster at puberty does begin paying close attention to the lady chickens and like young men around young women, his behavior gets a bit odd. He starts picking up bits of food, but not eating them. He drops them near the hens to get attention. He holds his head and neck way back to make his chest look bigger, he struts around a lot, and oh yes, he starts crowing.

But the most interesting change is that he starts to get a bit…well…territorial. If you go into the chicken coop, he gets between you and the hens. First he makes a show of force by crowing, then he drops one wing like a shield and dances at you sort of sideways in this funky little shuffle…the Ickey shuffle. ( Is it making sense now, the whole Ickey Woods connection? Okay good.) That's Ickey Woods up there on the left, actually doing the Ickey shuffle.

If you’re not careful, as your rooster grows older and gets stronger, you’ll end up flat on your back on the wrong end of those spurs. I learned as a little girl to take a stick with me into the chicken yard, and I know the precise, rapid splat-splat-splat-splat sound of rooster feet running full speed toward you down a dirt path. (Never let ‘em catch you with your back turned. They watch for that.)

Who You Callin’ a Chicken?

Now that picture of Ickey the rooster was taken December 2003, and in Summer of 2004 I was away for the weekend when Steve came home after a Saturday morning outing and found...well, it was bad. He had to call to tell me. It broke our hearts, and it surprised even me, and I’ve been around chickens all my life.


Our henhouse has two doors. A people-sized door on the front, and a chicken-size door on the side, opening into the chicken yard. It stays open most of the time, so the chickens can come and go on their own. Chickens come in at night, and “roost” a few feet off the ground, and the hens were doing this as usual, but for a few months, Ickey had been refusing to roost. He’d been sleeping right in the chicken doorway, face out toward the chicken yard.

You know, I’m not entirely sure how our culture came to call a person “chicken” when he’s afraid of something. Our culture is dead wrong.

This blog is about misperceptions, you see.

That summer night in 2004, Ickey served his purpose. He fulfilled his calling.

He faced down, and killed, a bobcat.




Now granted, Ickey was a big rooster, but do you know what a bobcat is? It’s a wildcat. They’re native to Kentucky but there aren’t any in this part of the state really. I’ve spent half my life traipsing through the woods and I’ve never seen one running loose. I’ve heard one only once, in Western Kentucky on a game preserve. The scream in the night will curdle your blood. They’re the size of a border collie but a lot stronger. Claws as long as your little finger and as vicious as a tiger when they fight.

We found the cat tracks in the mud the next day. This bobcat had climbed onto a dog crate we’d set beside the henhouse and gone over the five-foot wire fence into the chicken yard. That bobcat approached our henhouse thinking he’d found himself an easy dinner. Instead he met a real chicken and died. We found the cat a few feet into the field, ripped up and soaked with blood. We’re not sure which killed him, the puncture wound in his jugular, the one through his head, or the one through his lung from Ickey’s spurs.

Ickey was alive when Steve got home, but barely. He was staggering around on his feet, but his face and half his head were gone. He had almost no feathers left on half of his body. Blood everywhere. He’d fought for hours. Fended off attack after attack, and finally killed that bobcat through sheer force of will.

Not one feather on one hen was out of place. That cat never got to them. Because of a chicken.


The hardest part was that Ickey wasn’t going to die quickly and easily. Steve had to kill him. My husband is 5’3” tall. That’s taller than me but not by much. A bit short for a man. Throughout his lifetime a number of unfortunate folks have assumed they could push him around. He’s a martial artist, deadly with his hands and feet and with any kind of weapon. Former Special Ops.

Who would think that the fragile, fluffy little bird in this picture would grow up to kill a wildcat and save his flock? He had feathers on the outside, but when it was his time, Ickey proved what he was made of.

Steve still swallows hard when he looks at that family portrait with Ickey. I understand, now, why they bonded.

Steve and his buddy, Ickey—in spirit, they were alike.


So tell me, Bandita friends, do you have an Ickey in your life? Let's hear about your misperceptions. What have you thought was obviously one way, but found it to be another?

Any preconceived notions or misperceptions you’ve had knocked out from under you?

Our characters tend to assume things about one another, just like we do.

Sometimes as writers we depend on those notions in the reader. If we name our character Juan Hernandez, what a surprise when he’s Jewish. What happens when Ian McTavish rides a Harley through the Hollywood hills instead of a horse through the highlands?

The most common misperceptions are often by men about women, and vice-versa. For a romance writer, those come in very handy indeed and we use them often. Isn’t it extra nice when we find, right along with our heroine, that our hero appeared to be one thing, but in fact was another?

So tell me. What have you thought was one thing, but it turned out to be something entirely different?
There’s a $5 gift card to Barnes & Noble up for grabs to one random commenter.

AND
since I was completely brain dead through the holidays and did NOT give away the Romance Bandits mug from my December blog (over a month ago! The shame of it. I know, I know, I should be smitten.)I’ll be drawing for it at the same time. Watch this weekend for the winners.

92 comments:

flchen1 said...

wow!

Cassondra said...

Flchen1, congrats on the Golden Rooster (whose name is NOT Ickey, btw)!

You're rockin Bandita buddy! (grin)

flchen1 said...

Cassondra, Ickey was one amazing rooster. His story blew my mind.

And what a neat twist, to turn our thoughts to misperceptions. I do enjoy those being turned on their heads as a reader, and I like turning misperceptions on their heads as a relatively small, agreeable looking person who happens to be extremely loud and sometimes feisty :)

The not so good "I thought it was one thing" kind of experiences are like when I pick up a piece of chocolate that looks like it ought to be some sort of amazing chocolate covered truffly delicious something and it turns out to be substandard pretend/wrong textured crayon something. The really good "not what I expected" kinds are when I meet someone that seems to be so not-my-type/from-a-different-world but instead we click and end up being able to have a great conversation that might lead to being friends.

If I have a more specific example, I'll come back with it :)

flchen1 said...

Yes, but the GR can aspire to Ickey-type heroics, can't he? :)

Anna Campbell said...

Oh, come on! Fedora, hand over that bird!!! It's not even midnight on the west coast yet! The Aussies should be able to use their unfair advantage!

Oh, all right, she said grumbling and shuffling her feet, congratulations!

Cassondra said...

OMG Flchen you are so dead on about the chocolate. Or when you get a really good, kind of expensive package of chocolate and you're all pumped about it, then you open it and it's old--the flavor's gone off. Ruins your whole day.

And oh yes, the Golden Rooster can most certainly aspire to even greater heroics. He's survived the night at P226's house at least twice that I know of! (Actually I think the GR may have come away with some special warfare training of his own.)

I love it that you're little but you're fiesty. People always think I'm fluff. Ha. Wrongo!

Omar Cruz said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
flchen1 said...

Cassondra, old (but used to be gorgeous) chocolate is such a waste! Definitely a bad surprise!

And thanks for your gracious congrats, Anna! ;) I'm just giving the GR another day to rest up after his recent escape before he heads back to the land down under :)

Cassondra said...

Oh, don't mind Anna, flchen1. She gets a bit grumpy when he's gone for too long. He keeps her chasing after him, and she does so love a good chase, you know? Joanie's gladiators just can't keep her busy!

Anna Campbell said...

Cassondra, that was an amazing story. I was cheering Ickey! What an amazing bird. I've seen films of bobcats and they're seriously scary. And a rooster managed to fight him off? Now, that's heroic! How sad that it was such a pyrrhic victory.

Cassondra said...

Anna, unfortunately our flock did not get its happily ever after. Hmmm. Maybe this is more like an Oprah book. You know, makes you cry but you're supposed to get a good life lesson and all.

Hmmm.

Donna MacMeans said...

Poor Steve - having to do it the brave Ickey. That is just too sad.

Okay, preconceptions - my husband was a football player in college - one of the lineman. First thing I noticed about him were those broad shoulders - then the eyes - then that warm feeling that quickly spread to my extremities whenever those eyes turned my way *g*. Anyway, he's a big guy - but he does the most amazing embroidery. We met in 1971 when jeans with braid on the bottom, embroidery on the legs, and well-placed rips and tears was bigtime fashion *g* My husband embroidered his jeans. The skill came in handy when he decided to quit smoking. It gave him something to do with his hands.

Here's another preconception - a CPA/romance writer *g* Takes all kinds.

Cassondra said...

Donna wrote:
but he does the most amazing embroidery. We met in 1971 when jeans with braid on the bottom, embroidery on the legs, and well-placed rips and tears was bigtime fashion *g*

Donna! Those are BACK!

I remember that. My mom embroidered a GORGEOUS iris on my jeans--with the whole iris blossom colored in purple--overcasting I think she called it. It was stunning. I hated to wear it because I didn't want to ruin it by wearing it out!

You hit one for certain. A massive football player doing embroidery. I will want more of this story in the future.

But wait. I have another football player memory stirring..wasn't it Rosy (rosie?) Greer who did crochet or knitted or...something considered non-masculine at the time?

Excellent example, Donna.

Oh, and Mrs Brimley does make quite a bit of use of the misperception and preconceived notion, now doesn't it! ;0)

Donna MacMeans said...

Hah - you're right. Mrs. Brimley is built on misrepresentation, both from the hero and the heroine. I had the perfect example under my nose and I went straight to those broad shoulders (sigh).

And yes, I have several of the machine-embroidered jeans, but they're just not the same, you know? And I have rips in my jeans, but it has nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with holiday poundage (not a pretty sight).

Caren Crane said...

Flchen, congrats! I know, after reading Ickey's story, you will be extra nice to the GR.

Cassondra, you broke my heart this morning! Please send along my much-belated condolences to Steve. I cannot imagine his devastation at Ickey's noble sacrifice.

Donna, I love that your husband embroiders. My mother and sisters and I did TONS of it back in the day. Rosey Grier did, indeed, do needlework and macrame unashamedly. He also sang a song on a favorite 70s album of ours, Free To Be...You And Me! I think we have waxed rhapsodic about FTBYAM in the Lair before. Rosey is also a minister. He is my hero!

One of the biggest surprises I ever got was when I was home from college, admiring my 18-yr-old sister's highlights. They were gorgeous! I couldn't imagine where she had found the money to get them done and she certainly could not have done them herself.

Turns out, our very ADHD 16-yr-old brother had done them for her. She had been very vocal in her hair discontent and he kept asking questions and making comments until he convinced her he could do it. She said it took forever, but still to this day says they are the best highlights she ever got!

My brother is 38 now (6'2", about 230 pounds, building contractor) and has never done highlights again. But he smokes the best barbecue you ever tasted and makes his own sauces. He is also a wonderful father, despite the fact that our father abandoned us when he was only 4.

Maybe having a great mother and four older sisters influenced him just a little. But my brother really has been a wonderful surprise to me!

Denise Rossetti said...

Oh Cassondra, I'm blinking back the tears. I only popped by the Banditas to see what was going on (I've been on the seventh level of Deadline Hell) and now I'm all wrung out. *sniffle*

What a wonderful story - and I bet that was one VERY surprised bobcat. Good!

I love that people have hidden depths, that at work, for example, you only see one aspect of them.

Do you find you get interesting reactions when you tell people that you write and also what you write? I sure do. Goodness knows what they expect someone who writes erotic and fantasy romance to look like, but I ain't it! A pink feather boa, fishnets, a throaty contralto? Perhaps I should be young and stacked. Come to think of it, that's an excellent idea!

Thanks for telling us Ickey's story. I'm so glad you did.

Denise

hrdwrkdmom aka Dianna said...

Cassondra, I am so sorry about Ickey, as your story said he did serve his purpose though. If you must go then in service is the way to do it. I think it is appropriate that RB's current symbol is a rooster. Perseverance, is that not what writing is all about?

Christie Kelley said...

Cassondra, you're supposed to let us kow when you're going to write a tear-jerker. No fair. Too early in the morning.

Ickey's story was wonderful. What a brave chicken to take on a wildcat. I can't believe he killed that bobcat. Amazing!

And since it is too early in the morning and I haven't had a second cup of coffee yet, I can't come up with a good misperception. I'll have to post one later.

Gillian Layne said...

I don't have any really profound misconceptions, mine are mostly based around our never-ending remodeling sagas.

I am a DREADFUL color-picker. My husband despairs my trips to the paint store, because everything I bring home (I love it!) I end up hating once on the walls.

Finally, he picked what I thought was the most atrocious mustard color for the dining room walls, and actually allowed two of the girls to choose their own bedroom colors (horrors!). And of course, now that those colors are on the walls, they are gorgeous!

And I grew up on a farm, so your story didn't surprise me, but it did make me cry. Poor brave rooster, good for him! A bobcat got my Cocker spaniel about 15 years ago. They are fierce creatures.

Deb Marlowe said...

Sniff, sniff. Brave Ickey--that is an amazing story, Cassondra. We had bobcats where I grew up and they really did sound like a woman screaming! Used to freak me out on cold, dark mornings when I was waiting for the school bus. Shudder...

Gillian Layne said...

"husband despairs my trips" ?

Husband despairs of my trips?

Husband despises my trips?

I need a cup of coffee...:)

Beth said...

What a wonderful story, Cassondra. Ickey was certainly one special rooster.

We have bobcats here as well. I've never seen one in the wild but my brother-in-law came across one caught in a trap one time (big one - the bobcat, not the trap) and our niece actually hit one while delivering mail on a rural route.

As far as misperceptions, I've had a few writer friends tell me they were surprised by my writing. I guess it's because I'm thought of as...well...sort of sweet and nice (both true, no matter what Tawny says) and my sarcastic sense of humor takes people by surprise *g*

doglady said...

My sincere condolences on the loss of Ickey. It may have been a while back, but the memory of it is still there for your family. What a truly wonderful story. Ickey was a real romantic hero - making the ultimate sacrifice for his "women." It teaches never to underestimate any creature. And a man who appreciates that kind of friendship from what others consider an insignificant creature is a real hero. You got a keeper there, Cassondra!

Congrats on the GR, fichen!! Poor Anna is having rooster withdrawal! Fighting a bobcat / surviving a night with p226 - which one is worst?

As writers we definitely use misconceptions to the max! They make life so much more interesting.

There was a young baritone in my classes at the Mozarteum that EVERYONE underestimated. He wore thick glasses, had long black stringy hair, wore the oddest layers of clothes and never said much at all. None of us heard his entry audition so we had no clue about his voice. Auditions for the first production of the year DON GIOVANNI were closed, which means we did not get to hear the other singers before they were cast. Needless to say when he was cast as Don Giovanni opposite me I was not ecstatic. I wanted the hot blond baritone. UNTIL . . . I heard Alexander (the oddball) sing. OMG He has a voice that you could wrap around you like a fur blanket. The tone, the inflection dances over your skin like liquid sex. Once the costumers and hair and makeup people were through with him every woman in the cast and crew was ready to jump him, tie him to the bed and feed him aphrodisiacs (including me and I was a happily married woman!) He was 19 years old and get this, ladies, he is the son of an Austrian baron and his mother's maiden name is Ferrari (yes, THOSE Ferraris) He currently sings with the Bayreuth Festival Opera Company and is one of my dearest friends. Teach me not to judge a book by its cover!

Joan said...

Blogger ate my original post.

Cassondra, one of my misperceptions was about Ickey the rooster!

I started out reading your post thinking "That is so funny" and quickly became caught up in the drama and the suspense and the tender relationship between your husband and Ickey *sniff*

I also agree with whoever said that Ickey the rooster is a symbol of persverance. We should develop an "Ickey" award for writers!

Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to put up a plaque in honor of Ickey!

*sniff*

MsHellion said...

Wow, that story was amazing! I'm very sad Ickey died (though maybe he went the way the way he wanted--with his boots on)

I'll have to think about the blog question. The closest I come to answering is...people realize I'm a lot "darker" and "philosophical" than their first impression of me, which they usually sum up as: "flakey." But I don't think that's the same...

p226 said...

When the chips are down, you never know. Sometimes, the most gung ho become useless. And the lil nerdy guy with the glasses does things you'd never expect. Physical appearances and bravado don't mean much when things are for real. You either do what you have to do, or you hope someone else will.

Ickey did what he had to do.

I'm not often surprised when folks really show their metal. Occasionally I am, but not often. I've been surprised the other way.

We had this gunny I'll leave nameless. Guy was Mr. Regulations. Total "I'm a hardcore killer!" attitude. Until we took incoming. He was so panicked, that he dropped the magazine right out of his rifle. *plop* A PFC reseated it for him. Not that it was going to do him any good. He was completely worthless. Fortunately, another staff NCO stepped up and took over for him. He acted "offended" by this usurpation. But I'm pretty sure he was relieved. He wanted someone else to "do."

So, sometimes, I'm surprised when people DON'T step up to the plate. I suppose that's a consequence of whom I surround myself with. I've mentioned on here before that I'm terribly selective on whom I call "friend." There's a reason for that. It's because I aspire to be like Ickey. Someone who will do what has to be done. And I want to be surrounded by folks like Ickey. And this is applicable across the whole spectrum of personal and professional life.

Maureen said...

What a great story.

When I was young I had this crazy perception of people from rural areas as being something like the Beverly Hllibillies. Over the years. of course, I met many people from different areas and realized how silly my ideas were. Now I would love to be away from the traffic and the malls.

Cassondra said...

Donna said:

And yes, I have several of the machine-embroidered jeans, but they're just not the same, you know? And I have rips in my jeans, but it has nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with holiday poundage (not a pretty sight).

Donna, you're right. They're not as good. In fact, I don't own any of the machine embroidered jeans because of that. After the iris, they're lacking. As far as rips, mine always seem to get ripped in the knees first, and then in the fanny--I walk 'round for months with my knees hanging out of my jeans.

People say, "can't you afford new jeans?

I say, "I'm a writer. I do a lota prayin."

jo robertson said...

Wow, what a wonderful allegory, Cassondra! So glad you have that special picture of Ickey and Steve.

OMG, I so get the chocolate thing and the worst part is that I'd probably eat the substandard stuff anyway! Very sad.

Cassondra said...

Caren,

Thank you for the condolences. Isn't it funny how we get attached to our non-human companions? I mean, most folks don't think of chickens as companions, but they're so fun to have around. Even if I (and my stick) did have to face off with Icky every now and then. He came after me sometimes, but I knew, after the bobcat incident and seeing what he could really do, that he didn't mean it.

And see! I knew somebody would remember Rosey Grier (sorry I spelled it wrong the first time.) He was the definition of enigma, wasn't he?

And your brother--ah, he and I, we're soul siblings. It's that attention to detail thing. I bet he's as good with building as he is with highlights!

Fess up. Do either of you ever beg him to do your hair? I would. After some of the highlight jobs I see leaving the salon? Oh yeah. Maybe you should offer to pay him.

Cassondra said...

Hi Denise! I'm so glad you stopped by--especially when you're in the Deadline cave--that's so special that you took time to comment.

Do you find you get interesting reactions when you tell people that you write and also what you write? I sure do. Goodness knows what they expect someone who writes erotic and fantasy romance to look like, but I ain't it!

Ha! They don't expect me to say I write romantic suspense either. I admit, when I don't have the energy to field the stupid questions, I say the word "romantic" a bit more quietly and I say "suspense" really loud.

Their eyebrows hit the ceiling every time.

That's lame of me, isn't it? To avoid the stupidity by fudging? Some of them DO expect me to write romance. In particular the older men. I've even had it asked that way when I say I'm a writer. "Huh-huh-huh, what do you write, ROOOOmance?"

That one, I looked dead in the eye with my most evil stare and said "Suspense. The kind with lots of dead bodies."

I'm a wimp. I freely admit it, right here in front of God and everybody.

You know, I admire you Denise. If I had to say, "I write erotic fantasy" I'd have to go to therapy. I'm not that evolved. I dunno. Maybe the quarterly check would help me out with that one.

Cassondra said...

Dianna said:

Perseverance, is that not what writing is all about?

Amen sistah! (high five while jumping in the air). And recently, I'm needing to develop my steelish will a bit. I'm grateful to have the Banditas cuz when I want to quit, they threaten me with stuff--hunting me down with wolves and such.

I think it's the fact that he didn't give up when the bobcat had injured him so horribly that impresses me most. I'd faced off with icky, but a few pokes with my stick and he'd always back down and go back to doing other rooster stuff. This time he didn't back down, not when most PEOPLE I know would have turned tail and run.

I need to be more like Ickey in the pursuit of my goals.

ruth said...

What a touching and heartfelt story. I have a small dog who is a Corgi mix. He is very protective of his family, all of us and whenever an intruder does visit he is on the alert. This young man, who was large, was employed to do some outside work but Bogie did not trust him and rightly so. He raced after the fellow and bit him through his jeans. Never to be seen again. The fellow was at least 250 lbs. and Bogie is 18 lbs. the most.

Cassondra said...

Christie said:

Cassondra, you're supposed to let us kow when you're going to write a tear-jerker. No fair. Too early in the morning.

I hear you Bandita sister. I'm on my third cup. But morning? I saw the dark part of it, but I've been up for less than two hours now.

You know, I actually felt guilty after I posted it. I was thinking, "nobody likes a sad post." :0/ Especially first thing.

Sorry about that. I owe you a glass of wine in SanFran. A happy glass.

Suzanne Welsh said...

Oh Cassondra, what a great heroic story about Ickey! (wiping tears from my eyes!)

I lived in Ohio when Ickey Woods played for Cincinnatti. He was a running back, either full back or half back. But I loved watching his Ickey shuffle!

Okay, my misperception story is about our family poodle, Chip. When I was growing up we had the big curly mut with foo-foo ears and tails. A standard size poodle, but a poodle just the same. Wimpy, right? I don't think so!

One day I was about 10 and playing outside. Chip was hanging with me. Suddenly from two yards over the neighbors German Shephard got loose and headed right for our yard. Chip and I ran to the back porch. Chip stood on the porch beside me growling with fangs showing, and fighting off the shepard that was trying to pound on us. Me, I was crying and pounding on the door for my dad.

Once he came out, the dog ran off, but Chip...he was my hero!! My dad was quite surprised at how fierce he protected me. (I think Chip got steak for dinner that night.)

Cassondra said...

gillian said:

And I grew up on a farm, so your story didn't surprise me, but it did make me cry. Poor brave rooster, good for him! A bobcat got my Cocker spaniel about 15 years ago. They are fierce creatures.

Yes, they are! They're also fiercely beautiful creatures. You know, It's breathtaking to see them in the wild I'm certain. I love big cats as a rule. But honestly, I grew up, as a little girl (very little) running around the woods on our farm and the surrounding farms. I felt completely safe doing it. Then there were no coyotes here, no bobcats, no wolves, no bears--all which are native to Kentucky. Coyotes have been reintroduced, and they're working on wolves now I think. I'd be reluctant to let my seven-or-eight year old, small-for-her-age girl go off in the woods alone.

Of course, the worst predators now would be human. But still. We're a bit scared of what we aren't used to, I guess. It was nice though. To grow up in a time and place where I was free to roam the outdoors and was safe doing so.

Sigh. Those days are gone, I fear.

Cassondra said...

Oh, gillian I also meant to say, isn't that interesting! Your perception of what your husband and girls would pick turned right on its head!

I bet you're a fine color picker. I bet you get there and in the face of all those paint chips, you just get flustered.

Are you a libra, like me? *must weigh every decision as though it were the end of the world!* Yup, that'd be me.

Jeanne (AKA The Duchesse) said...

Great post, Cassondra!

Wow, Fedora, you got the GR two in a row! Wheeeee! Had to snork about Anna having "Rooster Withdrawl" - then again, she got that gladiator voucher, so Roosters beware!

Have to agree on the chocolates that are old/crayon-y, though. Ugh. SUCH a disappointment. Got some of those in a basket at a conference. Don't know if the author just used old choco or if the plane ride did it in, but...bleeeech.

Cassondra, your O-book-club reference reminds me why I don't like Oprah's book club. Grins. I was also howling over the holes in the knees thing. I usually look at them with a bland smile and say, "Ripped it sliding into third to beat the double play." Given the way I look, they usually drop open their jaw and goggle. Snork.

Oh, and P226 taught the GR some code, did'ya see the cipher yesterday? Some guy thing... But, dear P226, I do agree with your statement about wanting to surround yourself w/ those who "do" - welcome to the Bandit Lair! ha! - I feel the same way which is why I'm here. Grins.

Much as I love wildcats (and boy, you're right about that scream, Beth), I wept for Ickey's loss. We're getting coyotes moving into the 'burbs near DC and that yowling's pretty primal too. Reminds us that nature, She is harsh.

Misperceptions? Ha! Cassondra, you and I as suspense authors are walking misperceptions. Snork. I don't think anyone looking at us would think we could write about guts n' guns. Of course have you seen Lisa Gardner and Allison Brennan? They don't look all that bloodthirsty either. Grins.

Cassondra said...

Hi deb marlowe!

We had bobcats where I grew up and they really did sound like a woman screaming!

Scariest sound I've ever heard on a dark night. Ever.

I remember lying in my bed (which was by a window) as a little girl in the summer, and the first time I heard a screech owl up really close it freaked me out. (I was probably four or five). Went running into my parents' bedroom. "Daddy, daddy, there's something outside screaming."

"It's probably a screech owl," he said. He got up and came to my room and we sat by the window until it screeched again. "Yep, screech owl."

I was okay then. I'm glad I never heard a bobcat as a child. *shiver* That sound makes the world seem much less safe.

Cassondra said...

Hi WonderBeth!

We have bobcats here as well. I've never seen one in the wild but my brother-in-law came across one caught in a trap one time (big one - the bobcat, not the trap) and our niece actually hit one while delivering mail on a rural route.

Wow. Y'all must have a LOT of them. Like I said, I've never seen one, and I don't know anybody around here who has seen one other than the one Ickey killed. I have to wonder if somebody brought it from another part of the state as a kitten, raised it, and then realised it was NOT gonna be a pet. They're just not around here.

And Beth, you do look so sweet in that picture. And nice. Boy, us little ones have the whole world fooled, don't we? Well, I gave some of it away though when I started with the black fingernail polish. Now they're onto me.

Cassondra said...

doglady said:

It teaches never to underestimate any creature.

Yes, that's an important lesson, isn't it? And half or better is pure determination. There are probably not too many people who haven't been attacked by a tiny wren or cardinal if you get too close to its nest of babies. Talk about David and Goliath! But they just keep diving at you until you go running. Pure grit in a feather ball.

And a man who appreciates that kind of friendship from what others consider an insignificant creature is a real hero. You got a keeper there, Cassondra!

He is a real hero, doglady. In a whole bunch of ways. Thank you for saying so.

Cassondra said...

Omigosh. Doglady I scrolled down and saw the story of the baritone!

Whooooweeeee, what a misperception!

I bet that man was never the same after all that attention! (grin)

Isn't that lovely, though? To see that transformation in someone? To see that they're so much more then the first impression let on?

Anna Campbell said...

Ooh, Pam, his voice was like liquid sex? How wonderful is that phrase? Had you ever thought about writing - lol!

Cassondra, love your praying comment! Snork! On the perception thing, I love it when people turn out to have these unexpected corners in their personalities. Love, love, love it.

Cassondra said...

Joanie, thank you for caring about Ickey along with us! I suppose some would say he was just doing what instinct drove him to do. I don't know for sure that I'd agree with that...

also agree with whoever said that Ickey the rooster is a symbol of persverance. We should develop an "Ickey" award for writers!

You know, that's not a bad idea! Maybe we should! Doglady already brought us the Golden Rooster. The Ickey award might fit right in.

But do you think anybody would want to be notified that they've just gotten the Ickey award?

Hmmmmm. I dunno. Have to work on the details I guess.

Jennifer Y. said...

You made me cry!!!

What a wonderful story about Ickey! And a great post about misperceptions.

We have a cat that was the runt of the litter. Even now she isn't much bigger than she was as a kitten...kind of like a miniature cat. Well, her size definitely is deceiving. The other animals around here think they can push her around, steal her food, etc. But she is a tough little cat that is not afraid to face those that are bigger than her...she seems to know no fear. We had a huge raccoon show up on the backporch once...while all the other bigger cats went and hid, she walked right up to it and ate alongside it. And it never bothered her.

sabrina said...

Fascinating story which struck home.
I have always been small, always and still am. I am intimidated by size, men and women. To compensate for this I make up for it by being confident and working out. Instead of being flabby and heavy I am lithe and strong. Most are fooled and think that they can take advantage of this lack of stature. Sorry, it does not happen. Same as the rooster. Loved the story.

Cassondra said...

hellion said:

The closest I come to answering is...people realize I'm a lot "darker" and "philosophical" than their first impression of me, which they usually sum up as: "flakey." But I don't think that's the same...

Well it's not far off if it's not the same.

I get a misperception with some frequency. Because I'm small and a woman I guess---because I wear lipstick? Because I have long hair? I dunno....people just make assumptions. In particular when I used to actively pursue martial arts. I remember one specific incident when I visited a new school--in the same style that my husband studied as a boy--I was wanting to switch to that style after watching he and his brothers fight--anyhow, I showed up to watch a class, then I attended a class at invitation, and later one of the instructors came up to me, and she was looking at me kinda funny and said, "you know, you surprised me."

I said, "Whaddayamean?"

She said, "We all thought you were fluff."

I guess you could call me something more insulting, but I'm not certain I can think of anything at this point... :0/

Gillian Layne said...

Oh, dear Lord, Cassondra, I AM a Libra! October 18th.

Now I have chills. I shouldn't, though, should I? It's our hallmark trait...the ability to make every decision into an earth-shattering event.

Maybe Libras should have a support group...although no could decide a leader, or a time to meet, or what to call ourselves....:)

Cassondra said...

P226 said:

....I aspire to be like Ickey. Someone who will do what has to be done. And I want to be surrounded by folks like Ickey. And this is applicable across the whole spectrum of personal and professional life.

Me, too, 226. Me, too.

The admirable can from the most unexpected places, can't it?

Cassondra said...

maureen said:

When I was young I had this crazy perception of people from rural areas as being something like the Beverly Hllibillies.

That's be me yer talkin' 'bout so watch yer language there ya city slicker. (grin)

Now I would love to be away from the traffic and the malls.

Oh, Maureen. I lived "in town" the first two years we were married and now if I had to do so--well, I guess I'd live through it. I don't know. I look out my windows now and I see nothing but fields. It's like the breath of life to me. The only landscape that would be more so would be woodland. I NEED the country to thrive. I love to visit New York City! But I need the country. I have to be in dire need of something that I can get ONLY at the mall before I'll go there. I try to lump all the stuff for a month into one trip. I hate it. I think it's all the noise coming at me from all directions--combined with the funky lighting. The lighting is awful. So...flourescent..or something.

Cassondra said...

JoMama said:

OMG, I so get the chocolate thing and the worst part is that I'd probably eat the substandard stuff anyway! Very sad.

Sad? I'm eating six-month old Dove dark chocolate promises as we speak. Sad. Yes, it is sad. But I do it too. It's chocolate. I need it.

Cassondra said...

Back to something doglady said that I meant to note:

OMG He has a voice that you could wrap around you like a fur blanket. The tone, the inflection dances over your skin like liquid sex.

Uh...is there any QUESTION about why doglady is a writer in our genre? (evil grin).

Doglady, if it's any consolation, I know a man with a voice like that. I mean, I know a lot of good singers from working in the music business, but when they talk, they sound just like anyone else. But I was running an event one year in Nashville, and I came into the office to find a voicemail from Michael Peterson. He's about 6'7", totally gorgeous--the whole package for a record deal. But I'd never spoken with him in person.

"Hi, Cassondra. This is Michael Peterson..." I sank into my chair and played it, over and over and over. Holy chocolate truffles Batman! Liquid sex. Yup.

I kept that message on my voicemail for about two years. He left his number at home, and his cell. I had to be professional and I couldn't call it just to hear his voice, ya know? I swear I never did call without a real reason. Still gives me shivers to think about it.

Cassondra said...

ruth said:

Bogie did not trust him and rightly so. He raced after the fellow and bit him through his jeans. Never to be seen again. The fellow was at least 250 lbs. and Bogie is 18 lbs. the most.

Ha! Another triumph through pure grit. So glad you have Bogie there Ruth. Please say this creep didn't try to hurt you in any way. If he did, Bogie should have done far worse. "Go for the crotch, Bogie!"

catslady said...

Well you definitely made me cry! I had no idea a rooster could/would fight a bobcat. I do remember my mother telling me stories of having to go into the hen house for eggs and how much she hated it lol.

As far as preconceptions - it's usually people for me. I really try not to judge anyone by looks but somehow you just can't help it on first sight.

When my daughter was 19 a friend from work got her to meet his friend who was also in the art field like her to help her with her work. The first time he came to the house I almost had a heart attack. It was winter and he had on a black leather jacket, one of those black knit caps which covered a very long pony tail and he was 6'3" (my daughter is 5'2").
Well it turns out he is the nicest person you could ever meet and now goes with my daughter. He's also 35 and I really wanted to dislike him but I just can't lol. I always tell him that if I had seen him on the street at night I would have been petrified. He is actually amazed at this lol.

Cassondra said...

Suz said:

I lived in Ohio when Ickey Woods played for Cincinnatti. He was a running back, either full back or half back. But I loved watching his Ickey shuffle!

Oh, Suz! I'm so glad someone else remembers Ickey doing the shuffle. You know, the rule-mongers were always fining the Bengals when he did that. I was like, "let them have the celebration, that touchdown was hard to get!" I mean, it's not like the Bengals were giving the other team the finger or something...The whole stadium would sometimes shuffle with him (well, at least half the stadium anyhow).

And see! Stories of grit, bravery...and misperceptions...are all over!

Did you know standard poodles are one of the smartest breeds? They make EXCELLENT search & rescue dogs. Their coats are hard to care for, so you don't see them much (SAR dogs get into all kinds of grime) but those in the field excel at what they do. Good for Chip!

Helen said...

Cassondra I loved Ickey's story what a wonderful Chicken he was.
The old saying is so true you can't judge a book by its cover. People that you think are really strong fall apart easily and people you think won't cope with things get tougher.

Congrats flchen1 on the GR after this story I am sure we are going to love him even more.
Have Fun
Helen

Cassondra said...

Jeanne said:

Of course have you seen Lisa Gardner and Allison Brennan? They don't look all that bloodthirsty either. Grins.

Okay I nearly spewed coffee. Not because this is incorrect. I've never seen Allison. But I saw Lisa Gardner do a luncheon keynote at a conference, and she actually did a "strut" across the stage.

It was a talk about, I think, celebrating the small stuff and getting ready for the big stuff. She made us all get up from our chocolate cheesecake and practice our "strut" for when we sold! So in a post about a rooster, you brought up Lisa, and...well...spewage.

Cassondra said...

jennifer y said:

We had a huge raccoon show up on the backporch once...while all the other bigger cats went and hid, she walked right up to it and ate alongside it. And it never bothered her.

Ha! It's the little ones you've gotta watch out for. See? When you're little, you've gotta get fast and fight dirty. Nobody expects that. I bet she's so used to everything being bigger than she is, it doesn't bother her any more. No FEAR!

terrio said...

Great blog. What a story? And what a rooster? I never would have guess they could be so tough.

The misperception I found is that if a guy is a big guy, former football player, he's tough. That's so not the case. Found out the hard way.

He was a total wuss, mama's boy.

Cassondra said...

sabrina said:

Most are fooled and think that they can take advantage of this lack of stature. Sorry, it does not happen. Same as the rooster. Loved the story.

Oh yeah. I'm little too, Sabrina. The thing I hate is when you get one of those people who purposely looms over you to use their size as an energetic intimidator. Hate. That. I was working at a little diner one time just to help the owner, who was a good friend. Her rat of a husband came up behind me one day when I had my head stuck in the office digging in my purse. He was like two inches from me and yelled AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!.

Can I just say, I hate to be startled on purpose. It's mean.

I screamed this primal scream that actually hurt my throat, which made me even madder cuz I was a singer at the time. I whirled on him, and landed my fist right in his ribs. You should have seen his jaw drop. Then I was so mad I double punched him again. I'm glad I was coherent enough to not hit him in the face. That might have caused a fuss.

Hey, nobody could say it wasn't a reflex. Everybody in the place stood up and just gawked. They talked about it for days. He never did it again.

Now I'm not advocating physical violence or anything. But girls should be taught to fight.

Because of rotten husbands, rotten bosses...well...they just should. There I said it, right here in front of God and everybody.

Cassondra said...

gillian said:

Oh, dear Lord, Cassondra, I AM a Libra! October 18th.

Now I have chills. I shouldn't, though, should I? It's our hallmark trait...the ability to make every decision into an earth-shattering event.

Maybe Libras should have a support group...although no could decide a leader, or a time to meet, or what to call ourselves....:)


Haha! That is hilarious. It is our hallmark trait isn't it? But I've overcome that trait. I got tired of not being able to decide which freakin' flavor of ice cream to get (Baskin Robbins has too darn many flavors can I just say that?)

But when I ran events I came quickly to understand that when people are depending on you to make decisions, the best thing to do is simply make one. For good or for ill, list the pros and cons as you can see them at the time, and make the bloody choice. Give the order. Set a course in motion. It's empowering I'll tell ya.

And as to the paint, go for the scary one. I've found that to be the best way nearly every time. You know, we libras like balance. But we also love that which is beautiful. We NEED beauty in order to thrive. Often, in landscaping and decorating, I've come to see that this is accomplished with bold moves. The ones that scare us.

In life, when faced with fear, that's the way I've always done it too. I have to rappel down a 100 foot cliff? Fine. Take a few deep breaths, look at the rock in front of you, and go.

Trust yourself and take risks. I've managed to learn those skills in every arena except one....fiction writing. I've gotten closer, but I've a ways to go still.

Cassondra said...

catslady said:

I do remember my mother telling me stories of having to go into the hen house for eggs and how much she hated it lol.

Catslady, there is indeed a skillset involved with gathering eggs. You wouldn't think so, would you? When I said I can clearly understand "Get your hand out from under me that egg is MINE." I wasn't kidding. When you go to gather the eggs, one of the most pleasant--and intimidating--things to do is to get the eggs out from under the hen who has decided to sit on them for a while.

Pleasant because it's warm and wonderful in the straw underneath those feathers, made almost hot by the hen's body. Intimidating because have you ever heard a hen growl at you?

Well, they do. They get a bit testy about the egg they just laid (wouldn't you? I mean think of it...that's a lot of work...creating an egg, keeping it whole, passing it out of your body...then having some whipper snapper come and steal it right out from under you! The nerve!)

First she growls, then she looks at your hand, and then...she pecks it. Hard. Ow!

And while all that's going on you have to keep your eye on the rooster, who's circling and doing the Ickey shuffle, waiting for an opening.

It's a skillset. I'm tellin ya.

Cassondra said...

Oh, catslady, I meant to add:

Well it turns out he is the nicest person you could ever meet and now goes with my daughter. He's also 35 and I really wanted to dislike him but I just can't lol. I always tell him that if I had seen him on the street at night I would have been petrified

I was laughing when I read this. Those of us in the arts community can sort of be in our own worlds can't we? That's funny. His appearance was scary to you, but to him it seemed normal. (That's cuz all the artsy people--you know--the writers and musicians and artists and theatre folks--they--uh..well..WE--all look --well, we ARE a bit off...)

I think it's so cool that you found him to be such a wonderful person, when his appearance says the opposite to you.

Love the twisting of a misperception. Love it.

Cherie J said...

Aww! What a touching story! As far as misconceptions, don't we all have them. I know I had some about hubby when we were first married. I expected him to guess what I needed because I figured we were soul mates and he was supposed to know what I wanted. I quickly learned that I could not expect him to guess what I wanted, I needed to communicate what my needs are. Once I figured that out our marriage relationship was alot smoother.

Cassondra said...

Helen said:

The old saying is so true you can't judge a book by its cover. People that you think are really strong fall apart easily and people you think won't cope with things get tougher.

Ain't it the truth, Helen, ain't it the truth!

Cassondra said...

terrio said:

The misperception I found is that if a guy is a big guy, former football player, he's tough. That's so not the case. Found out the hard way.

He was a total wuss, mama's boy.


Yup. They're wusses. Usually. Steve says they're the ones who pass out at the medical office when you go to give them a shot also.

To a one. If they're a ginormous football player, they faint when they get a shot.

Then, in direct contrast, there's cute, feminine JoMama, who has personally passed seven wonderful children from her body through NATURAL childbirth.

Let us pause now, and bow toward the West Coast, where JoMama lives, in a moment of silent awe and inspiration......

Cassondra said...

cherij said:

As far as misconceptions, don't we all have them. I know I had some about hubby when we were first married. I expected him to guess what I needed because I figured we were soul mates and he was supposed to know what I wanted.

Oh, cherij. We do all have them don't we. I think that's why they work so well as a tool for writers. IT's universal.

And as far as that belief about the husband--well...that's about universal too I think. But let's see...I'm guessing that belief took about two weeks to go down the toilet?

Mine took less than that, but I'm being generous. Not that I figured it out that fast, but you know....the down the toilet part--that didn't take long.

Cassondra said...

Oh, and gillian:

Oh, dear Lord, Cassondra, I AM a Libra! October 18th.

I've got another secret. It took me YEARS to realize it.

They won't stop making paint. You can paint over the bloody stuff. Honest. IT won't make the room that much smaller. I know, I know, it'll cost some money. But it's not worth the angst. Go for COLOR BABY. Go for it.

I swear it took me years to get there. YEARS.

Jeanne (AKA The Duchesse) said...

Cassondra, you crack me up, you and Gillian and the paint. Being a Sagittarius, I'll paint it one day, and if I don't like it repaint it the next. Ha! Very little angst over paint choices, but settle down? Hmmmm more difficult.

Had to LOL about the comments about the big guys keeling over. My midwife, who delivered my first child, took me aside before labor and delivery to ask if my DH was squeamish. She said, "Big guys faint a lot, I've found, and I'm going to be worrying about the baby, not him. If he goes down, he's gonna hit the floor, you get that, right?" (My DH is 6'3")

Heehee. I laughed till I cried. Partly because of one of those misconceptions. My DH is a very mild mannered guy, quiet, kinda studious, an accountant. Even I, perceptive person that I am (SNORK with laughter here all you want), TOTALLY underestimated him. I love sports. I remember Rosey, and his needlepoint, Ickey, Sweetness, and the Iron Curtain. Actually, I guess I should say I love football! Ha! The DH, well, he just don't look like he'd be that athletic, you know? Accountant. Grey hair. Glasses.

Snork some more here because he played football, basketball, baseball, and (drum roll)rugby. Heck, he STILL plays four-on-four no ref basketball. In college hauled furniture, did night watch stuff, and once chased down a burglar. So, when the midwife asked about him keeling over I told her about the rugby.

She laughed too.

Christine Wells said...

Cassondra your talent and passion just can't go undiscovered much longer. What a fantastic post. Your Steve looks like a real sweetie and I hate to think of him having to put down such a wonderful pet.

As a writer I like to use people's assumptions and misconceptions to trick them into believing what they want to believe, then turn that on its head. I did that (hopefully) in Scandal's Daughter. It was fun hearing from everyone who read it that they didn't see the 'twist' coming.

Fedora, this is becoming a habit! Looks like the GR wants to roost with you a while.

alissa said...

A great post today which is so heartfelt and warm. I appreciated the entire story. Perceptions sometimes are what lead us astray. I am small, really small, an adult of 4'9" and am an assistant D.A. I strut around and make myself visible and am successful and won't take nonsense from anyone. When I started this job everyone thought that I would cave. I won the rookie award and am still here. So there!

Jeanne (AKA The Duchesse) said...

Yeah, Alissa! I have a friend who's like you - 4'9" - she's a hardworking Mom to two and she doesn't take lip from anyone either. You GO girl!

Cassondra said...

Christine said:

As a writer I like to use people's assumptions and misconceptions to trick them into believing what they want to believe, then turn that on its head. I did that (hopefully) in Scandal's Daughter. It was fun hearing from everyone who read it that they didn't see the 'twist' coming.

Christine, Scandal's Daughter is a FABULOUS example. Not only of the heroine's thinking the hero was so wrong for her, but in exactly that twist of which you speak.

And it's such an interesting multi-layered book when we speak of misperceptions. Even the heroine was taught to perceive HERSELF in a certain way, and was convinced that others perceived her in that way...but what do you know...all turned on its head.

In Scandal's Daughter, almost everything that happens is based on a misperception of some kind. Brilliant!

Devils aren't we, as writers, for making such use of universal human tendencies--such as the tendency to jump to conclusions? (evil grin)

Cassondra said...

alissa said:

I am small, really small, an adult of 4'9" and am an assistant D.A.

WOOOOT! You get the misperception award for the day thus far!

Of course they thought you'd cave.

What's that saying? It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog?

Yup.

You go, girl. Strut around that courtroom like the woman of steel you are!

Christine Wells said...

Cassondra, that's exactly what SD is all about--the image you have of yourself and how it can be shaped by others. Even Sebastian had this image of himself as irresponsible and uncaring, because everyone told him so. It was Gemma taking a different view of him that became the catalyst to changing his ways and becoming the man he was destined to be.

How do you always come up with these terrific posts? They get me choked up every time.

Cassondra said...

Christine said:

How do you always come up with these terrific posts? They get me choked up every time.

Oh, thank you Christine.

I'm just...well...I dunno. Angsty.

(whine) I wanna be light and write funny short stuff. I wanna write fluff. (/whine)

It is not to be.

diane said...

Ickey is something else. Great blog and story. When we meet someone our first impressions can be wrong many times. This did happen to me. I met this lovely young woman whose sweet nature disguised a multitude of issues. Fortunately I was able to extricate myself from this friendship. It was amusing though to hear her twist everyone around her finger with her innocence.

Keira Soleore said...

Blogger ate my post from yesterday, and since I'm so jet-lagged and tired, my mind doesn't remember what I wrote then. In other words, I'm back home and back at The Lair.

What a great story, Cassondra. I'm so sorry about Ickey and so proud of him, too.

Joan said...

Keira!

Welcome home!

Susan Seyfarth said...

Hey, Cassondra, I just wanted to say what a touching story this was. I've been in a tizzy since before Christmas & have been AWOL from the blog but I had to pop up when I read about Ickey. What a hero. And I mean that sincerely. What a marvelous, surprising, three-dimensional hero. I've read a great many books whose heroes could learn a thing or two from your valiant rooster. Thanks for telling us his story. It's a wonderful reminder that for all the complicated backstory we give our characters, sometimes bravery & goodness are very, very simple. Not easy, but simple.

Susan

Anna Campbell said...

Hey, Keira! Welcome back to the lair! We've really missed you. Hope you had a great trip!

Christine Wells said...

Welcome back Keira! Great to have you home. We wondered where you were.

Suzanne Welsh said...

Hey Keira! Welcome back to the Lair!

Cassondra said...

diane said:

I met this lovely young woman whose sweet nature disguised a multitude of issues. Fortunately I was able to extricate myself from this friendship. It was amusing though to hear her twist everyone around her finger with her innocence.

Ooooooo, Diane. Nice one.

Great character too. Ha! I'm gonna use that if you're not gonna. (now the true nature of a writer comes out--profiting (hopefully) from the evils and misfortunes of others. Muahahahahhahahahaha!!!)

Oh, ahem...Diane, you're absolutely correct. First impressions can be dead wrong. Ahem.

Cassondra said...

In other words, I'm back home and back at The Lair.


Keira! We missed you! Everyone's been saying "where is Keira?"

Cyberhugs, and welcome back!!!! Oh, and email me about the critique when you get a chance--did you ever connect with Dianna Love Snell?

Cassondra said...

Susan said:

It's a wonderful reminder that for all the complicated backstory we give our characters, sometimes bravery & goodness are very, very simple. Not easy, but simple.

Nothing I could say could add to something this absolutely profound. Leave it to SmoovT to call it like it is.

Keira Soleore said...

(((Banditas))) thank you for the grand welcome back to the Lair. National registration is coming up. wo0t! Anyone looking for a roomie?

Cassondra said...

Keira, I know I'm already paired up for SanFran, but this is a great approach. Bound to be a homeless writer out there about to sign up for conference. (registration opens Monday, doesn't it?

We'll keep our ears to the ground for you!

Terri said...

Wow Cassondra what an amazing story. So true that there are so many people out there that we have no clue what they are made of until they show us. Poor Ickey that was so sad but what a brave soul he was! I am also happy that you sent me a link to this site.

Cassondra said...

Terri said:

I am also happy that you sent me a link to this site.

Hi Terri! Glad you made it over! Hope you stick around. Lots of good stories and fun around the lair.

Helen said...

Donna yes it says historical to me even if her hair is down the beautiful dress and the building on the cover says that to me June seems like such a long way off though
Have Fun
Helen

Souriya said...

Thank you for sharing a wonderful story may your rooster rest in peace knowing he saved his hens.