Anne B. Walsh - Do you believe in magic?
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Oops, story, and vacation
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Anne's Randomness

All About Anne

The Tale of the Ten Bosses

Once upon a time, in an office building not so far away, which belonged to a company called Glass Bathroom Bank, there worked a young woman called Cinderanna. Now Cinderanna was an administrative assistant, which means that it was her job to help the people in her department to do their jobs. But Cinderanna had a bit of a problem.
 
You see, Cinderanna was a nice person. Maybe a little too nice. Whether people were in her department or not, Cinderanna would help them if they asked for it.

The continuing adventures of Mr. Latvian Door

So apparently being Mr. Latvian Door is not enough for my troublesome brother. He also has to be a hero. I'm getting the feel of kids' books here, along the lines of the Captain Underpants series: "Mr. Latvian Door and the Dancing Pineapple". "Mr. Latvian Door and the Driving Lessons". And then there's Mr. Latvian Door's sidekick...
 
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Our story begins with Mr. Latvian Door at one of his favorite places, namely, church.

When it's a brother

Most of us have told that horrible old joke, "When is a door not a door? When it's ajar!" at some point. I would like to propose a new answer, that which titles today's blog post. Make sense? Of course it doesn't, not yet. This is my family we're talking about. It might, however, make a bit more sense once you have some background.
 
My sister, theater geek that she is, likes accents. She will often become the Latvian Lady in the course of everyday conversation, just for kicks and giggles.

Keeping my balance

Anyone who writes, or anyone who reads, for that matter, should be familiar with the concept of the balancing act. Stories are, in so many ways, made up of delicate balances. Characters and plot, conflict and comfort, humor and drama, all need to be constantly rebalanced against one another to keep the story-machinery working.
 
As if that weren't enough, there are also balances affecting the author of those stories. Balancing writing with what is sometimes called a "real life" is one.

Before and after

Good morning, O readers! Ordinarily, today would be Why Do I Work Here Wednesday, in which I would give you pictorial evidence that my coworkers at my day job here at Glass Bathroom Bank (not its real name) are secretly five-year-olds in cleverly designed adult costumes. But this morning, I am in a better mood than that.
 
Why? Oh, I don't know. Could be the wonderful vocal stylings of Straight No Chaser at their concert last night. Could be my new, just-released Christmas collection.

No.

If someone invited you, O readers, to pursue a profession in which it was an ordinary part of business for anonymous strangers to casually walk up and gut-punch you or kick your teeth in, I think your response would probably be similar to the title of this post. No. Just no. Why should any sane person allow themselves to be hurt like that?
 
I have this feeling frequently, although the punches and kicks in my line of work tend to be verbal, not physical. Such as long-winded, critical anonymous reviews.

Ordinarily

Ordinarily, today would be Why Do I Work Here Wednesday, on which I would amuse and delight you with tales of the follies of the office in which I spend most of my waking hours. Ordinarily, I would provide pictures to accompany my light and entertaining little tale. Ordinarily, all this would have been done some hours ago.
 
As you may have guessed, today is not ordinary. I am still trying to figure out how to handle my body's current state of revolt, since medication isn't working.

Whole lot of no fun

The blog post title for today could also be a good title for my weekend. It started with an allergic reaction to a medication by the roommate, which led to a truly miserable 18 hours for her, and shortly after we were able to get her the medicine that would help, my body responded to the stress with shooting pains through my back and hip.
 
Long-time readers may recognize that this pain pattern has hit me before, though this is the first time it's been purely because of emotional stressors.

And so it ends

Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a girl, twenty years old but still very young, and that girl loved the books of the Harry Potter series. One of her two roommates got her interested in reading fan fiction, and then in writing it, and one day a thought came to the girl. What if, somehow, Harry could have had a family?
 
The girl intended this story to be brief. She would sketch out what might have been in a few short chapters, and then return to her more serious, canon-based fic.

My un-vacation

Well, I knew I needed time off from the office, but a migraneous head cold, or a head-cold-induced migraine, was not the way I wanted to go about it! But for most of last week, starting shortly after my last blog post, that was what had hold of me, and that is why I have been less active than usual online and haven't posted a chapter.
 
Now, before you start tossing sympathy, be aware that my migraines are not (usually) terribly painful. They do, however, mess with both my vision and my balance.
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