Zack is Ready

Note to self.  Today I unleashed Zack in the unsuspecting FanLitters.  God forgive me.

Alice

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Arabian Ski Resort

Arabian Ski Resort

Have you seen this one yet?  It’s a ski resort in Arabia.

On the slope

 Check out the moguls

 This is what it looks like from the outside:

oh

Alice

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The Tudor Follies: "Next!"

Mr. Al returns with the next segment from the life and times of Henry the VIII.  Next up, Anne of Cleves.

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 It was decided that a nice Protestant princess would fit the bill. A good looking one with large breasts if it could be managed. For the men around Henry, political and foreign relations were paramount. Especially from Cromwell’s perspective. Things weren’t looking good in Europe and England needed an ally to balance against any rapprochement that might spring up between King Francis and Charles. A princess from a German state would be good. Someone who would keep the Catholics looking over their shoulders. Would she be good looking and have big hooters? Cromwell didn’t care. He should have. Henry cared and Henry was the boy-o getting married. He was also, thanks to Cromwell, the king who had acquired a taste for judicial homicide.

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Bridehunters were sent forth to scour the duchies, landgreves, principalities, dukedoms, fiefdoms, bishoprics, boltholes and backwaters of the convoluted mess that would, in just a few short centuries, become modern Germany. These fellows finally settled on the Dukedom of Cleves. Where is/was Cleves? I’m not sure. It may have been near Flanders, unless it wasn’t. But the Duke of Cleves had a couple of unmarried daughters and a perpetual need for cash. And here comes Henry Tudor! A king who’s just rolling in it! An impoverished duke could do a heck of a lot worse for a son in law.

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Negotiations were started. The eldest daughter, Anne, seemed the best bet. Henry wanted to see the girl for himself. This idea was put aside as being too insulting. Henry sent a couple of trusted fellows to do some reconnaissance and report back on the, um…lay of the land, as it were. While this was going on, the duke had passed away and his eldest son was handling the matter. A very strict Protestant, this guy thought the whole idea of judging a woman by her appearance was, if not outright sinful, then in very poor taste. He wasn’t going to let his sister be subjected to THAT.

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 When Henry’s boys arrived for the interview, Anne was waiting for them. God alone knows what she was thinking because she wasn’t allowed to speak. And did she “stack” up? That question remained unanswered because she was wearing the sixteenth century German Protestant equivalent of a burka. All that could be made out was the color of her eyes. What were they going to tell Henry? Whatever the hell Cromwell told them to tell him! Cromwell wanted a treaty with a German Protestant state that would keep Francis and Charles off balance! He had international politics to worry about and Henry was after him about hooters and is she hot and when can I see her. Jeez!
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At one point Henry sent the court painter Hans Holbein to Cleves to paint Anne’s portrait. Not a big one or anything, a nice miniature. Just to give him some idea of what she looked like. A full frontal if he could manage it. From the chest up if it wasn’t too much trouble. The portrait still exists today. The woman in it certainly conveys a sense of what many people noticed about her when they met her. She had an air of peace and serenity about her. Of regal detachment. Of being above it all without being stuffy or aloof. She made a very positive first impression on most people she met. But then, of all the people she met, only one was going to marry her. People familiar with both Anne and the portrait agreed, Mister Holbein took rather a bit too much artistic license in making Anne look good. He couldn’t be blamed, he did what Cromwell ordered him to do.
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Henry didn’t blame Holbein. He was an artist; artists paint idealized portraits sometimes. He captured her inner beauty, Henry gave him that. The bitter truth of the matter was that Anne of Cleves was not, as far as Henry was concerned, even okay looking. Henry thought she was ugly. To add insult to injury, she wasn’t very bright. Anne had received very little formal education. Such things were unbecoming in a princess who’s main function in life was to be a baby factory to whomever her dad told her to marry.

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Henry very much enjoyed learned conversation and expected his wives to be able to keep up with him in that department. Anne spoke only German, had no interest in sports, gambling, hunting or anything else Henry loved. At one point Henry had admitted that sometimes a king had to marry someone who was less than perfect for the sake of the realm. Sometimes. But this wasn’t one of those times. There was one other problem with Anne.
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To quote Henry, “I liked her before not well, but now I like her much worse! She is nothing fair, and have very evil smells about her. I took her to be no maid by reason of the looseness of her breasts and other tokens, which, when I felt them, strake me to the heart, that I had neither will nor courage to prove the rest. I can have none appetite for displeasent airs. I have left her as good a maid as I found her.”
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He wrote this the morning after his wedding night.

****

Geesh, what a love match.

Thank you Mr. Al.  You say this one doesn’t lose her head over Henry?  Do tell.

Alice

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Pumpkin Parfait

I got this one off a thing Sunset magazine did on aol a couple years ago.  The kids love it.

 Pretty too

 1  jar (7 oz.) marshmallow creme
1  package (8 oz.) Neufchâtel (light cream) cheese, at room temperature
2  tablespoons thawed frozen orange juice concentrate
1  cup canned pumpkin
1/4  cup maple syrup
1 1/2  teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2  teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4  cup chopped toasted pecans
1/4  cup crumbled gingersnap cookies

1. In a bowl, with an electric mixer on medium speed, beat marshmallow creme, Neufchâtel, and 1 tablespoon orange juice concentrate until smooth.2. In another bowl, stir together pumpkin, maple syrup, cinnamon, nutmeg, and remaining tablespoon orange juice concentrate. Fold in 1/4 cup of the cream cheese mixture until no white streaks remain.

3. Spoon about 3 tablespoons of the remaining cream cheese mixture into each of four dessert or parfait glasses, followed by about 3 tablespoons of the pumpkin mixture. Repeat layers, ending with pumpkin. Chill until cold, at least 2 hours or up to 1 day. Just before serving, sprinkle each parfait with chopped pecans and gingersnap crumbs.

Yield: Makes 4 servings

writeNutrient();NUTRITION PER SERVING
CALORIES 458(37% from fat); FAT 19g (sat 9g); PROTEIN 8.2g; CHOLESTEROL 43mg; SODIUM 289mg; FIBER 1.7g; CARBOHYDRATE 69g

Betty Ray, Vancouver, Washington
writePublicationAppearance();Sunset, OCTOBER 2003

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Challenge 4 on FanLit Forever

Have any of you read the submissions for this round on FanLit Forever?  Oh my!  *fanning self and blushing*  It seems working from a photo this round was highly inspirational.  I can’t wait to do it again.  Actually, I didn’t.  I’ve already started on my Round 2 Challenge 4 entry even though it isn’t due for a couple of months.  It was just too fun to resist.

Alice

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Hanging In There

I’m feeling better and better.  Our house guest left around noon, so Mr. Al and I enjoyed a video; Chronicles of Ridick.  I love it.  I really hope to local video store has more.

I’m weaning myself from the pain meds, but forgive me if I’m still a little dopey.  It hurts around the incisions and the hernia, but the chest pains are gone, so I assume the gas as been absorbed.  The only time I really hurt is when I cough.

I’m going to kick back and take it easy this week end.  Hopefully by Monday I’ll be able to catch up on my blog roll.  Right now sitting at my desk is a problem and my laptop doesn’t have the bookmarks.

Thank you to everyone who surfed in to check on me.  I haven’t been good about responding, but I do appreciate all of you.

Alice

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Suzie’s House 20: Miranda’s Decision

Miranda tried not to take it personally when Drew looked mortified, spun on his heel, and marched up the stairs like the condemned, but it was a challenge after having him shrug her hand off then comfort Suzie.  Such comforting; so tender and thoughtful and concerned, as if nothing was more important to Drew than Suzie’s feelings. 

Miranda had gone to close the door so she wouldn’t have to look at them.  She hadn’t intended to accuse him of anything when she saw his car out front and asked if Vin’s attacker used it as an excuse to come inside their home. 

Who was she kidding?  If the nasty, jealous little imp that drove her had realized she could use his guilt to lash out at Drew she’d have been much more pointed about it.  Thank God the imp was quiet. 

Not that it was doing any good, because Drew must have some reason for marching up the stairs and Miranda seriously doubted it was to do his nails. 

“Drew?”  Suzie asked, looking as concerned as Miranda felt and beating her to the question a nanosecond faster.  “What are you doing?” 

He didn’t answer, nor did he slow down. 

“Drew!”  Miranda charged up the stairs with Suzie right behind her.  “What are you doing?” 

“I’ll take an overnight back for tonight, then come back for the rest later,” Drew said to Suzie over his shoulder. 

Miranda supposed it was appropriate for Drew to make arrangements with his landlord rather than answering Miranda directly, but….  He was moving out!  No! 

“You can’t go,”  Miranda and Suzie said at the same time as if they were sisters in spirit. 

“I have to go.”  Drew walked into his room without slowing down to talk.  “I have brought harm to your home.  As long as I stay…” 

“No, no.  You didn’t bring harm here.  No harm was done.  Right Suzie?”  Miranda whipped her head around, trying to figure out why Suzie simply stood in the door looking dejected while Drew pulled out a suitcase and started putting clothes into it.  “I mean except for Vin and that didn’t even happen here.” 

 

“As long as what, Drew?” 

Drew crossed the room, skirting around Miranda to put his hands on Suzie’s shoulders.  He held her at arms length, but with a look of such tenderness it made Miranda’s chest twist up uncomfortably.  “As long as I’m here, you will be vulnerable to the people I’m investigating.”   

Suzie’s lower lip wobbled as though she was about to cry.  She tried to look brave and ended up looking appealing as all Hell.  Miranda would have bet if she hadn’t been in the room Drew would have kissed Suzie.  A real kiss, not like that stolen thing Miranda had done with Drew in the hospital.  Suzie nodded agreement that Drew would have to go. 

Every so often in Miranda’s life there would come a moment of unusual clarity.  It felt as if the world took a step back and came to a stop just so Miranda could make a decision.  Now was one of those moments. 

Drew and Suzie were in love. 

If Drew moved out, Miranda could pretend they weren’t in love, but it wouldn’t change the fact.  If Drew stayed, then Miranda would have her nose rubbed in what she had planned – and could now never have – every time she looked at either one.  Drew would never treat Miranda like he treated Suzie. 

Before he was shot, Vin had said something important to Miranda.  Now his words echoed in her head.  “If we’re all supposed to be one big family, then who is the Daddy, Miranda?  Is it me or is it Drew?  Because if Suzie is the mommy, then you can’t have the daddy.” 

The imp raised her head.  All Miranda had to do was keep her mouth shut and Drew would move out.  He and Suzie were both being so stupidly noble about it.  And if Drew moved out, then Miranda could just keep doing her thing, not to mention making them both feel horrible which would only serve them right for blowing her off so many times. 

If she kept Drew from moving out, then Miranda would have to be stupidly noble too.  She’d have to admit she didn’t really love Drew.  Not in a serious way.  And she’d have to quit going after him. 

Miranda looked at her Jimmy Choo shoes, and the world napped back into place.  It was decision time. 

The previous was Suzie’s House 19: Drew’s Decision

This is Suzie’s House 20: Miranda’s Decision

Next is Suzie’s House 21: Well? What Did You Decide, Drew?

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This Is It

Tomorrow, or rather today if you are reading this on Wednesday, is the day I go in for surgery.  I am thoroughly unprepared.  I did not lay in TV dinners.  I did not arrange for someone to care for me.  I did not stock up on books and videos, though I still have about a hundred books in my TBR pile anyway.

Except to make sure the kids would be covered as need be, I have done nothing, not even my will.

I think it’s because I really don’t want to think about it.  I don’t want to feed energy to my fears.  I try to visualize a quick and easy surgery for my doctors and mostly succeeded.  I have excused myself for being out of it for a few days.  Outside of that, I’m just going to let things happen as they will.

Cross you fingers for me.

Alice

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Tudors: The Rise and Fall of Jane Seymour

Having seen the first two of Henry VIII’s wives bite the dust we are back for another guest blog with Mr. Al.  Let’s see how Jane fared.
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Apparently not one to shilly-shally, Queen-to-be Jane was busy with her wedding dress at the same time that Anne’s head was being chopped off. Some girls might, given the circumstances, have had reason to pause and consider what the future might hold. Some girls might. But not Jane. The marriage was announced to the Privy Council the same day that Anne died. Henry and Jane were married the next day at Hampton Court. Small ceremony, immediate family only, top secret, etc, etc. The Henry marriage drill. Jane then retreated to her family estate to prepare for the Official Wedding.
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Things had changed for Henry as a result of his relationships with Katherine and Anne. And not for the better. Already suspicious by nature, just like his paranoid dad, Henry became even more distrustful of those around him. No woman would ever again manipulate him to the extent that Anne did. Anne knew very well what buttons to push as regards Henry. What she lacked was the maturity or wisdom to know when to stop. As Henry’s disastrous marriage with Anne of Cleves would prove, handled the right way, Henry could be a pretty magnanimous guy. Handle Henry the wrong way, As Anne Boleyn discovered,  and he would stop at nothing to make someone else pay for his mistakes.
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Mrs. Henry Tudor the III had a couple of things going for her. One, she was as temperamentally different from Anne as night from day. Quiet, reserved, one is tempted to say docile. Although docile isn’t the right word to describe someone as ambitious as Jane. Jane was every bit as ambitious as Anne was and for the same reasons. To further the interests of her entire family. The other thing going for her was that, as a lady in Queen Anne’s service, she watched the entire Henry/Anne drama at close range.
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She was not going to make the same mistakes Anne made. Humble and submissive was just what the doctor ordered; Jane reasoned. She was right. After all, what would it profit her if she gained the whole world, but lost her head? Literally. Humble and submissive. No one, least of all Henry, could fault her for being a dutiful wife and a queen who discharged her royal duties without getting on her husbands nerves. Although Jane was a devout, conservative Catholic, Henry’s will was her law. If she did not support many of Henry’s changes in the church, and she did not, she had the good sense to keep her mouth shut.

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What kind of queen was Jane? Unfortunately, she didn’t live long enough to really leave her stamp on history. On October 12 1537, Jane gave birth to a boy, the future King Edward the VI. Twelve days later, she died of puerperal fever. Henry was devastated. He had finally found the woman who had given him his heart’s desire, and God had taken her away. She was the perfect wife. She had born him a son and didn’t interfere in state business.

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 And she was chaste! Really, truly chaste! Not the sorta, kinda French chaste practiced by Anne. All that she asked of him is that he render her the honors that were due her as his wife and Queen. And he did, without thinking twice about it. Why oh why couldn’t poor Henry Tudor have it his way, just once! Was that too much to ask? To the end of his days, Henry considered Jane the best wife he ever had. God knows he had enough of them to make the comparison.

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Henry had a practical view of kingship that left little room for sentimentality. He went into seclusion for a bit after Jane’s death, wouldn’t see anyone. When he returned to the land of the living, the Privy Council tentatively, VERY tentatively one would imagine, suggested his Majesty might wish to consider getting married again. Just to make sure there were some extra princes around. It never hurts to have some spares handy. Henry agreed. As soon as was decent, of course. Decent in this case being the day after Jane’s funeral.
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While Henry and his council agreed that re-marriage would be desirable ASAP, they ran into the practical problem of whom to marry. Potential brides were a bit thin on the ground. Adding to the problem were questions of foreign policy and national security. On top of these issues Henry added a layer of his own. The wife of his dreams had to be good looking and have large breasts. Anne was a grave (snicker) disappointment in the breast department. Jane was a big (giggle) improvement, but, not to put too fine a point on it, she was dead.
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What with one thing or another, it was two years before Henry got to play the bridegroom again. Things might have moved faster if Henry had had a better public image. He was in his late forties, balding, putting on a lot of weight, had the disposition of a rattlesnake, had been excommunicated, had three ex-wives, all of them dead, two of them because he wanted them that way, AND… He had a well-deserved reputation for shagging any woman who would hold still for him. And even some that wouldn’t.
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The princesses of Europe were NOT lining up to become Mrs. Henry Tudor the IV. What this meant for the Privy Council is that they would have to go pretty far afield to find their next queen. No one had the brass to tell Henry that he might get lucky sooner if he lowered his expectations.  As it turned out Henry would have been A LOT happier if he had lowered his expectations. Cromwell certainly would have been happier. Not to mention alive.

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Thank you Mr. Al.  And here I thought it was only Henry’s wives who risked their necks to be near the throne.  Silly me.

Alice

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Elephant Stew

I know I should get my nose out of this “Kid’s Favorite Recipes” book, but it’s so much fun.  Check this one out:

1 medium sized elephant

1 ton salt

1 ton pepper

 500 bushels potatoes

200 bushels carrots

4,000 sprigs parsley

2 small rabbits (optional)

Cut elephant into bite size pieces.  <Sound familiar?>  This will take about 2 months.  Cut vegetables into cubes (another 2 months) .  Place meat in and cover with 1,000 gallons of brown gravy and simmer for 4 weeks.  Shovel in salt and pepper to taste.  When meat is tender, add vegetables.  A steam shovel is useful for this.  Simmer slowly for 4 more weeks.  Garnish with parsley.  Will serve 3,800 people.  If more are expected add rabbits.  This is not recommended, however, as very few people like hare in their stew.

Happy Eating

Alice

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They Gave Me Flowers!

After all these years of serving as stage manager, not only did the instructor finally start calling me stage manger, she gave me flowers on closing night!  It was soooooo cool!  She had someone take away the flowers I was handing out to all the little kids, dragged me out to the middle of the stage, put a spot light on us, and introduced me to the audience.  Not only did they actually applaud me, but afterwards several people congratulated me on a good job!  Thing was, this was one of the easiest years.

I accept this accolade as a reward for all my time of service and would like to say “This is so cool!  Thank you!”

Alice

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Stage Mom

I neglected my blogroll yesterday, just when a bunch of people had things to say.  India Carolina is struggling with revisions.  Join the club!  Tessa won Ericka’s Name-My-Hero contest.  Tessa is struggling with contest results.  Milady Insanity is just as bad about fabric as I am, only for different reasons.  Suzanne McMinn has a new book out.  Have you checked her out yet?  She has an interesting blog.  

And I missed it all because I was stitching an extension on a backdrop, painting giant mushrooms, learning how a fog machine works, taking my daughter out of class early for a run through, coming up with something for us to eat, moving props around, yadda, yadda, yadda.  IRL got in the way of my cyber life on my favorite day.

Why was I doing all that?  Because I’m a stage mom.  My dear daughter is in both tap dance and a general sort of dance thing that has bits of modern and bits of ballet in it.  It’s recital time, and of course I help.  Yep, I’m stage manager.

The first section is a story thing a lot like a ballet.  That’s where I do the managing.  I get to wear the headphones and talk to lighting and sound people and tell everybody what to do.  Unluckily I HAVE to wear the headphones and tell everyone what to do. Woe is me when I screw it up.

We have another show tonight.  I’ll let you know how it went tomorrow.

Alice

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Suzie’s House 19: Drew’s Decision

“Good Lord!”  Drew watched Suzie run from the kitchen with a butcher’s knife in her hand.  “What are you doing?” 

“Stop him!  He’s getting away,”  Suzie shouted over her shoulder. 

Drew had no idea who she was talking about, but raced across the kitchen to the long, central hall in her wake.  She was acting like someone demented. 

Suzie whipped open the front door, then stopped.  She looked so dejected backlit by sunshine and the spring-green of the trees with her shoulders hunched forward and the knife dangled in her hand.  It was enough to give him the willies. 

“Who got away?” He asked cautiously.  As far as he could see, there was no one but her. 

Suzie turned around slowly.  “He said his name was Joe Smith, but I think he was lying.” 

Drew moved toward the front porch.  Suzie grabbed his arm, stopping him. 

“It’s too late.  He just drove past in a gray Jeep.”  Though he wasn’t moving, Suzie still clung to his arm.  She sounded calm, but she didn’t look it. 

The hairs on the back of Drew’s neck lifted.  The only man he knew who drove a gray Jeep was the one who shot Vin.  It couldn’t be the same man.  There was no connection between him and Suzie.  Suzie was all warm bread coming fresh from the oven, polished-apple smiles, and picnic baskets.  Suzie was hearth and home.  The man who drove Vin off the road then shot him was a sick, twisted murderer.  They didn’t orbit the same spheres. 

Still…  “What did he look like?” 

“About this tall,”  Suzie lifted a hand several inches above her own head.  “And thin.  He had bright red hair.”   

That matched what Drew had seen of the perp.  Drew didn’t know what the man was doing here, only that no good could come of it. 

 “You let him into the house when there was no one here to protect you?!”  The words popped out before he had time to assume a professional demeanor.  Suzie had a way of making him say things he would normally keep to himself. 

Miranda came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.  He shrugged out from under it.  Suzie already thought he was interested in Miranda when he wasn’t.  No need to add to her confusion. 

“It seems to me like Suzie can take care of herself.”  Miranda gestured toward the enormous knife still dangling from Suzie’s fingers. 

Suzie put the knife down on the side table as if having just discovered a snake in her hand.  She put her hands up to her face.  They were shaking violently. 

“I was so scared.  First he lied about where he was living, and he kept trying to get me to talk about you, Drew, and wanted me to show him the house.”  She reached for him half blindly.  “He’s coming after you, Drew.  It’s you he wants.”  She shook from her ponytail to her running shoes. 

Drew didn’t think twice.  He pulled her into his arms.  He stroked up and down her back in long, soothing motions.  It killed him to see her so upset. 

He was only vaguely aware of Miranda crossing behind him to close the front door.  She stood there, with her hand on the edge of it for long minutes.  Drew lifted his head from Suzie’s shoulder. 

“What is it?” 

“Your car.”  Miranda turned around.  “Suzie, did this Mr. Smith character say anything about Drew’s car?” 

“Yes.”  She leaned back against his arms, but didn’t break free.  “That’s why I let him in.  He said he ran into Drew’s car, and wanted to exchange insurance information.” 

Drew let her go and stepped back abruptly.  He saw it all now.  One of the Smash Master’s minions must have gotten suspicious of the sting operation he and Vin were running.  So one day he attacks the taxi driver in the red beret.  He saw Drew coming to Vin’s rescue in his blue Subaru Legacy.  He sees the Legacy parked out front, and starts knocking on doors, looking for whomever it belongs to… 

Drew had made a fatal mistake by leaving the malfunctioning car at the curb.  He might as well have planted a flag on the side of the house that said, “This is where your enemy lives.”  Worse, he’d given the killer an excuse to come inside and terrorize Suzie. 

From beginning to end this entire debacle was his fault.  First hiring Vin as a decoy, then moving in here.  The car out front was a footnote in Drew’s litany of errors.  He might not be able to correct some of those errors, but he could reduce them.  For instance, as long as he lived here, he would bring his enemies to Suzie’s door. 

Drew went upstairs to pack. 

 

 

 

The previous was Suzie’s House 18: For Want of a Band Aid

This is Suzie’s House 19: Drew’s Decision

Next is Suzie’s House 20: Miranda’s Decision

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SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE…. TRUE

A Kansas farm wife called the local phone company to report her telephone failed to ring when her friends called and that on the few occasions, when it did ring, her dog always moaned right before the phone rang. The telephone repairman proceeded to the scene, curious to see this psychic dog or senile lady.

He climbed a telephone pole, hooked in his test set, and dialed the subscriber’s house. The phone didn’t ring right
away, but then the dog moaned and the telephone began to
ring. Climbing down from the pole, the telephone repairman
found:

1. The dog was tied to the telephone system’s ground wire with a steel chain and collar.

2. The wire connection to the ground rod was loose

3. The dog was receiving 90 volts of signaling current when the number was called

4. After a couple of jolts, the dog would start moaning
and then urinate.

5. The wet ground would complete the circuit, thus causing
the phone to ring.

Which demonstrates that some problems CAN be fixed by
pissing and moaning.

Just thought you’d like to know.

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The Tudors: The End of Anne Boleyn

Boy, when the end comes, it really comes fast.  Poor Anne. 

We continue with Mr. Al’s History of Henry the VIII’s Wives.
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 It could be proved that Anne and her lover(s) plotted the Kings murder while rumpling the royal linens. That was it! It was Cromwell who came up with that idea. Henry made sure there was a little extra something in his pay packet that week. In the end, five men were accused of having slept with Anne and taken part in the plot to murder Henry. One of the men was Anne’s brother, Lord Rochford. Interestingly, many people at court found it more shocking that Anne was accused of having sex with a musician, Mark Smeaton, than her own brother.
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Smeaton was a no-account, lute strumming, wine swilling, backstairs lothario! A court hanger-on from a family of, of…commoners! And the Queen slept with…that? (Shudder). At least her brother was a Peer. Breeding tells.  Cromwell thought the additional charge of incest would add a nice, reprehensible touch. He wasn’t taking any chances that Anne might come up with a crowd of sympathizers who might make trouble. He needn’t have worried.
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 Things moved fast. Parliament was dissolved on April 14, to prevent Anne from appealing to that august body. On April 24 the Lord Chancellor appointed a commission of oyer and terminer to address the charges of treason. On the 29th the Privy Council was informed of the proceedings against the Queen. That same day Cromwell laid all the “evidence” before the King. Henry was duly aghast that his beloved Anne was having it off with all those fellows. Her brother also? Yuck! And they wanted to kill me? Forsooth!
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Anne knew nothing of the details of what was about to happen. She knew something was up, that it involved her, but not even in her worse nightmares did she suspect that Henry wanted her whacked. Literally. On the 30th, the first of Anne’s “lovers” was arrested, the musician Smeaton.  He was taken to the Tower and through the use of kind words, yummy snacks and cocktails, confessed to everything he was accused of.
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On the morning of May 2nd, Anne was ordered to appear before the Privy Council. Once there, the Council, which included her uncle, accused her of adultery. Two of the men she had allegedly slept with were named. She was told they had confessed all. The poor woman was too stunned to reply. The council ordered her, by His Majesties Command, to return to her apartments, under guard, and there await further developments. They didn’t keep her waiting long.
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 Back in her rooms, Anne discussed what was happening with some of her ladies. She was, to put it mildly, deeply upset. The fact that Henry wanted a divorce didn’t really surprise her. She had suspected as much for some time. But, My God! The men he accused of sleeping with her were going to die! She hadn’t heard about her brother yet. His arrest had been handled very quietly.
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Early that afternoon the Council called on Anne to deliver the warrant for her arrest. It was then that she learned she was to be charged with plotting Henry’s murder. NOW she understood. Henry wanted her dead. Not just dead, but dead in such a way that Elizabeth would be removed from the line of succession. There was nothing she could do. Henry, in a typical Henryesque fashion, ordered Anne to be taken to the Tower immediately. That is, in broad daylight. In full view of the good citizens of London. That was not the usual way. When it came to vindictive, Anne couldn’t teach Henry a thing.
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By the time Anne’s weeping, hysterical self passed through the Court Gate, not Traitor’s Gate, as some sources hold, it was all over except for the execution. Judgment had already been, unofficially, rendered. In fact, so anxious was Cromwell that the proceedings be viewed as unbiased, that he had a couple of chaps at court rounded up in a way that would cause comment. After “careful scrutiny” of the evidence, they were released. One fellow was let off with a warning about shagging the Queen of England and the price one could pay; the other fellow was told that, although he was innocent, the King didn’t much care for him. He was advised to leave the court and never return. That was the last anyone saw of him.
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On May 19th 1536, Anne’s head hit the straw. Henry had a professional executioner brought in from France. No doubt to give the proceedings a classy, continental touch. Anne always had appreciated the French way of doing things. It took less that two months to have Anne judicially murdered. What a refreshing contrast to the Katherine business. The others were executed the same way, even Smeaton. As a commoner, he wasn’t entitled to such a quick death when the charge was treason. Henry must have been in a good mood that day.

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[ Icky paragraph about the usual methods removed to comments.]

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 Is it any wonder executions were so popular with the public? Londoners didn’t get to see stuff like that every day! And now it was Jane’s turn. Um… to become queen, not to be executed. It’s hard to keep these things straight when you are talking about Henry’s wives.

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Anne may have been one of the more notable wives in Henry’s life, but hardly the last.  Next Tuesday we continue with Henry’s marital woes.  I’m assuming he’s going to do Jane next, but haven’t seen anything yet.

Alice

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