One of those weeks

Work has been exceptionally busy and frustrating as of late. But that’s okay. I like it. It’s challenging. And it keeps me on my toes. That’s for sure!

For just a brief moment I’d like to complain about my Dallas Stars. I mean, WTF? They are totally sucking of late. WHY? What is wrong with them? The man called this evening and asked if was watching the game tonight. I told him yes and asked if he was going. When he said yes, I told him he was a scumbag. hehe At least he took it well.

BimbetteI have a horrifying confession. I’m in love. Yes, head over heels in love. With Just The Right Shoe. Perhaps obsessed is a better word. I am now the proud owner of eight little shoes. With several more on the way, thanks to Best Good Friend (please see her post entitled “Kansas is for the birds”…I cried I was laughing so hard). I’m cutting myself off this week and I’m stopping. I swear. I have to.

It’s not as if I’m spending my mortgage payment on these little lovelies. No. I’m not that fanatical. Otherwise I would definitely need help. Counseling for sure. But I am a bit … shall we say … gregarious when it comes to things like this. I love these little shoes. Almost more than buying REAL shoes.

I can’t believe I just wrote that.

And no, that’s not a real shoe you see in the picture. It’s a four-inch resin shoe. But I’d swear they were REAL. Hell, I’d wear half of them. The one I have featured here is called Bimbette. LOL

Best Good Friend and I have spent several days compiling a gallery with all the little shoes we can find so we can make a checklist. But there are so many of these I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to (1) get a full checklist together or (2) own every single one of them.

She’s into the Trail of Painted Ponies. At least THEY have a checklist. (I bought her Horsefeathers for Christmas. Go check it out here.)


I’m still working on the dragon story. I decided to introduce my villain and boy is he a total scumbag. I suppose that’s the point though, eh? I hadn’t realized how truly creepy he was until I went back and re-read the passage I had written for him from his POV.

Since it’s Friday and since I don’t have much more to say (AND since this keyboard and mouse are giving me FITS), I think I’ll close with a little excerpt from the current dragon story in progress. Enjoy. 🙂


The wind whipped through Lord Sheridan’s cape, flapping it loudly behind him. He stood with his hands behind his back, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon and his mind quiet. He inhaled sharply, feeling the cold air in his nose and his lungs before exhaling just as sharply.

In the surrounding meadow below him, he watched the white tents being erected as well as the flurry of activity. His coronation was only three days away. After all these long years, he would finally be able to grasp that which he had most wanted – to become ruler of Vundor.

It had not come without a price and one he had willingly paid.

He had waited patiently while King Garris went on his crusades, marching across the land with his idealistic ways and spreading his word of faith and righteousness. All the while, Sheridan had kept a keen mind’s eye on him, taking the place of the absent king.

Of course, there were those who opposed him and he had made sure they were removed from his service and objection. Just as he made sure the absent king was remove from his position. A shame he met such a violent demise on his march of peace. Ruthless, cunning and heartless. That’s how Sheridan would be described by those who hated what he stood for. He cared not.

Closing his eyes, Sheridan tuned in to the sounds around him, listening to the breeze. On any other calm day, he could hear the thoughts of his workers. But today, a storm brewed in the east, hovering over the seas frothing against the white cliffs. In the west, an eerie silence from the Dead Land. Twas to be expected. Very few ventured across the plain to the Dead Land unless they were of the bravest sort. He had heard of strange rituals where villages sent their sons there on a test of bravery. All fools, he thought. Bravery was not achieved by walking with the dead.

The north spoke to him of his alliance with the queen and his impending nuptials to her daughter, the lovely Anabel. It would unite their kingdoms, giving Sheridan more power than he had ever hoped for. Once they were wed, his plan to take control of her kingdom would be put into action. The aging queen did not have much longer to walk the land.

But in the south…something had shifted. He could sense the change on the wind and he heard the words one true king whispered on the breeze. And the whump whump of a red dragon with eyes the color of ice flying high over the morning sky.

He focused his senses on the three words he could hear on the wind. Who was the man who thought he was the one true king of Vundor? The baby prince should have been killed long ago, along with his mother. Their disappearance had been the turning point for Garris and Sheridan long suspected his crusades were only a cover while he searched for them, hoping to find them still alive. Mayhap, somehow, they had survived. He would find him and he would destroy him. Sheridan would do whatever it took to keep anyone from contesting his right to the throne.

The dragon flew overhead, her wings spanning across the vibrant blue sky. And there, walking next to the young man, was Corbel. He should have known. The dragon and the ancient one were leading the boy right to him.

He should have killed them all when he had the chance. Instead, he cursed the girl with her dual existence and allowed Corbel to disappear from his sight. He would not make the same mistakes again. Not three days before his coronation as King of Vundor.

Cursing under his breath, Sheridan’s eyes flew open, his heart thudded hard in his chest. His hands fisted at his side as he turned on the toe of his shiny boot. He took the stairs two at a time, looking for his First Knight. He found him in the map room and Sheridan knew he discussed impending battle plans.

“Roderick, a word.”

Roderick, tall and dark with a weathered face, excused himself from his conversation and joined Sheridan in the corridor. He was the best of the best and led Sheridan’s army into battle more times than he could remember. He was the only man he trusted with his life.

“My lord?”

“There is a situation in the south. The she-dragon leads a young man here who will challenge my throne. She must be stopped. I want you to send your best Dragon Hunter to kill her and bring me proof of her death,” Sheridan said.

“Of course, my lord, but…are you certain?”

“I am. Tell your man to bring me one of her scales and it must be before the coronation. He has three days. Can he do it?”

“I will send my best man,” Roderick said. He turned to go, but Sheridan stopped him.

“There is something else. The young boy she leads…I want you to personally see to bringing him to me. Take as many men as you need.”

“Is that wise, my lord, when we are so close to the eve of battle?”

“You, Roderick. No one else. Is that clear?”

“Aye, my lord.”

With a nod of his head, he returned to the war room as Sheridan exited the castle, clasping his hands behind his back. A cold biting wind whipped through him. This time, no one would get in his way.

© Michelle Miles, 2006

By Michelle

I wish you all could be inside my head. The conversation is sparkling.