This is the second half to the blog piece, I'm supposing that the computer denied me because of a gremlin...lol
I specifically requested to write on Sawyers blog...she laughed, as she often does, either at me or with me, not quite certain on that finer point, one never does know with her...
Sawyer requested an interview with me, but this isn't how we first met...
Several days prior I was stepping out of an elevator when she plowed directly into me. I would suppose that this was due to her fumbling with her shoes...she never noticed anything or anyone around her, obviously. Oh sure, she did help me pick up all of the months' work compiled...now a collosal undistinguishable mess...honestly though? Sawyer couldn't restrain from giggling. I'm fairly certain that I heard her say that she also laughs uncontrollably at train wrecks as well, though don't quote me...
She shook my hand and dashed off...leaving her shoes behind. Of course, I thought, with the temp at 100* who would think enough of the heat to place their shoes back on?
So Sawyer, when I think back...
The interview was set up at Fados, an Irish pub on 4rth street. "why not I thought? " afterall, the mess that was now my briefcase was going to take days to struggle to fix...I walked out onto the outdoor patio, if she recognized me, she never let on. Too busy telling a hilarious story in a Scottish dialect, of course...I however did recognize her, reddish blonde hair, touseled, faded jeans, linen blouse...she eventually jumped up and hugged me, apologizing immediately when I had to lean down (stating that she couldn't help being 'circus short')
Pardon the pun when I state that the others surrounding her began focusing on small talk...but not Sawyer...she asked me if I had lived the life that I had set out to...I gently inquired as to her shoes..she remarked that shoes felt like 'feet prison' and was inclined to set them free, as her sandals eventually found their way onto the stone floor, at quite a distance from her red polished toes...she chewed ice cubes throughout the interview, I never bothered to ask why, because I quickly realized that I would recieve some ridiculous response...Sawyer held me captive with her quick wit, I held her interest with my version of corporate life. When the glass of guiness that I held in my hand shattered she just laughed...as did the others, apparently this happens all of the time around her, coupled with the oddity of my watch ceasing to comply with my desire for it to continue working...the face cracked, and again, the others merely nodded in affirmation. If you're going to be near her, you learn to expect the unexpected...
I was surprised to notice the hurt on her heart when a song came to play in the background, but of course, she'd not explain...
By the end of the evening I was enthralled by all that is she, Sawyer.
I walked her to her auto, and although I am a married man, I still found myself in an undeniably awkward moment, not desiring the night to end...she said "your wife is forever lucky to have your love and devotion" and promptly took my hand into hers...placing it up onto her heart. "this is all that you'll ever know of me, and I you"
Much to my delight and amazement I came to become one of the characters in her novels. I'm ultimately proud that we became friends, lifelong in fact. Sawyer lives in my heart now, and forever...
I requested to write on her blog, not to tell you necessarily what you already know, but it was the coin story that compelled me...I have to tell you that it brought me back to that particular night. She slipped one of those coins into my suit pocket, saying that it would serve as a gentle reminder of kindess, of being remembered when life took its toll...
What class, simplistic, unconditional love that is she.
It was done for her, and so she does for others...
Her novels are an invitation into her remarkable life, I'm entirely happy that I was invited, grateful that when I read my name I am well aware of what could have been if only I had found her sooner...
Cameron
He molded the bullets with both precision and the utmost care... Aye they were costly, aye, his Grandmother would have rolled over in her blessed resting place (grave) thrice over. His veracious appetite for her silver pieces would probably damn his eternal soul, but he'd not be detered...those bloody werewolves were handing out silver bits as 'pieces of rememberence', he supposed secret invitations into their family...och, how it sickened him...how dare they? Well he had been collecting them for his own use....
And aye, he'd use them he would....against the beasts that he had come to loathe, against the beasts that had stole his family from him...
He held no concern whether it was the McEwans or the bloddy Hastings....no, he'd exact his revenge soon enough...soon enough...
Dane
Well that was my week, I apologize for this weeks blog being broken into two pieces, I suppose there is some rationale there....this week I felt as though I lost my anchor, setting me adrift...but that is the way of it, isn't it? Both Sinners and Saints are cast off into the sea, it becomes our daunting task to bring ourselves back to shore....
Have a wonderful week, full of unexpected delights and happiness!
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
I specifically requested to write on Sawyers blog...she laughed, as she often does, either at me or with me, not quite certain on that finer point, one never does know with her...
Sawyer requested an interview with me, but this isn't how we first met...
Several days prior I was stepping out of an elevator when she plowed directly into me. I would suppose that this was due to her fumbling with her shoes...she never noticed anything or anyone around her, obviously. Oh sure, she did help me pick up all of the months' work compiled...now a collosal undistinguishable mess...honestly though? Sawyer couldn't restrain from giggling. I'm fairly certain that I heard her say that she also laughs uncontrollably at train wrecks as well, though don't quote me...
She shook my hand and dashed off...leaving her shoes behind. Of course, I thought, with the temp at 100* who would think enough of the heat to place their shoes back on?
So Sawyer, when I think back...
The interview was set up at Fados, an Irish pub on 4rth street. "why not I thought? " afterall, the mess that was now my briefcase was going to take days to struggle to fix...I walked out onto the outdoor patio, if she recognized me, she never let on. Too busy telling a hilarious story in a Scottish dialect, of course...I however did recognize her, reddish blonde hair, touseled, faded jeans, linen blouse...she eventually jumped up and hugged me, apologizing immediately when I had to lean down (stating that she couldn't help being 'circus short')
Pardon the pun when I state that the others surrounding her began focusing on small talk...but not Sawyer...she asked me if I had lived the life that I had set out to...I gently inquired as to her shoes..she remarked that shoes felt like 'feet prison' and was inclined to set them free, as her sandals eventually found their way onto the stone floor, at quite a distance from her red polished toes...she chewed ice cubes throughout the interview, I never bothered to ask why, because I quickly realized that I would recieve some ridiculous response...Sawyer held me captive with her quick wit, I held her interest with my version of corporate life. When the glass of guiness that I held in my hand shattered she just laughed...as did the others, apparently this happens all of the time around her, coupled with the oddity of my watch ceasing to comply with my desire for it to continue working...the face cracked, and again, the others merely nodded in affirmation. If you're going to be near her, you learn to expect the unexpected...
I was surprised to notice the hurt on her heart when a song came to play in the background, but of course, she'd not explain...
By the end of the evening I was enthralled by all that is she, Sawyer.
I walked her to her auto, and although I am a married man, I still found myself in an undeniably awkward moment, not desiring the night to end...she said "your wife is forever lucky to have your love and devotion" and promptly took my hand into hers...placing it up onto her heart. "this is all that you'll ever know of me, and I you"
Much to my delight and amazement I came to become one of the characters in her novels. I'm ultimately proud that we became friends, lifelong in fact. Sawyer lives in my heart now, and forever...
I requested to write on her blog, not to tell you necessarily what you already know, but it was the coin story that compelled me...I have to tell you that it brought me back to that particular night. She slipped one of those coins into my suit pocket, saying that it would serve as a gentle reminder of kindess, of being remembered when life took its toll...
What class, simplistic, unconditional love that is she.
It was done for her, and so she does for others...
Her novels are an invitation into her remarkable life, I'm entirely happy that I was invited, grateful that when I read my name I am well aware of what could have been if only I had found her sooner...
Cameron
He molded the bullets with both precision and the utmost care... Aye they were costly, aye, his Grandmother would have rolled over in her blessed resting place (grave) thrice over. His veracious appetite for her silver pieces would probably damn his eternal soul, but he'd not be detered...those bloody werewolves were handing out silver bits as 'pieces of rememberence', he supposed secret invitations into their family...och, how it sickened him...how dare they? Well he had been collecting them for his own use....
And aye, he'd use them he would....against the beasts that he had come to loathe, against the beasts that had stole his family from him...
He held no concern whether it was the McEwans or the bloddy Hastings....no, he'd exact his revenge soon enough...soon enough...
Dane
Well that was my week, I apologize for this weeks blog being broken into two pieces, I suppose there is some rationale there....this week I felt as though I lost my anchor, setting me adrift...but that is the way of it, isn't it? Both Sinners and Saints are cast off into the sea, it becomes our daunting task to bring ourselves back to shore....
Have a wonderful week, full of unexpected delights and happiness!
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
