The River Fairy

Ria was anxiously excited about her first year at the Texas Fairy School in Austin.  She wondered what language they would speak.  There is an ancient Færie language but it is only used for ceremonial events; weddings, births and contracts.  Fairy lawyers have to be fluent in Færie (lawyers aren’t liked in the fairy world either…)   Most fairies speak the same language that their human neighbors speak.  In Ria’s case, it was Spanish as she came from the Texas border town of Brownsville.  She could speak English, also, but loved the way Spanish rolled from her tongue.  “Mi amor” she whispered, blushing at the idea of future fairy liaisons.   Ria was twelve years old and a River Fairy.

Brownsville sits on the Rio Grande River which divides Mexico from Texas along the border.  The town is at the river’s estuary into the Gulf of Mexico.   Its river water is silty with brown sediment from hundreds of miles of river weaving through desert, mountains and plains.   Ria was presently a brown fairy, with hair and eyes the color of expresso, but knew that she could metamorphose into shades of blue, grey or brown or a tranquil combination of all three.

River fairies have to blend into their surroundings like all other fairies.   Ria was surrounded by bright blue skies, the blue grey of the Gulf and the soft brown of the Rio Grande.  Then there were dolphins, herons and catfish – all hues of grey.  Her Mother had sultry smoke grey eyes with platinum long wavy tresses.  Her wings were cerulean blue with taupe and charcoal accents.   Ria longed to look like her Mother when she was older but she could be just like her Father.  He was a most handsome, Latino fairy!  His deep mahogany eyes sparkled with humor and kindness.  His hair was chestnut, tipped with silver, as were his metallic wings dappled with chocolate and lilac.

“Mija, are you ready for big school?”   Ria’s Father broke into her reverie.   “Papi, I am a little scared about fitting in at Fairy School.  Will some of them speak Spanish?”   “Of course, Mija, the Texas School of Fairies in the most prestigious in the Occident.  There will Amazonian fairies that are brown just like you.  Then there will be all the Caribbean Azures.  Everyone has a special place in our world.  You will even meet some Red River Fairies from North Texas.”

“What color are they, Papi?”  Ria excitedly interrupted.  “They are a deep red to match their river, which meanders through red rocks and soil.  When I was at Fairy School I met a beautiful Red River Fairy with russet curls – her name was Roxanne.”  His warm brown eyes twinkled as Ria exclaimed, “Papi!  Does Mama know?” “Let’s keep this our little secret, Mija.”  Both giggled secretly when Ria’s Mother came into the room.  “What are you two up to?” said Mom. “There are bags to pack and a new school uniform to buy for our little girl.”

Ria clapped her hands with joy, her little chestnut colored wings vibrating with pleasure.  All the girl fairies attending school had to wear the same pinafore style but it could match their fairy hue.  Mother and Ria held hands while they flew to their fairy seamstress.  Her workshop was on the opposite side of the Rio Grande in Mexico.  Fairies don’t care about borders – their role is to bring happiness to all species wherever they may be.  Selina, the seamstress fairy, greeted Ria and her Mom like the old friends they were, chattering in Spanish and offering yellow Hibiscus tea.

Ria’s round eyes gleamed looking at the array of beautiful fairy fabrics spun from spider silk and cotton.  Every hue of their landscape hung gauzily in the workroom.  Silvery silk, ocean blue muslin and slate gossamer thread.  Endless shades of cream, fawn and cinnamon fabric for the many brown fairies.  She gently touched the reams of fabric that were as soft as thistledown they were weaved from.  Brownsville is at the very tip of Texas with a hot, tropical climate so all species feel the heat.  Austin is hot in the summer but can be cool with frost in the winter when the school session started.

“Honey, come try your uniform on,” her mother entreated holding up a chocolate brown velvet pinafore with an ivory thistledown blouse. “Ooh, it is so beautiful, Mama”.   Ria’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at herself in herself in the copper mirror.  Her mom and Selina choked back tears of their own looking at a beautiful little girl fairy growing up before their eyes.  All too soon Ria would blossom into an adult fairy with new colors and a chosen name.  Her Mom hugged her and held her tight, thinking how far it was to Austin.  She could see the anticipation in Ria’s eyes and kept her sadness to herself knowing all little creatures have to flee the nest.  One day she would return and live a River Fairy’s life.

The End

Game of Thrones Week

The corset is a slimming garment?

I am in withdrawal from Game of Thrones and it doesn’t start until April 2016. Winter is coming and I could be dead by then! When I first heard of the series being made I decided to read the books. After reading Book 3 I discovered that the series was veering off in a different direction so stopped and focused on the series. I was instantly addicted by the intro, the set scenes, the actors – everything! The good thing about having read more was that I could explain the intricacies of the various feuding families to my husband and enjoyed looking at his face when he discovered, for example, that Daenerys’s dragon eggs hatched on the fire.

Her title is “Mother of Dragons” and one of my fellow bloggers (who shall be nameless, eh?) referred to her as a MILF. My husband entirely agrees and so, it seems, does half of the geeky guys who watch it. She is very easy on the eye with gorgeous long silver hair. When I visited Scotland recently I popped into a hair salon because I thought my hair looked a little ashy instead of golden blonde. Like many other young Scottish ladies she had long silvery hair with darker brows. She insisted that my hair looked fabulous and they would just make it look brassy. I was flattered but not entirely convinced.

Then I noticed there were very many Daenerys (I can’t spell the plural) in Glasgow. All of them had long silvery/grayish hair with the painted on dark brows but most of them were a tad heavy. I’m sorry to be so politically incorrect but you can’t have a fat Daenerys. The Mother of Dragons doesn’t have a muffin top over her spandex or acne covered in pancake make-up! That takes away the whole MILF thing…

Although I have been Cersei or Arya all week, in my heart of hearts, I am really Daenerys (stop laughing). I don’t need to look exactly like her – I did once!!! But I want to be good and rule the world. The truth is I would be as bad at ruling as she is. In one of my many jobs, I had a small group of staff and volunteers. All of the volunteers loved me, for the benevolent dictator that I am, but it was equally divided between love and hate with my staff. Much like Daenerys, I was astonished that my actions weren’t perceived as good for everyone. As a manager, I explain something once, listen to complaints, see what I can change and then say, “Just do it”. I treat my husband and three cats (dragons) exactly the same way…

So please tell me who you are?

What annoyed me this week…

Almost everything it seems. Today seemed to be the culmination of everything. Earlier in the week a customer, where I volunteer, asked one of my colleagues, “Why don’t you volunteer somewhere useful, like a hospital?” She was flabbergasted, especially since we sometimes deal with incredibly difficult issues on a regular basis. The customer had leopard printed crutches so we considered knocking her off them – I’m joking, sort of. That and some other issues culminated in me writing to the highest authority which will undoubtedly set the cat amongst the pigeons. Bring it on! I had been chatting with another blogger about being in Cersei mode (Game of Thrones) and somehow I can’t get back to nice Kerry.

A few weeks ago I was also in ‘get off my lawn’ mode when I made a complaint about nuisance barking to the apartments that are behind our reserve. I lived for 12 years in Scotland with endlessly barking yappy dogs and I refuse to pay extortionate taxes in Stepford and put up with the same. After the first complaint, the barking stopped for the most part but last night it was relentless. I got up this morning, put on my Cersei robe and long blonde hair, and composed the next letter (that has been copied to everyone).

To my surprise, there is a new manager who responded immediately and I hope I will not have to follow through with my threat. Dogs are not allowed to bark on the balconies of these apartments both because they are tiny and the noise reverberates everywhere. I have said that I will provide video evidence of barking on the balcony but to do that I will have to have two ladders, a video camera and some help to climb over an eight foot fence into the reserve, full of snakes, skunks, raccoons and then film from the top of the other fence as the apartments are in a gated community.

I am beginning to think that it sounds more like Arya and I will start reciting before bed, “The dog, the owner, the volunteer manager, our Association….” If you don’t watch Games of Thrones then I just sound like a crazy lady and that’s probably more accurate. My husband thinks I should be Daenerys and send in my dragons (three Egyptian feral cats) but that’s his sexual fantasy.