Wandrin'! Never did no wandrin'!

I'm attempting to remember the lyrics to "Love is in the air" for the picture to the right, but happy Gaelic music about "I've got a cute boyfriend" is playing off of Faire Celts and the previous song is pretty durn dumb, so I will forgo the pleasure of delving back into disco pop.


Praise God Almighty, Awel Lhiannen is a-coming along! I'm simply a sap for romance, so there's plenty-o-that in there - mainly between James Bobsboy and Agnes Baker's daughter, as has been mentioned before. And to think I thought the main story would be between Braedon Chillblood's daughter and Awel Lhiannen! Silly Emily. Curious, too, to see that there are Elspethian overtones in this story - rather Dickensesque in the Twelve Kingdoms. Never thought Dickens could infiltrate this world so soon. Anywho, must now discern how in the world to segue back to the story within the story (aka Braedon's daughter and Awel).

I think at some point I need to write a short essay about viewing fantasy writing as a form of translation. Ergo, if translating it into our world and our languages, that means that if a country over there is best allied with our Germany, then their language might be translated into German. It's a shoddy excuse, perhaps, for not biting the bullet and following in the line of Tolkien, but I think that it might have merit in those worlds which are so very allied to our own. Perhaps the only viable exception would be those worlds that have no opposite number to our own? Or, more practically, when the author decides to teach us the language actually used (aka do his homework rather than ripping off wholesale). I dunno. There's merit in both means, one supposes. But it bears consideration.

Elsewise, mass was good this morning. Peter was being a scootch because he didn't want to use the misselette. I understand in part, but he simply must learn to use one. Big bad para-liturgist coming through! ;P Besides, the Psalm's verses are ALWAYS lost unless one reads along.

More later; just thought I'd be squishy for a bit. I'm rather sad that I haven't sat down to write anything terrifically amazing in this journal for a week or so. I put it down to expending my energy towards the short story that is DUE. So, onward and upward and back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Mood: Snerk! Why can't there be more wonderful men a la James or Nicholas Nickelby around?
Music: "I am the Voice" off of Faire Celts - wuh! Wonderful!
Thought: Amazing that my boys have really taken to Nicholas Nickelby! Whodathunk? Praise God!