Here's some recent pictures from my life from Santa Rosa Beach at Topsail State Park and my sweet grand baby Bailey Brown's first birthday.

Long time no write. I've been busy with:

1.The 51st annual Winter Park Sidewalk Art Festival

2.Being abjectly miserable from Spring allergy season....achoo, scratch, scratch...arrggh, congestion!

3.Working for hours every day on the rough draft of my YA novel. I am at page 283 and have two more chapters to write. Then, the fun begins with the content edits. I consider the next phase as polishing a diamond from the rough until it sparkles from many facets. Hopefully.

Live long and prosper. I'll blog again soon. I promise. Ta.

I had a health scare this morning. I woke up with packed sinuses, searing pain in my left eye, and neck pain that radiated down my left side. Being the super allergic humanoid I am, I shrugged and got up. I am used to morning headaches. I cope. So, I got up, grabbed my ever necessary iPhone from the nightstand and made my way to the kitchen where I poured myself my usual mug of coffee, swallowed two decongestants, unrolled the newspaper and sat in my habitual morning paper reading chair in the family room. I looked down at the paper and blinked. My eyes wouldn't focus. I couldn't read. There seemed to be a black hole in my vision. I clicked on my phone and tried to read my facebook page. I couldn't see the words. Then, my left eye felt as if it was exploding with fireworks of light. An arc shaped like the Arabic sickle wiggled and arched.

I made my way to the closest bathroom and peered into the mirror. My pupils were pinpoints and would not dilate. By now, I was feeling a little panicky. What was happening? Was I having a stroke? Was I going blind due to pressure on the optic nerve or something dire?

I grabbed a bottle of eye drops and put some in each eye, swallowed some Ibuprofen with the rest of my coffee, picked up my phone and went back to bed. Tried some calming Yoga breaths. The flashing continued. If it doesn't stop in 30 minutes, I thought, I will have to call for help, have somebody drive me to the hospital. What if I die? What if I go blind?

Two more thoughts zipped past: I haven't had a bath yet and my hair is dirty and if I die I won't be able to finish my book! Then, I thought, If I just go blind I can dictate the book and somebody else can type it. I admit to saying a prayer at that point.

My angel must have been listening as five minutes later everything normalized. Eye fireworks stopped. I could focus my vision. Eyes began to dilate again. Nothing remained but a dull headache. I checked the internet and the symptoms corresponded closest to the aura some people get before a migraine begins. I've had plenty of migraines, but no auras before, although my mother had plenty. So, it was good that I didn't go to the emergency room as I would have been fine by the tine I got there. Guess the caffeine and decongestants and pain medicine did the trick in the nick of time.

The funny part of the story was my concern, not of death or disability but of not finishing my novel. I guess that means I truly am a writer at heart. FOI: I have 250 pages of the rough draft done. Maybe another 30 or 40 to go. So, TTFN, I better get writing. Live long and prosper.

Puppy Snaps

Chilidog, I was looking at your baby pictures today. Couldn't help but smile. Especially at the first.

In this one, you are a roly-poly two months. Your coat, grey and white and black tipped eiderdown. Fluffy as an spring time chick. Your stocky little tan legs appear too short for your black masked head and upright charcoal ears, which alertly point to the deep azure sky above the jungly spiky grass that you hunker down in. Your purple collar is too big for your neck and hangs slightly askew. I can't see it, but I suspect that your favorite red rubber ball is somewhere nearby. Your head is slightly cocked and your coca cola eyes shine with the mischief that I've come to know all too well in the five years since we made each other's acquaintance. In fact you are too cute for the poor description I've written.

If I had been made aware of the puppy finding expedition and had been coerced into riding shotgun, even I might have succumbed to your incredible cuteness, just like your first owned human did, even knowing better as I certainly would have known with my dog breed familiarity. For, you do not buy an Australian Cattle Dog puppy, not unless you have nothing else to do with your days and nights but train. You do not buy a no rules just right, one speed fits all at warp four, boldly going where no one has ever gone to before sort of puppy. A puppy that micro naps but never deeply sleeps. A puppy that defeats crates and pulls the eyelids of sleeping pit bulls with her sharp little milk teeth instead of just letting bully boys lie wherever they want to. A puppy that fears nothing, who leaps forward to catch misfiring bottle rockets on the 4^th of July as they whiz down the street straight at her instead of flying upward into the sky. You do not buy an Australian Cattle Dog puppy when you work full time and go to college at night and already have a cat and two pit bulls and four birds and a rat and a snake or four. Especially a puppy whose kennel name is Big trouble in Little China. There's danger there, Will Robinson.

Well, anyway , Chili dog, you were really as cute as an Easter bunny. The picture proves it. That's how you came into your first owned human's life and then ultimately into mine a few months later. After you'd broken your hip wrestling with the 100 pound pit bull. After you'd eaten her carpet and terrorized the cat. Was it really you that sent Hurricanes Charley, Frances, and Jeanne packing? Or did it just seem so? In any case, I didn't regret taking you in. Well, not for the first ten minutes anyway, until you hopped against the front door and locked me outside. “How long is she staying?” Danny asked for the first three days. But then, something funny happened. Danny fell in love with you. It only took him a week. It took me awhile longer, and, dingo spawn, don't tell anyone, but I fell in love with you, too. Even after all the trash can robbing and the eating of roach baits and the ruined Oriental rugs.

In fact, we both missed you last weekend on our trip to the Panhandle. And, It didn't feel right without your forty four pounds pinning my legs to the mattress last night. No one barked me awake for biscuits this morning, since the other card carrying members of The Mutley Crew are more polite than you. But, I missed you. The house was too orderly and too clean this morning. Nobody rolled in the sand pit outside and then came inside to shake off the dirt all over the floor. There were no fluffy tumbleweeds of fur rolling around the baseboards. I'm nuts, that's why I drove halfway across God's green Orlando earth to fetch you home from the doggie pet resort with the bone shaped salt water pool and the canine play groups and pricy pet grooming as soon as I'd had my coffee. Even though you knocked my car out of gear in front of a policeman, lowered the automatic windows three times with your busy little paw, got your head in the dog food bag, jumped over the back seat at least forty times in forty minutes and turned off the radio and a/c just when I needed to watch for my turn.

Busy and bad to the bone, that's you, little Chilidog. You Tasmanian devil dog, you. Oh cleverest of canines, she who bring chaos in her wake wherever she trots. She who had dingos in her family clan, scratching pesky Australian fleas under widow-making Eucalyptus trees not so long ago as the Kookaburra flies. Welcome home, little blue heeler.

PS: Abby missed you, too. Ginny, I am not so sure about.

This post was written in a Woodstream Writing Workshop in response to a prompt that started "In this one"...

Dame Nancy and The Ides of Farch

Hello bloggers,

Short week for me as I am leaving town on Thursday to make the long boring drive to the edges of Alabama to join the Templars at their upcoming convent and investiture. Yes, the Knights Templar are still around and have been since the late 1100's. These days they leave the "Crusades" to the army and mostly raise money for charities around the world. Did ja know they created the modern banking system in the 1200's? And they accept females these days and I don't gotta join a nunnery either. Of course they call us Dames instead of Chevaliers. But, what's in a name? There is nothing like a dame, eh? So after this week you can officially call me Dame Nancy if you want. Just not to my face.

Actually, my own family has a history with the Templars in the bad old days. One of my great greats on me Mum's side a literal millennium ago was a Count of Anjou who became King of Jerusalem in Outremer. Sounds romantic doesn't it? Fulk of Anjou was also the ancestor of Richard the Lion and Bad old King John of Robin Hood times who was my own nefarious ancestor. Personally, I like being descended from the King who was, as Jack Sparrow would have said,"A really bad egg." Anyway, Chevalier Daniel and I and two of the Mutley Crew will be off on the Parakeet along Florida's scrub pine and swampy version of the yellow brick road for another week end adventure. I'd hope for good weather, but, alas, it is Farch, so I count on nothing.

Speaking of Farch, here's a little poem from Between The Lines:

The Ides Of Farch

By Nancy Wayman Deutsch

Is it February or is it March?

In Florida, it's hard to tell.

Neither Spring nor Winter

a time between Jingle Bells and colored eggs

mind scape of scarlet hearts and roses

morphing into shamrocks and green beer.

Mother nature misbehaving again

such an indecisive coy calendar girl,

changing her agenda from one day to the next

here and there, her azaleas blushing in pink profusion

where brittle branched oaks shiver in the wind.

My lawn is clothed in coco and verdant green

Old Sol playing peek a boo with steely clouds

scowling gray at patch worked earth below.

Have the robins come and gone unnoticed

before drifting yellow pollen blankets all in sight?

Cocooned with book and candle

I wait to be an April fool

longing for steamy sultry days and golden sunsets

my bare toes digging into damp beachy sand

the raucous calling of gulls filling azure sky above.

Live long and prosper. Resistance is futile, anyway.

On Doctors and the great health care scam

The weather is changing again from springlike back to wintery. The pressure is changing too and a storm front is coming. I knew even without checking the paper this morning or turning on the weather channel 'cause I woke up with sinus pressure and pain and clenched neck muscles. I had to take full sinus/decongestant medicine and painkillers for the headache even though I know it will adversely affect my stomach. Sigh. But, what's a person to do. Worse than the weather, I feel a rant coming on. So, duck and cover, friends.

The state of medical care in America is a farce: I suppose everyone knows that. Forget about Congress and the Senate and the President arguing endlessly about passing a health care bill. What they're proposing isn't going to fix what ails us, even if and when it passes. Premiums will continue to rise. The fat cats at the drug companies and HMO's will laugh all the way to their third vacation homes and yachts. Doctors will continue to push through their one size fits all agendas on the hapless patients who wait hours for their five minutes of being talked down to on the patient assembly line, questions unanswered, before being pushed put the door to pay for a visit that doesn't solve anything. Before the hapless patient know it, he or she is now seeing three more 'specialists' for conditions he or she may or may not have now or in the future. Money makes the world go round, world go round, world go round...here's another drug your insurance won't cover to add to the pile you are already taking, too. Feeling nervous about it? Well, there's an expensive drug for that too.

Everybody must have a bone scan, chloresterol check, invasive screening procedures colonostopy, etc. once you reach middle age...blah blah blah...even if you have no symptoms of disease. Because you might be precancerous or pre something else dire and if you are they have a surgical procedure for that that may or may not fix you. You may live into old age even if you only have some of your parts and you will spend a whole lot of time visiting the doctors for all kinds of new ailments. But, it will keep the doctors and the HMOs and the drug companies in business. And keep the moola flowing from your bank account too, insured or not, cause you must be pre approved for even part of the cost for any visit, treatment or procedure or drug!

Now, I've been lucky most of my life. I have been pretty healthy. I don't like going to doctors and generally don't have to. However, I have developed acid reflux disorder and have been seeing doctors off and on for it now for nearly five months. It isnt getting much worse, but it isn't going away either, so I reluctantly saw a gastro specialist yesterday. I waited forty minutes past my appointment time in the gynormous waiting room of his gynormous building before being taken into the august presence of the doctor. He started out our brief visit by being what he must have supposed was entertainingly condescending of my past jobs and present vocation of writing. He informed me that he too was a teacher and was going to explain how my body worked, after snorting in my direction and asking, "Are you here because you actually expect total improvement!?" That unexpected statement caused normally verbal me to shut down in shock.

He then told me to continue my present medication and watch my diet before saying that they "always" do a test on their patients at his office with a camera down the esophagus that requires anesthesia to determine possible cancer or pre-cancer growths and if they find any they do surgery in the hospital (which he did not explain the prognosis of). Then he said since I was going to "be out" anyway he'd do a colonoscopy since all women my age should have one. He pointed out that 1 out of 100 women are at risk for colon cancer "if they are black or non Caucasion , smoke, drink, have a family history of colon cancer or are overweight." Uh, hello, I fit none of those categories...but one size fits all here, he is in business to do those costly routine tests which are not covered by my insurance since I never meet my threshold deductable.

I then brok into the monologue by saying, "What if I decide to just have the camera esophagus test at the present time and forgo the other?" After all, acid reflux is my only symptom.

He quickly stood, picked up my folder and replied coldly, "Well, you could do that but you would be extremely foolish." He then said curtly, "I will see you at the procedures," turned on his heel and left before I could say anything else. A minute later a woman came in with a bundle of consent papers for me to sign for both procedures. I refused to sign or schedule anything and left. Nobody discussed what these procedures might cost me at any time during my visit.

I drove home, simmering with anger. "That guy won't be touching this White, non drinking, non smoking, non overweight, no family history of cancer woman fore or aft," I vowed.. No how, no way.

Oh, I almost forgot. At the beginning of our brief visit, I told him I was being treated for a sinus infection with antibiotics after going to an urgent care facility. He said "No urgent care doctor is capable of diagnosing a sinus infection. You must go to an ENT specialist immediately!!" Then he recommended a friend. "He's my ENT doctor, too," he declared, as if that was a good recommendation.

Yes, America is having a health care crisis. Most Americans have bad living habits. We don't eat right, sleep well, we smoke, we drink, we don't exercise. We expect doctors to fix us because we are taught to regard them as godlike beings and we are willing to pay through the nose for it if we're able to and suffer through the medical system as it exists like lambs to the shearing pens.

Rant over! My white, non smoking, no drinking, no family history of cancer, acid refluxing body is going to go walk my three dogs.

New material from The Adventures of Mungo Tim manuscript:

(2-22-10 by Nancy Wayman Deutsch)

FROM THE BATTLE OF WOOTEN FOSSLEY

With the rising sun, the Trolls advanced across the Wooten Fossley Plain, in a solid line of brown that stretched farther than the several hundred men looking wide eyed down from the city's makeshift defensive walls could see. The invaders' trudging feet thundered across the dry earth, raising a column of dust as they marched. From somewhere within the ranks, the sound of sing song chanting in an alien tongue drifted upward and seemed to tickle the ears of the defenders. Along the city's wall at regular intervals and over the city gates, older women and boys too young to fight but too old to hide stood next to firepots full of hot oil and pitch. Below in the courtyard, other women and old men rolled bandages. The drawbridge over the shallow moat below the wall was shut and across the river behind the newly fortified city waited the hastily built barges, guarded by a company of armed men.

“What I wouldn't give for some tactical training and a cannon or two, “ Will muttered to himself. “Steady on," he called up to the row of archers thinly spread along the top of the walls encircling the city. “Don't fire until they are securely in range, Raf. We haven't arrows to spare.”

“Aye, sir,” the archer's captain agreed. “We'll wait for your signal.”

“We're as ready as we'll ever be,” Tim commented. “And in the nick of time too, it seems.”

Will nodded. “Ragnar's dwarves are already by the side gate and my men are ready as well. Let the trolls come.”

“From the sound of things, they are,” Tim replied. “I will go aloft in a moment.”

“Good luck to you today, Tim.”

“And to you as well, lad,” Tim answered.

“Have you seen Miranda?” Will asked. “I wanted to tell her something but I couldn't find her this morning.”

Tim coughed and looked over Will's head before answering.“She's gone off to a safe place. Don't worry.”

“Good. I just hope she stays there.”

“I do, too,” said Tim, flapping his wings.

“If anything happens to me, Tim, make sure she stays safe,” Will shouted, shielding his face from the wind generated by the force of dragon's wings.

“I will, lad," Tim promised as he caught an air current and ascended high above Wooten on The Foss. “Never fear.”

Tim circled the massed invaders on a reconnaissance flight, eyes narrowing at the sight of a purplish black cloud which hovered over the center of the marching column. “That's a wizard cloud,” he said to himself. He shook his head.“That's not good. Not good at all.” His nose wrinkled at the sour smell that reached him even as high as he was above the marchers. “Dragon memory tells me that it is the signature of a dark wizard from Altarr. Zendan, I believe. Humph.” As the rhythm of chanting reached his keen ears, he listed slightly to one side. “Sound makes me feel sleepy,” he said blinking his ruby eyes.” He flew higher above the cloud, swiveling his ears tightly to his skull and dropping his second eyelid against the sun's glare. “That's definitely not good. That's magic of a high sort. If I was on the ground below that cloud instead of above it, I might drop where I stood and fall into a trance.” He quickly banked and reversed direction back to the city.

A mist began to form, curling tendrils across the ground between the advancing trolls and the city as the chanting continued. The sun's glare began to dim. Men in the courtyard shivered despite the warmth of the day. On the walls above them, men began to look over the ramparts in fear. “It's hopeless,” said one townsman to his fellow beside him. “There are too many for us to fight. We don't really know what we're doing. We are all going to die.”

“I'm never going to see my little son again,” replied the man, wiping his eye.

“Are you crying, Mick?” asked the first. “For, I feel as if I would like to cry myself.”

“No!” declared the second defender. “A man doesn't cry! I've just got dust in my eye or something.”

“No shame in it, if ye are crying, lad. I'm scared, too. I'd cry if I could. Cry for my bairns and my beautiful Molly, for I can't save them this day. I'm no soldier. I'm just a tailor.”

“And I am a farmer, or I was,” said Mick.

“What's the point of trying to hold this position?” asked a third man. “We're all townsmen, not soldiers. We're done for.”

“We should just open the gates and surrender,” said a fourth man. “Beg mercy.”

“From trolls,” snorted an archer. “Whats' the matter with you fussbudgets? Are ye daft? Trolls would just eat you.”

“We should open the back gate and run for the river, “ said Mick. “Even a farmer might outrun a troll.”

“I'm getting out of here,” declared a fifth defender, throwing down his bow. “Let the dragon and the prince save the town themselves, if they're stupid enough to try. I'll swim across the Foss if I have to. Maybe trolls can't swim. Who's with me?” he turned his head and slumped to the floor as the men around him dropped like stones.

The archers on the walls dropped their bows and slumped down as if asleep.

“What is happening up here?” frowned Will from the top of the wooden staircase that led to the battlements.

“It's black magic,” called Tim, landing in the courtyard. “ Cover your nose and mouth and hold on, I can fix that.” He began to chant in ancient dragon. A moment or two later, the purple/black tendrils withdrew back towards the invaders and the men blinked their eyes as if awakening from a bad dream.

“What was I saying?” asked Mick to his friend.

“I think I must have dozed off,” said the tailor, standing up. “How did I do that?”

“They're almost at the earthworks,” cried Will, peering over the wall.“They're in range,” he yelled, swinging his silver sword over his head. “Fire!” He scrambled down the steps and raced to where one of his men was waiting with the reins of a large white horse arrayed for battle, wearing the Von Hollenstine colours.

As the dwarven company and Will's men slipped from the side gate, the archers launched a flight of arrows skyward which fell upon the invaders like stinging silver rain. A few trolls fell and were trampled into the dust by their fellows. “Again,” shouted the archer's captain. Another volley dropped more trolls, but not enough. The archers launched a third volley. The trolls kept coming.They beat their chests and ran forward roaring open mouthed, showing rows of gleaming yellow teeth sharpened like knives. “Sholto, Sholto,” they chanted as they ran. They threw themselves without outward fear against the sharpened pikes that protruded from the earthworks in front of the town.

Men wielding whatever weapons they had learned to use under Will and Ragnar and Groof's tutelage leaped up from the other side of the earthen works as more trolls launched themselves upon the first line of defense. Those trolls fell upon the sharp pikes, but the press of more trolls behind them carried the invaders over the earthen walls. The men retreated and regrouped. Howling, Ragnar's company of dwarves raced past them to engage the enemy in hand to hand combat. Groof's company quickly formed a shield wall behind the dwarves in front of the city, sending trolls who survived the pikes and the axe men's reckless charge to their deaths.

Groof' skewered a troll on his sword and braced to meet the the charge of another. A second troll knocked both shield and sword from his hands, hitting him hard enough to split his skull, had he not ducked aside in time. The man next to him knifed the troll in the gut but not before taking a fatal blow to his own. He fell writhing to the ground as the troll ran past, shoving Groof to the side. Groof stood over the fallen body of his still living comrade, teeth bared and snarling, to rip at an advancing troll warrior with his formidable were -claws. The troll snarled a challenge and swung his heavy club, bristling with rusty iron nails at Groof.

“For Dwarvenhelm,” shrieked Ragnar from behind the troll, swinging his axe in an arc. Groof ducked and dodged as the troll toppled and fell forward, nearly sliced in half in the exact spot where the were bear had been standing a moment before.

“Thanks, mate,” he said to Ragnar, who was already turning to engage another troll. Groof picked up his dented shield and sword and fell back in the shield wall beside another defender. By now, the fighting was hand to hand or claw to claw and blood of defender and invader alike arced and spattered all around the field. The ground shook with the force of falling bodies, screams, and running feet. The sound of sword striking sword and axe splitting bone was everywhere.

A trumpet blared from another part of the field and Groof peered over the shield wall to see a line of pikemen advance in from the east side of the city to come in behind another company of trolls, who turned to meet the new foe. Behind the pikemen, Will's small force waited atop battle chargers for their chance at the enemy.

Tim flew above the battlefield. As far as he could tell, the battle in front of the main gates was not going well for the defenders despite their determined defense. The trolls threw themselves against the shield wall without regard to the death that awaited. Those that fell where quickly replaced by those behind.Tim soared over the plain spewing bolts of fire downward upon the advancing trolls where ever he could but he could not do much for the men massed between the earthen works and the city gates since the press of bodies was too close. He could not risk burning his own men. Finally, the shield wall broke completely apart and trolls raced towards the main gates. The few shield wall defenders left alive regrouped with the fighting dwarves or ran for their lives in whatever direction they could. He threw several more fire bolts and returned to the city.

The city walls shook as wave after wave of trolls battered against the heavy gates. Some screamed as boiling oil poured down on them from above. A few maddened by the pain of their crisping hides broke and ran. Arrows whistled down from the walls. Trolls fell but others crawled over the bodies of their fallen comrades to throw their shoulders against the wooden gates.

“The gates are not going to hold much longer,” once of the defenders called from the wall to Tim who was taking a water break in the courtyard. Tim swallowed one last gulp of water and sprang back into the air.

“I'll give you a clear field as long as I can,” Tim said. He spewed rivers of fire over the heads of the trolls massing in front of the gate. Shrieking, they fell back for a few moments until other trolls took their place. Town folk poured more boiling oil over the walls upon the heads of the trolls who pounded upon the gates.

Although the trolls were tall as trees, the smaller but burly dwarves darted in and out of the crowd slashing massive thighs and torsos. More trolls fell in bloody piles before the gates. Gnomes bearing sharp knives followed the dwarves and joined the chaos in front of the city. On the other side of the earthen works, trolls threw themselves upon Will's small calvary as they engaged them from behind. Archers fired volley after volley from the walls. Arrows now struck friend or foe alike. It became a melee of hand to hand combat. Dwarves, gnomes, and men fell, slashing and skewering troll after troll. But still the trolls kept coming. There were just too many.

Tim swept back and forth over the battle hurling fireballs at the trolls. From the center of the invading force lightning bolts went skyward, popping all around Tim as he zigged and zagged. He avoided most but not all. Blood dripped from emerald scales and he could smell burning flesh beneath.One of his wings was smoking. He ignored the pain and continued to spit fireballs, sweeping over the battle. Below him, he saw Will unhorsed and alone with a group of trolls advancing to his position. “No!” he bellowed spewing fire in front of him as he swept over the field. The trolls drew back and Tim landed heavily in front of Will. “Get up on my back,” he said, hunkering down. He snapped his teeth and snarled at the trolls running towards them and the trolls stopped in their tracks. The knight grabbed his harness and swung himself on Tim's back. “You've got to call a retreat,” Tim yelled. “Now, or we're going to lose everyone.

Will nodded. “Retreat!” he shouted again and again as the dragon swept over the field back towards the city. “Retreat! To me!”

Men began to retreat with the fierce dwarves and the shield wall veterans in the front of the defenders, giving them as much cover as they could. Tim dropped Will on the wall and swept back over their hard pressed forces. “Hurry up,” he called, spewing more flames earthward at the trolls who broke and ran from him, “I am almost out of fire.” The archers, Tim, and the town folk dropping boiling oil were able to clear the way long enough for the defenders to reenter the city. As soon as everyone was inside, Tim landed panting in the courtyard. “I'm spent,” he said to Will who clambered down from the wall to his side. “I hope you have some brilliant thing up your sleeve or we are lost.”

“Are you badly hurt?” Will asked, frowning “You're bleeding and your scales are smoking here and there.”

Tim shook his head. “I'm okay but I need to recharge my fire.” he looked up and frowned. His neck stretched out an his eyes seemed to spin like crimson tops. “Wizard cloud drifting over the walls.” he screamed. “Everybody seek cover.”

With surprising speed. for there was no breeze, the large purplish cloud oozed over the walls. Men guarding the walls dropped to the ground. Two men in the gatehouse walked to the gates as if in a trance and pushed the bars away before falling over. The gates swung open. “Close the gates,” Tim shouted in vain as everywhere the damp cloud touched them, defenders dropped to their knees and fell over in a stupor. Trolls poured through the gates into the undefended city. Tim coughed and roared and moved forward to stand between the trolls and the now helpless folk of Wooten On The Foss.

Unaffected by the magical smoke, Ragnar, and Groof rushed to his side. “I can hardly see anything through this cursed purple fog,” Ragnar groused.

“Will's passed out just like most everyone else,” Groof growled. “Do something quick, dragon, or the battle is lost.” Tim shook his head and his eyes cleared. He began to chant loudly in ancient dragon. The wizard cloud began to dissipate and men regained their feet, grabbing whatever weapons were at hand and howling desperate defiance at the trolls. Hand to hand combat resumed in the fortified part of the city. Somewhere in the city proper, women screamed. Tim tried not to think about what the screams might mean.There was no time for thought. Battle was now raging in multiple places inside Wooten on The Foss.

“I'm here,” Will said suddenly at Tim's left. He swung his sword, stabbing a troll with as Tim stretched out his neck and bit another troll in half. Ragnar cut off a trolls leg at the knee and it came crashing to the ground where a gnome in a chef's smock ran up out of the thinning fog and stabbed it efficiently through the heart with a butcher knife before running on. Groof ripped the arm off another troll and clubbed it to death with its own weapon.

“Get out of my way everyone,” Tim commanded, as his tail lashed to the side, knocking three big trolls to the ground. Ragnar cut off the head of one and as Groof ripped another almost in half. A troll tried to jump on Tim's head but was skewered by Will's sword in mid leap. “Get the people who can't fight into the guild hall and bar the doors,” Tim ordered a townsman in a scholar's robe, carrying a rake and running up to join the defense.

Push Comes To Shove In The Time of Cholera

Hello fellow bloggers,

Haven't posted this week, 'cause I've been a bit under the weather. Got vertigo, then major headache, swollen glands, sore throat, and to top it all off six (that's right six) nosebleeds. You know I hate going to doctors, right? Well, when blood came pouring down from my nose at dinner on Thursday for absolutely no reason, ruining my appetite for finishing my Potatoes Strogonoff (made with low fat milk and turkey instead of meat), I reluctantly gave in to Danny's suggestion that he drive me to an urgent care center. I am glad I went. Can you guess what was wrong with me?

Major sinus infection. My turbinates are a wreck, my dears. I am now taking Augmentin tablets that are the size of burritos (well almost) and am feeling a whole lot better. And coincidentally or not, since I've been on the antibiotics, my acid reflux is a whole lot better. I've been testing it or teasing it or torturing it, you decide. Tortellini with pesto and chicken, chocolate popcorn, three cups of coffee, a naked chicken burrito with sour cream, beans, salsa, guacamole, and corn, chips and queso...and I am hardly having any reflux at all. Makes me wonder if an infection wasn't a contributing cause of it all all along.

Well, since I am somewhat focused on illness these days here is a somewhat relevant poem. Live long and prosper.

PUSH COMES TO SHOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA

If one bug doesn’t get you

Another one sure will.

Don’t wait until your fever’s high,

Until you’re really ill.

Just get out your insurance card.

Avoid a grim surprise.

Then hasten to a doctor.

Make sure you’re immunized.

There’s lots of possibilities

To catch a deadly germ.

There could be microbes in the air

That render you infirm.

It might be plague or Asian flu,

A chicken pox or worse.

So hurry now and get your keys,

if your co pay’s in your purse.

Watch out, be careful what you eat,

don't swallow an amoeba.

E coli might be in the meat,

or maybe Salmonella.

Keep your shoes upon your feet.

Look around you everywhere.

A rusty nail is in the grass,

A spider’s on the stair.

A rattle snake might bite you,

A tree fall on your head,

There’s endless opportunity,

For fate to strike you dead.

I’m not telling you to worry,

Just do everything you can.

Make sure your premiums are paid,

You’ve got the best health plan.

Make sure your heart is ticking right,

Your arteries are clear,

Do check your bones aren’t thinning.

You must have those tests, it’s clear!

They’ll poke you and they’ll prod you

They’ll stick things up your rear

Take your temp and drain some blood,

They’re thorough, never fear.

Although those tests are nasty,

You’ve got to pay the price.

Disease is all around you,

And dying isn’t nice.

You’ve got to change your habits,

And exercise a lot.

Keep stresses at a minimum,

Or rest in family plot!

Nancy Wayman Deutsch

from Between The Lines