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Sunday, August 21, 2011

Bored Meetings vs. Board Meetings

One thing I've been thinking about for a while is how to make Board Meetings as effective as possible. If you want to read some great posts about the topic by people who've been to many, many more Board Meetings (and apparently Bored Meetings!) than I, check out these links:
In my opinion it's not that much about whether a Board Meeting is boring or not (but the little pun makes for a good headline so I used it too). It's easy to have a good time in a Board Meeting – you talk about a variety of business issues, you learn from other Board Members' experiences, people tell anecdotes etc. It happens rarely that I'm bored in a Board Meeting, but non-boring does not yet equal effective.

The questions that I often ask myself after a Board Meeting are: What are the real, tangible, actionable results of the meeting? Was it worth the time, usually easily 4-5 man days if you count everyone's traveling time, or could the same have been achieved in a 1-2 hour conference call? For SF Bay Area startups, holding physical Board Meetings may be a no-brainer because everyone is close by anyway. But in Europe, getting all Board Members into one room usually means that at least half of them have to spend a day traveling.

The root cause why it's often hard to give a clear, positive answer to the question above (whether the meeting was worth it) is the dramatic information asynchronity between the founders and the investors with respect to the startup's business. It's just natural that the founders know ten times more about their business, but if the information asychronity is too large, the founders have to spend too much time of the Board Meeting updating the investors. Then it becomes an update meeting. (That has its own merits, but running through numbers and current developments isn't something you need an in-person meeting for. In my experience, one-to-many as well as one-to-one conversations can just as well be done over the phone or Skype. Many-to-many discussions about complicated stuff is where the advantages of a physical meeting come into play.)

Also, if the investors aren't sufficiently in touch with the company it'll be hard for them to provide valuable input, and most of the ideas and suggestions they come up with will be things which the founders have already thought about themselves months earlier.

So the most important thing that you as a founder can do in order to enable an effective Board Meeting is to provide a detailed Board Pack before the meeting itself. The Board Pack should be sent out at least 48 hours before the meeting to give the investors a chance to get simple questions clarified prior to the meeting. The investors of course need to do their part as well, i.e. read the Board Pack carefully and clarify questions before the meeting. The idea is to get almost the entire "update part" done prior to the actual meeting so that you have the whole meeting for the strategic or tactical questions that you'd like to discuss.

80% of the meeting's time should be allocated to these 3-4 questions and the goal should be that you leave the meeting with a conclusion/decision on these questions, or at least with significant progress and clear next steps. That means you may have to politely interrupt people to refocus the discussion. If information asynchronity is the #1 enemy of effective Board Meetings, the human tendency to digress is enemy #2. You have to fight both.

Finally, if there are no important questions that you'd like to discuss with your investors, don't hold a Board Meeting. Do an update call instead. Usually there's lots of things to discuss, but don't force it.

One last point, pre-Board updates every ~ 2 months are not enough to keep investors in the loop. If you want your investors to really know what's going on (and thus enable them to be much more helpful), send out a weekly update email with KPIs (or a link to your Geckoboard :-) ) and information on last week's progress, current problems and next week's priorities. That weekly email can and should be very brief so that it doesn't cost you much time to write it, but even just a couple of bullet points can be immensely helpful if they are provided routinely once a week (as a company gets bigger, bi-weekly or monthly updates are sufficient but in the early days I think weekly works best). Just like the founders should do their best to keep the investors in the loop, the investors of course should do their best to stay up-to-date as well – follow the company on Twitter, subscribe to the company's blog, read everything that's written by and about the company and its key competitors, and participate in the discussions on the company's "Board Basecamp" (a Basecamp site set up for the company's founders and investors, something which many of my portfolio companies have done and which is very valuable).

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

What we look for in early-stage SaaS startups

I recently wrote that investors (myself included) should do a better job of making their investment criteria transparent to founders. Today I'd like to tell you a bit more about what we at Point Nine Capital are looking for in SaaS startups (other sectors are something for another blog post).

To put it as simple as possible, the health of a SaaS business is mainly determined by two factors: Customer lifetime value (CLTV) and customer acquisition costs (CAC). One could almost say that CAC and CLTV are for a SaaS company what wholesale price and sales price are for a retailer. Just like a merchant needs to buy products and sell them at a higher price, a SaaS business needs to acquire customers at costs that are lower than the customers' lifetime value. Costs of goods sold are minimal for a company selling software over the Web, and costs like product development decrease as a percentage of revenue when you get to bigger scale. So for a bigger SaaS player, sales and marketing costs are the driver of profitability.

There are of course lots of other metrics and factors that you can look at in a SaaS company: How good is the product, how big is the market, how strong is the competition, what's the churn rate, is the company growing organically, how good is the team, to name just a few. But the interesting thing is that most of these other aspects are factored into CLTV and CAC already: If CAC are low, the product has to be good, otherwise it wouldn't be that easy to sell (exceptions apply). If CTLV is high, churn can't be that big. Similarly, if there are stronger competitors in the market, aggressively marketing a better product, it's unlikely that the company's CAC will be low. And if a company has a great CAC/CLTV ratio, the team almost has to be great because you have to execute well in all areas in order to achieve that.

Of course I'm not saying that everything is captured in those two metrics, and because they are based on present and historic data they won't reveal future developments of the industry that you're looking at. But at the minimum, looking at these two metrics is a great start when you as an investor evaluate a SaaS company.

Provided that there is some data on these two metrics, that is.

But early-stage SaaS companies which are still in public beta or just went live don't have this data yet. Getting meaningful data on your CLTV takes time, since calculating it based on the monthly churn rate of your first few customer cohorts isn't reliable. And it takes even more time until you get an idea of your CAC because you have to set up marketing programs, try various things, recruit and train sales people and so on, and of course improve the product, the on-boarding experience etc. along the way. I'd say it'll take you at least 6-12 months following your product's launch until you may have reasonably reliable data on CAC and CLTV if everything goes well – and much longer if you've got hiccups along the way.

As early-stage investors, we aim to invest in a company earlier than that so we have to look for other things – leading indicators for great CAC/CLTV ratios in the future, so to speak:
  • Visitor-to-trial conversion rate. If it's high, it indicates that your target audience is interested in your product. It also says a lot about your ability to communicate the value of your product clearly and with few words, which is essential for products that are sold online. And obviously, the higher your visitor-to-trial conversion rate is, the lower is your CAC, all other things being equal.
  • Trial-to-paying-account conversion rate. An extremely important metric, for obvious reasons. If people pay for your product, that's the best sign that you're delivering real value to them. And again, higher conversion means lower CAC.
  • Engagement and retention of your early users. It's hard to get meaningful churn data within just a few months because companies often don't terminate their accounts right away when they stop using a SaaS product, especially if your product has a low price point. Therefore we have to look at usage metrics such as daily or weekly logins and various application-specific metrics to find out if a product is really used by its customers, which of course is the basis for a viable business and high CLTV in the future.
  • Enthusiasm of your early users. Having a number of early users who are absolutely in love with your product is extremely valuable, even if it's a small number in the beginning. BoldThose users will recommend your product to everyone they know, give you great testimonials, help you get your first case studies, get the word out on Facebook and Twitter and maybe even help other customers in your support forums. And for us, these VIP users are a strong signal that you're solving a real pain and hence a strong indicator of product/market fit (which is the basis for low CAC and high CLTV).
  • Your team. Last but not least and at the risk of stating the obvious, we only invest when we're extremely confident in the founder team. That doesn't mean that you have to be a serial entrepreneur or that we expect decades of experience (as much as we appreciate that!). As early-stage investors we're happy to work with young entrepreneurs who are smart, dedicated, talented and results-driven. We're happy to help you complete your team and coach you in areas like sales & marketing, SaaS metrics or fundraising which you may have limited expertise in. The one area where we think you do have to excel is your product. You have to be able to create an awesome product and a beautiful website that sells your product. You also have to "get" modern SaaS – that whole idea around consumerized business applications that are powerful yet easy-to-use and can be sold online using a low-touch sales model. We strongly believe that this need to be in the DNA of the founder team.

There are other factors that we look at, such as market size and competition, but the ones described above are among the most important ones. I hope this helps a bit – if you have any questions please leave a comment or email me.

Monday, August 01, 2011

The land of a thousand niches

I just came across a great blog which I hadn't been aware of yet: "VC Matters" (100 points if you get the pun), written by Rory O'Driscoll of Scale Venture Partners. Rory has an incredibly successful track record of SaaS investments, having invested in home-runs like Omniture, ScanSafe,, DocuSign, ExactTarget and many others. After reading through his posts I immediately added his blog to my RSS reader and to the "must-read list" of recommended resources that I maintain for the founders of the SaaS startups that I have invested in. I'd say Rory is one of the Top 3 VC bloggers about SaaS, the other two being David Skok of Matrix Partners and Philippe Botteri, who recently moved from Bessemer to Accel.

One of the things that Rory talks about is the surprisingly large size of a surprisingly large number of niches in business software:

"A phrase that stuck in my mind from a 1994 software report, was the description of the business software market as a 'land of a thousand niches'. [...]

Business software, unlike either the consumer internet business, or the technology infrastructure business, is not a monolithic market, but instead is a series of separate vertical and horizontal opportunities. [...]

As a result there will be many medium sized, ie $1.0 Bn plus, SaaS technology companies built over the next five years to satisfy these various needs."

As an investor in Propertybase (CRM for the real estate industry), Clio (practice management for lawyers), samedi (practice management for doctors), FreeAgent Central (accounting for freelancers) and other SaaS startups targeting vertical niches, I wholeheartedly agree. Each of these companies operates in a niche, but these niches are so large that each of these companies has the potential to become worth several hundred million dollars.

Rory continues:
"A great example to me of a vertical is that has massively exceeded what I would have guessed as its potential is Real Pages. The company focuses on automating the process of managing residential apartment buildings. My gut would have been “niche vertical, not that interesting”. Turns out I was wrong. Real Pages has a$1.8Bn market capitalization and $200 MM in trailing revenue! I believe this is indicative of what will be a multi-year wave of SaaS based application software companies in specific verticals or functional areas, generating $1Bn valuations."
That reminds me of StyleSeat, a startup that provides business tools and lead generation for the wellness & beauty industry and which Point Nine Capital has invested in. Correct me if I'm wrong, Pawel, but I think neither of us has a particular affinity with the wellness & beauty industry (I usually let my hair grow until my wife (thankfully) makes it clear to me that my look is absolutely unacceptable, and Pawel doesn't have a particularly maintenance-intensive hairstyle either). So initially we were a little skeptical about the market – until we learned that wellness & beauty is a $40B industry in the US, with about 250,000 beauty salons and employing about 850,000 people. Gotta love "niches" like this!


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Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Made by Me by Jane Bull

What a gorgeous book this is. Full of colour and with pages of projects to tackle, it will inspire young girls who love to stitch or get mums and daughters making things together.
For me, it brings back memories of stitching with my mum and hoarding pretty braids, ribbons, buttons and fabrics to make something special.
Each of these projects - which include lavender bags, felt flowers and cupcakes, knitted purses and embroidered T-shirts - is easily achievable, with full pages of photos and step-by-step instructions. It's ideal for beginners as there are how-to instructions for embroidery stitches and knitting - and all the projects are done by hand, no sewing machine required. A real winner for young crafters.
Get this from the library (link to catalogue)
Reviewed by Jan@ Ballarat branch

Anonymous said...

Thanks for your great review. I have just placed a hold on this for my daughter!

Anonymous said...

I have to agree. It's brilliant. 'Father Christmas' gave this to my 8 year old daughter. Both she and her 6 year old sister have read it from cover to cover and love it. They've both made several of the cupcakes and already their sewing is rapidly improving.

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Saturday, October 20, 2012

New Novel Chapter Eight

Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy.

 A novel by Chris Sherrill
Copyright 2012 by Chris Sherrill

            It was a long time before I visited Jane again. Cyrus McGilroy’s threat to see my dad had a powerful effect, but there were other reasons, too. Homer, Horace and I spent time exploring and playing. We cut away the brush beside the pool down at the sawmill, making our own private swimming hole. Winter turned into spring and it was time to plant again. Basketball season ended and baseball season began. When there weren’t games there was practice. Bob Smith and I continued to spar. I’d learned all he had to teach so we boxed for the sport and the practice.
            When summer came, Jake got a job working for the town of Pinckney and Charlotte got a job in a bank there and rode with Jake in the 1944 Chevy he’d gotten. Dad got Gwen and me jobs at Tucker’s peach shed eight miles south of us. He drove us down each morning and picked us up each afternoon. The pickers went out at first light and by 9:30 the tractors were bringing in wagons piled high with bushel baskets of peaches. That’s when we had to be there. The girls culled the peaches, picking out the one that were badly formed or bruised. I worked loading the boxes onto waiting tractor-trailers that carried the peaches to cities in the north. Gwen made twenty-five cents an hour. I made thirty-five cents an hour and thought I had found the golden goose. We argued about the pay differential. I had the more physically demanding job. Besides boys believe they’re superior to girls. We can’t help it. I think it’s genetic. Males get criticized for it, but I’m sure females believe they’re superior, too.
            In the afternoons and on Saturdays we had our regular chores. Kids and adults gathered most weekends at the school ball field for pickup games, and I went when I could. I rode my bicycle every chance, with or without Homer and Horace who were helping their dad on the Hudson’s farm.
            I had a growth spurt over the spring and summer, grew five inches and got slimmer, not a lot slimmer; I was a hefty boy. I saw Jane from a distance, fishing at the lake and once at Demby’s, and saw Mr. McGilroy two or three times from a distance.
            First thing you know, Jake was packing to go back to college and Charlotte was preparing for her freshman year. Gwen and I started school again, and I turned fifteen. I went out for the football team and soon found that I liked football better than basketball or baseball because in football you’re supposed to be rough. And my first school romance blossomed. Sally Murphy, one of the cheerleaders, and I started hanging out together at school and sitting together on the bus on game days. Though I’d been driving vehicles as far back as I could remember, I was only fifteen and couldn’t drive legally, so those were our dates.
            A pretty woman elevates a man’s standing with other men. I had fought and hustled my way to a higher rank among my peers, but Sally Murphy on my arm lifted it even higher. I liked it. I liked Sally for herself, but I liked even more the effect she had on my rank.

            In early October, Rev. Stockton died of a heart attack. He’d been the minister at Ebenezer for twenty-seven years. Sudden unexpected deaths will stun a community. He’d barely been laid to rest when Gus Hudson died. He wasn’t but thirty-five. He’d been out bush-hogging, got off the tractor to check something and, well, nobody knew what happened. The tractor had surged forward, knocked him down and run over him. Miss Emma found him.
            Everything comes in threes.
            In the middle of October, Bruce got sick. He’d been sick off and on for most of his life, but he’d always bounced back. I guess he’d used up his last bounce. Day by day you could see him getting weaker and weaker, and one night he just eased away. Nearly to the end he kept that innocent smile.
            It tore a big piece out of my parents’ hearts. They called on that old stoic fortitude that had served them so well for so long, but it wasn’t there. Gwen and Charlotte tried to take over the household duties for mom, but she wouldn’t let herself be alone with her broken heart. Jake and I tried to take over some of dad’s chores. He would sit and stare out across the lake then sigh deeply and go back to work for awhile before he sat again and stared out across the lake.
            Bruce’s death hit me hard. I’m not sure why. I didn’t see it coming and it hit me like a battering ram. I was able to find some stoic fortitude for myself when others were around, but at night in my bed, I wept. Gwen heard me and came to my room. We held each other and cried.
            It was hard, really hard the day we laid Bruce to rest. As we made our way to the graveside, I looked around. Nearly the entire congregation was there as well as many other members of the community. Bob Smith was there. Elam Simpkins, a black man who sometimes helped on the farm, was on the periphery of the crowd with his wife. Several feet behind them was Crazy Jane.
            It takes an awful lot of time for a deep wound in your heart to heal, but you have to keep on. Jake and Charlotte went back to college. Gwen and I went back to school. I practiced football in the afternoons. About a month after Bruce’s death, the coach had something to attend to and football practice was cancelled. I rode past the church on my way home, stopped at the cemetery and sat on the ground beside my brother’s grave. I couldn’t help but cry. I felt so guilty about being ashamed and embarrassed by Bruce. I heard a car door close. I dried my tears and didn’t look around but heard footsteps as they came up behind me.
            “Hello, Billy.”
            “Hello, Miss Emma.”
            “I’m so sorry about Bruce.”
            “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. And I’m sorry about Mr. Gus.”
            “Thank you.”
            We were silent. I expected to hear Miss Emma walk away but didn’t.
            “I’d be obliged if you’d sit with an old lady for a little spell,” she said.
            “You’re not old, Miss Emma.”
            She smiled indulgently. I stood and we walked to a cement bench she’d had put beside Gus’ grave.
            “This is where I want to be laid when I’m gone,” she said, “right here where I put this bench. Will you remember that for me, Billy, in case I go suddenly and no one knows to get rid of this bench? Will you?”
            “I sure don’t want to be out of line, Miss Emma,” I said, “but you could marry again and have children. You’re a handsome woman.”
            She blushed and looked at the ground.
            “Thank you, Billy. That’s not out of line. A woman likes to feel attractive. Gus always made me feel like I was attractive. But I can’t have children, and I don’t know as I’ll be looking to get married again.”
            “I’m sorry, Miss Emma.”
            She bowed her head and brought a dainty handkerchief to her eyes. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I scooted over until our legs touched and put my arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against me and cried briefly then she patted my leg and sat up. I moved my arm. She daubed the corners of her eyes.
            “I thought that particular well was dry,” she said, “and I certainly didn’t mean to impose on you, but I appreciate your kindness. There’s something comforting about physical contact with a…a kindred spirit.”
            I thought about holding Gwen and crying with her.
            “Yes, ma’am, there is.”
            We sat there quietly for another minute.
            “It doesn’t seem to make sense, does it?” she said.
            I thought to try to dodge that question, but I didn’t.
            “No, ma’am. I’ve been thinking how many things don’t make sense.”
            “You want to talk about it?”
            “No, ma’am.”
            She nodded. “I know you miss Bruce.”
            I looked away when my eyes moistened.
            “I was mean to him. I was embarrassed by him.”
            She put her arm around my shoulders.
            “Why couldn’t he have been normal, like other kids?”
            “He was always happy, always smiling, and that makes me think that he didn’t have to endure the conflicts you and I experience as life tugs us in contrary directions. Personally, I think that children like Bruce are God’s gift. While all the rest of us are fighting to find and keep our place in the world, there are these special children who love everyone for no reason except that they do. If they notice the wrongs we do them, they forgive them. I think God gives us children like Bruce to remind us that there is such a thing as unconditional love.”

            Holidays are particularly difficult after the death of a loved one. We tried to create a sense of normalcy during Thanksgiving and Christmas, but one of the voices in the song of our family was forever silent.
            I sneaked over to Jane’s after Christmas. I took her an orange and a tangerine. Fresh fruit, especially citrus fruit, in the wintertime was a treat back then, so there was always an orange in our stockings along with the nuts and hard candy. That year there had been three oranges and three tangerines for each of us.
            Jane was tentative, her eyes haunted, when she answered the door. She stood for a brief moment then opened the door for me.
            “Sorry I haven’t been by.”
            She just nodded. I sat and she sat opposite me, her left arm on the table and her right down beside her.
            “I brought these for you.”
            “What they is? I know that an orange. That an orange, too?”
            “It’s a tangerine. It’s like an orange, but sweeter. Try it.”
            She didn’t show much interest and didn’t take the fruit, so I started pealing it. She looked from my hands to my face.
            “You ‘bout all growed up,” she said wistfully.
            I halved the fruit and pulled a wedge off, handing it to her. She just looked at it.
            “You eat it first,” she said suspiciously.
            “I already know what it tastes like. This is for you.”
            “Ole Gil send you down here with that?”
            “He trying to poison Jane, you know. He ain’t sent you to poison Jane?”
            “Jane, I wouldn’t hurt you for anything. You’re my friend.”
            Her eyes showed a skirmish going on inside her. I didn’t understand it but I saw it. It frightened me and made me sad at the same time. I put the wedge in my mouth and chewed, spitting the seeds in my hand.
            “They’re real sweet, but they have a lot of seeds,” I said.
            The skirmish in her eyes continued. I held a wedge out to her. She just stared at it as if there was nothing else in the world. I was at a loss.
            I spoke softly, but her eyes snapped up to mine. She looked through me then focused on my eyes. She seemed afraid.
            “I don’t hear it no more. They so loud, I don’t hear the music no more.”
            “Who’s so loud?”
            “The voices. The voices so loud I can’t hear the music.”
            I stood up and went to her side.
            “Dance with me.”
            I held out my hand. She was indecisive.
            “You come to hurt me? That what they saying.”
            I had a chill.
            “No, Jane. I would never hurt you.”
            “It Billy, ain’t it?”
            “Yes, ma’am. Billy McCaskill.”
            “He a good boy. He dance with me.”
            I put my fingertips on her forearm.
            “You ain’t gonna hurt Jane?”
            “No. I want her to hear the music.”
            As she let me take her hand she brought her right arm up and set the butcher knife on the table. That gave me another chill. She stood and brought her body up close to mine and we began to sway. We swayed slowly for three or four minutes.
            “I hear it,” she whispered. “I hear the music.”
            I could tell that she was hearing the music; I could tell from the sway of her body. She put her head against my shoulder, her mouth near my neck.
            “Why you nice to Jane? Why you nice to a crazy colored gal?”
            “I like Jane. She helps me hear the music, and I like to hear the music.”
            We danced slowly for a long time, five minutes maybe.
            “Why they so loud, Billy?” she whispered. “Why them voices so loud?”
            “What do they say?”
            “Crazy things sometimes.”
            “They talk to you?”
            She hesitated then nodded. “Sometimes they talk to me. Sometimes they talk among they selves. They doing that now. They saying you gonna hurt Jane.”
            I shook my head slowly. I don’t know if I was more scared or sad. I turned my face slightly and gave her a little kiss on the ear. Jane’s hand went up and touched the spot.
            “You kiss a colored gal.”
            “I kissed my friend.”
            “They saying it a poison kiss.”
            “I don’t care.” She snuggled up against me. “You my friend, and I hear the music.”
            “Don’t listen to them. Listen to the music.”
            “They say ole Gil gonna kill me, sooner or later.”
            “If you’re afraid of him, why do you stay here? Why don’t you move?”
            She pulled back slightly. “Where I gonna go? I ain’t got nobody. Where I gonna go?”
            “I’m sorry.”
            She nestled up against me.
            “I couldn’t run away, even if I had somewhere to go. He done told everybody how crazy I be, how I done all manner of wicked things when I was a youngun. The Sheriff just pick me up and haul me back. Then I be sorry. I learnt that lesson.”
            “What do you mean?”
            “He had the Sheriff come take me to that mental hospital. He done it ‘cause I started screaming and hollering ever’ time he come to do his business with me. The more he slapped me around, the more I screamed and hollered. He finally got fed up and made my mama say it was her idea and swear to all sorts of lies. Then after my mama died, he come down and laid down the law, said he’d get me out but I had to do what he wanted, when he wanted it.”
            She looked up at me as if for understanding.
            “That hospital a horrible place. All the men be using Jane, so I come back. He don’t bother me much, just now ‘n again. I can grow my flowers and dance in the sunshine, and I’m glad I come back ‘cause I found a friend.”
            She nestled back against me and we swayed gently for another few minutes.
            “He kilt my mama,” she said softly.
            I stopped dead still. “What?”
            She tilted her head back, held my eyes and nodded. “They told me he done it.”
            That gave me the creeps. I didn’t know what to say. “Somebody ought to tell the Sheriff.”
            She smiled indulgently.
            “You? Or me?
            She laughed humorlessly.
            “Can’t nobody do nothing. For certain can’t no young white boy nor some crazy nigger whore do nothing.”
            Could nothing be done?
            “Long as I remember, ole Gil been coming down here. He used my mama and when I got big enough, used me, too. Got me in the family way and sent me off to have the baby. Made up some lie I’d run off to whore with some rambunctious crowd. I was in the mental hospital with a belly full of youngun. After the baby born, they give it away and a doctor fix me so I couldn’t have no more babies.
            “That’s terrible.”
            “They still a lot of doctors fix poor colored women like that.”
            “They say he kilt my daddy, too. Mama wouldn’t never talk ‘bout it, just said he went off one day and never come back. One time when she been in the muscadine wine she said he probably at the bottom of some dry well on Ole Tom Tilton land.”
            “Who’s that?”
            “Don’t know. Anyhow Ole Gil told everybody he a no account scoundrel, and maybe he was, but he didn’t deserve to get kilt just so some white man could have his wife and little girl.”
            I hugged her tightly.
            “That man evil, Billy. Don’t let him never get wind of you coming around here. Ain’t no telling what he might do, and he can lie so good, he get away with it. Course, he ever hurt you, I cut his throat.”
            She looked up at me with a gentle smile and caressed my cheek.
            “You my friend.”

Saturday, October 13, 2012

New Novel Chapter 7

And here we are with chapter seven. Remember the disclaimer from earlier (or scroll down to read it), remember that this is copyright protected, and enjoy.

A Novel by Chris Sherrill
Copyright 2012 by Chris Sherrill
            With chores and school and getting ready for winter, I didn’t see Jane for some time. Part of me welcomed the separation. As would be my state of being for most of my life, my lower nature and my higher nature were at odds. I still had that powerful sense that it would be wrong to satisfy my sexual desire by taking advantage of Jane’s need for a friend, but there was the sense that we were becoming friends and, if she weren’t buying my friendship, then she was doing something she wanted to do.
            That sounds all high minded, and it’s what I repeated to myself but at the heart of it all were two simple facts. First, she was black, and it was ingrained that a relationship, any sort of relationship, between a white male and a black female was strictly taboo, beyond taboo. Second, I was afraid. A fourteen year-old boy will fantasize about being with a twenty year-old woman, but the reality of such a thing is pretty scary.
            Fortunately, I had other things to occupy my mind.
            I ran into Bob Smith down at Demby’s. He was at the counter waiting for Mr. Demby who was looking for something in the back. I stood beside Bob. He looked at me, gave a little tilt of the head and looked away.
            “How’s it going?” I asked.
            He considered me. “It’s going.”
            “Not much new, huh?”
            “We ain’t friends, McCaskill. You think we’re friends or something?”
            Mr. Demby came back, took Bob’s money, then mine. Bob was in his old pickup sipping his dope when I went out. I walked over to him.
            “How’d you learn to box?” I asked.
            He considered me then shrugged.
            “Seen a feller at the County Fair one time taking on all comers. Said he’d pay ten dollars to anybody who could last two rounds with him. I watched him all night. Nobody lasted more than one round. I decided I wanted to be able to do that, so I went back every night for a whole week and watched him. During the day, I practiced by myself. He seen me there every night and on the last night they wasn’t no more suckers, so he took me in the ring and showed me some moves, made it part of his show, give me a dollar when it was over. I kept practicing by myself and, course, they’s always opportunities to practice on other boys.”
            He arched an eyebrow and cranked the pickup.
            “Teach me to box,” I said.
            He looked at me quizzically then snorted a little laugh.
            “You done alright.”
            “I want to know how to box.”
            Bob looked off into the distance. “My old man took his stick to me that night, after y’all left. He don’t usually need no excuse, so I sure ain’t looking to give him none.”
            “He doesn’t have to know. How will he know?”
            “You crazy, McCaskill. If we boxing and not wrestling, I’ll beat your ass.”
            “But we’ll just be practicing, not really fighting. What can happen?”
            I think you bring shit on yourself sometimes with your own words.
            Bob agreed and we went behind the store and sparred for awhile. There were actual blows exchanged, but we were pulling the punches. He showed me how to jab and block. He showed me how punch in combinations. He kept telling me to keep my head up but I kept ducking and an uppercut caught me flush on the nose. He wasn’t even swinging that hard, it just caught me perfectly. I heard a crack and blood gushed out.
            “Damn, McCaskill! Damn! Look what you done. My old man gonna beat hell outta me.”
            “I won’t tell. I’ll say I fell.”
            I started walking away. I was still dazed from the blow. Bob’s hands were on my shoulder and he put me in his truck.
            “Damn, McCaskill,” he said as he cranked the engine.
            A few minutes later we were pulling up to my house. Dad was in the yard and looked at me as I got out. I had my head tilted up to stop the bleeding. I stumbled. I felt Bob’s hands on my shoulders supporting me.
            “What…” dad exclaimed. “Bob Smith, I swear…”
            “He didn’t do anything, dad. I did.”
            I heard the screen door slam and mama and Gwen came running out. Halfway, Gwen ran back. I gave a brief explanation of what had happened. Gwen came back with a wet towel. They were so agitated that they weren’t listening to me. Mama started crying anger tears.
            “It’s broken this time. It’s broken. This is the last straw, Billy McCaskill. You hear me? And as for you, Bob Smith, I swear…”
            “Stop it, mama,” I said loudly. “Will you just stop for a minute?”
            Everyone looked at me in disbelief.
            “I told you, I asked Bob to teach me how to box. He was showing me and I ducked when I shouldn’t have.”
            “Billy McCaskill…” mama said with a quivering voice.
            “Mama, I want to learn how to box. As soon as my nose gets better, I’m going find Bob again.”
            “I won’t teach him, ma’am,” Bob said. “I swear I won’t teach him.”
            “If he won’t teach me, I’ll just pick a fight with him and learn that way.”
            Everyone was silent.
            “Billy McCaskill, you are the hardest headed boy I’ve ever seen in my life. What am I going to do with you?”
            “Mama, it’s just a broken nose. It was an accident. If I’d walked into a door, you wouldn’t tell me to stop walking. Bob wasn’t trying to hurt me. It was an accident. He could’ve just gotten in his truck and drove off, but he didn’t. He brought me home even though he knew he’d have to face you.”
            They were silent for a moment.
            “I just don’t know why you have to be such a…ruffian,” mama said.
            She turned her side to me and daubed her eyes. The depth of her disappointment hurt. A sudden tear rolled down my cheek. Bob looked away.
            “What do you want me to be, mama?” I said softly. “If you want me to be a lap dog, that’s what I’ll be. I swear I will. Tell me what you want me to be.”
            Mama turned and walked back to the house. I think she didn’t want anyone to see her tears. Gwen followed, her arm around mama’s shoulders. Dad put his hand on Bob’s shoulder.
            “Thank you for bringing my boy home, Bob.”
            “Mr. McCaskill…”
            “It was an accident. Don’t think anymore about it.”
            Dad took me to the doctor’s office and he reset my nose. That hurt worse than the break. The tension in the house was thick for the next three days. Mama was chilly toward me. Gwen was my nurse.
            “You know mama loves you, Billy,” she said. “You’re her favorite.”
            I laughed, which hurt my face. She pulled a bloody gauze plug out of my nose.
            “It’s true. Jake is his daddy’s son and you’re your mama’s son.”
            “Who are you?”
            “Mama’s daughter. Charlotte is daddy’s daughter, when she chooses to visit this plane. We all have favorites, can’t help it, just like I love Jake and Charlotte, but you’re my favorite, and I’m your favorite.”
            “You’ve got it all figured out.”
            She shrugged. “It doesn’t take a genius. You just have to watch.”
            After school on the third day, I was sitting at the kitchen table working on some homework. Mama was behind me fixing supper. Gwen was occupying Bruce in another part of the house, so I knew something was up. Mama seemed fidgety. Finally, she sat beside me, turning her chair to face me.
            “Turn around here,” she said. “We need to talk.”
            I turned my chair to face her.
            She held her fingers to my lips for a moment.
            “I don’t want you to be a lap dog, Billy, not my lap dog, not anybody’s lap dog. It’s not in your nature and if I made you try to be that, it would kill your spirit.”
            “I don’t want to disappoint you anymore, mama. I want you to love me.”
            Her head twitched back slightly.
            “Do you think I don’t love you, Billy?”
            I leaned forward so she wouldn’t see me cry. She leaned forward and hugged my head.
            “Oh, Billy, there aren’t any words to describe how much I love you.”
            I cried. I think she did, too. Presently she sat up.
            “Dry your eyes, son. I have more to say.”
            I sat up and wiped my sleeve across my eyes.
            “I’ve been thinking, and I wonder if maybe I took a wrong course some years back. When you were just a little thing, I saw how bright you were, and I began to think that maybe you’d be a teacher one day. That’s been my goal for you ever since. That was what I wanted, and I didn’t stop to consider what you wanted. I always thought I was giving you positive direction and you were just a contrary child, but maybe I was trying to force you in a direction that was against your nature.
            “I say you’re hard-headed. Your daddy says you’re determined. I guess those are two sides of the same coin. We both agree that you have a big heart. You’re rough and tumble, but you know right from wrong and you’ll be a good man one day, and that’s all that matters, so I’m going to let out the apron strings, let you follow your inner voice and make as many of your own decisions as is safe for a boy to make.”
            “I’m almost done,” she said. “Wait here.”
            She stood and left the room. I just looked at my hands. She came back fifteen seconds later and set a large box on the table beside me, then took her chair.
            “Open it.”
            “Boxing gloves?”
            “They were less expensive than the visit to the doctor.”
            I laughed. “I love you, mama.”
            “I love you, too, son.”
            I leaned forward and hugged her.
            “Let’s not get all gushy again. Honestly, I don’t know where you and Gwen get that gushy side.”
            “I think we get it from you,”
            “Huh. Go wash up and set the table, then call the others. Supper will be ready shortly.”
            I can’t describe how good it felt to have my mom as an ally. She wasn’t about to knuckle under to whatever whim came to my mind, that was against her nature, but I began to see in her eyes and in her attitude that she was weighing everything as to how it might benefit me.
            I practiced boxing with Bob Smith a couple of times a week in our barn. Dad often watched. Gwen watched a couple of times but she didn’t like violence. Mom wouldn’t watch. Bob and I got to be on pretty good terms. I wouldn’t say we became friends but we developed a level of mutual respect.
            I still rode my bicycle whenever I could for as long as I could.
            At school I did what I had to do to get by, academically, but I enjoyed socializing. Some of us were playing basketball after school and the coach saw me and got me to try out for the team. We were a small, community school, so you didn’t have to be good to play a sport; you just had to be willing to work at it. Maybe life is like that. Anyway, I was a strong, solid kid and took up a good bit of space under the basket. We practiced every day after school and dad got a big flashlight for my bike so I could ride it home after dark. A number of times I thought about swinging by Jane’s but it was too dark. On Saturdays I had wood to cut and split to make up for not helping with that during the week. Jake was away at college, so that fell to me.
            We had our first basketball game the week before Christmas break. We played a bigger school and got a thorough thumping. The bus ride back was quiet. We did better in the second game, but still lost. I liked basketball. I was awkward and largely ignorant about it, but I liked being part of a team. Then school let out for Christmas.
            I’ve always liked Christmas and everything I associate with it: the crisp winter air, the music and the atmosphere. I like to greet and be greeted with, ‘Merry Christmas’. I just like it. It was a pleasant Christmas, for the most part. Bruce was sick for a lot of it. He was sick more and more frequently. They said it was a part of his condition. Except when he was very ill, he never lost his big blameless smile or his cheerful greetings.
            Before Christmas we participated in the church pageant, as usual, went caroling to some of the shut-ins. We drank spiced cider and ate with dad’s people, then did the same the next day with mom’s people, just like we did every year. Christmas Day we spent quietly at home, just family. It sleeted the day after Christmas and no one could go out. The days after Christmas tend to be anticlimactic, boring. On New Year’s Day it had gotten warmer and I told the folks I was going for a ride and took off.
            I circled wide and went to Jane’s. She was in one of her sad moods, but Christmas all alone, with no family or friends is depressing for anyone. She listened indulgently as I talked about school and basketball. I got some wood and stoked the fire in her little cook stove.
            “I got something for you,” I said.
            She looked with an unreadable expression.
            “Jane didn’t…know you be coming by,” she said.
            “That’s okay. Here.”
            She took the little object.
            “What it is?” she asked.
            She weighed it in her hand.
            “Open it.”
            She tore the paper off and held it up.
            “A whet stone?”
            “For your butcher knife.”
            She suddenly busted out laughing, then jumped to her feet and hugged my neck.
            “You don’t think Jane crazy. You don’t think Jane crazy if you got her a stone to whet her knife.”
            I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She watched with interest as I unfolded it.
            “I drew this the day you gave me the pumpkin pie. You can have it, if you want it.”
            She took the paper and studied the image for a long moment before she looked up at me.
            “You drawed this?”
            I nodded.
            “Who it is?” she asked. “This Jane?”
            Her voice was soft and guarded, as were her eyes. I nodded. She looked back at the paper.
            “Jane purdy,” she said softly.
            “Yes, Jane is very pretty.”
            She wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly for the longest time. I held her. It was just so damned stimulating to feel her body against mine.
            “You come with Jane,” she whispered, “she give you something special.”
            She started to pull away but I didn’t let go.
            “No. I can’t.”
            “If Jane white, would you go? Jane can’t never be white, but she been trying to talk better with you. She listen to how you talk and try to talk like you, so you don’t think she just a ignorant colored gal.”
            “I think you’re very smart.”
            She looked in my eyes, smiled and gave me a little hug.
            “Your mouth say you don’t wanna go with Jane, but other parts ain’t so sure.”
            “I can’t. My mama and I had a hard time a little while back, but we’re working on it and she’s trying really hard to trust me to do the right thing. If she found out I lay with a grown woman, it would break her trust, and I don’t want to do that.”
            “You a good boy.”
            She pulled away and patted my cheek.
            “When you ready,” she said.
            “We should just be friends,” I said.
            She studied my eyes and something seemed to click. Her eyes narrowed.
            “You be my friend just because?” she asked.
            I nodded. “Just because.”
            As I got to my bicycle Cyrus McGilroy came out from behind a tree. It scared me so bad I yelled. He pointed his cane at me like a gun.
            “You’re playing with the devil, boy,” he said.
            I couldn’t speak.
            “That gal’s crazy. I’m telling you for your own good. Ain’t no telling what she’s capable of. Stay away from her.”
            I jumped on my bike and sped away. He called from behind.
            “Don’t make me go see your pa.”


WARC-Truncated: length

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Sunday, June 19, 2011

Another butterfly sighting!

I TOLD you I love butterflies!  I just got these incredible dies from Cheery Lynn Designs that are so intricate, but oh so easy to cut.  The butterflies come in two sizes with three dies to a package and you'll see a sample of each size on the following cards.  The other thing I recently purchased was two doilies from Cheery Lynn as well.  Doilies are very "hot" now and they really do lend themselves nicely to our card making needs.  So here's my sampling combining butterflies and doilies.

On this first card, I cut the doily from glossy CS and brayered over it using Kaleidescope ink.  I really like the variation of color that it shows.  On top of that I used the Daisy Flower from Spellbinders in two layers, inked the edges and on top of that I popped one of the small butterflies from Cheery Lynn all glittered up with Sparkle N Sprinkle glitter.

This next card shows what I call a "typical" doily - you know, the typical  pattern you find in the stores to dress up your baked goods for company.  It's a rather large doily so I decided to play with it a bit to fit onto a regular A2 size card and this is what I came up with.  The corner punch is one by Kreaxions (4 in 1 punch) and the butterfly is the large monarch from the new Cheery Lynn set.

I simply creased the entire fan using my Scor-Buddy, cut a slit down one crease and fan folded the doily.  I then taped it to my card front and brushed on glue and glitter around the edges (you can't really tell by the picture - sorry). I then made a 3 loop bow with my E-Z BowZ bow making tool and attached it where all the fold lines meet, glittered up the monarch butterfly and added that as well.

Well, let's see if my next card can be devoid of butterflies (probably not) as I'm having way too much fun with them.  By the way, you can take this class with me at the Scrapbook Cupboard on Friday, June 24th.

Thanks for dropping by.  Ciao for now.
Ciao Bella!

SM said...

Ooooh! What do the other butterflies look like? I LOVE those doilies and what you did with them! So pretty. Thanks for sharing.

Barbara Bruder said...

Oh DeeDee, I keep looking at those dies and I like each and every one. The hard part is which to get 1st. Your 2 cards are so pretty.

ChrisD said...

Anonymous said...

seriously, how do you come up with this stuff??


text:
Witness an unforgettably forgettable failure from one of low budget cinema's most notable underachievers.
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This may sound pretty odd coming from an individual such as myself, but z-grade exploitation filmmaker Anthony Cardoza is quite a bit of queer duck. While his stint with the U.S. Army during the Korean War earned him many a medal for his distinguished service to his country - including one for marksmanship - his subsequent, longer engagement in the motion-picture industry has resulted in each and every one of his projects completely failing to hit their mark, with nary an award to be seen from any direction. His brief association with cult auteur Coleman Francis, wherein Mr. Cardoza produced and occasionally tried to act, resulted in three movies - all of which wound up being lampooned on Mystery Science Theater 3000 because of their sheer ineptitude.

During the broadcasts of the MST3K episodes, Mr. Cardoza's unforgettably forgettable performances throughout the bulk of Mr. Francis' filmic "oddyssey" also received a great deal of scrutiny, prompting an exchange of dialogue: "I just love how deep Tony Cardoza gets into character," which is followed up by the quip "Yeah, he just goes in there and sits." And while that is very true, even the mere act of sitting in front of a camera appears to be a painfully uncomfortably procedure for Mr. Cardoza. He is every single camera-shy person on the face of the Earth rolled into one; a (presumably) lively individual in the flesh one second, an awkward-looking humanesque entity with a strange grimace affixed to his tumid kisser the next once he himself has called out the word "Rolling!" to his own film crew.

Now, if you can imagine that sort of a man making his own movies, too, you should be able to get an idea of how impeding his solo work is. At least Coleman Francis - a former bit player in Tinseltown - had some prior experience in the industry, and had an idea of how he should have been doing things (though he didn't succeed). Mr. Cardoza, on the other hand, when left to his own devices, was capable of scraping up some of the most appalling non-talent in order to tell an excruciatingly vacuous photoplay that even a clowder of lazy, stoned cats would get up and run away from. And if that doesn't give you at least some indication as to how magnificent Anthony Cardoza's Smokey and the Hotwire Gang is, I suppose nothing will.

Hoping to cash-in on the various trucker/CB, hicksploitation, and road movie genres popular at the time, Mr. Cardoza's 1979 ode to incompetence (which was probably made a few years prior to its release and wisely shelved for a short period) was written by Mr. Cardoza's son, T. (Tony) Gary Cardoza. The misfire of a plot attempts to focus on the plights of several different stories, all of which are supposed to collide into each other during the movie's climax. Sadly, there is no climax - though the movie is definitely a disaster. One such party consists of a two yokels, led by Stacy Keach's younger brother James, who carts around in a stolen convertible with B movie great Tony Lorea, who sits - I kid you not - in the car atop of an entire toilet, which is substituting a missing passenger seat.

This is evidently Tony and T. Gary's woefully misguided effort at being silly and cutesy. Needless to say, it comes off as being just plain weird - even by the relatively low, barely restrained standards of '70s exploitation filmmaking! And that's just the tip of Tony's iceberg of a movie (which could sink any titanic-sized masterpiece), as we shift between our two hicks, two average '70s guys in a Porsche (Q: What is the difference between a bunch of Porches and a bunch of porcupines? A: With the Porsches, the pricks are on the inside. Thank you!), and at least two groups of car thieves working for a busty beauty nicknamed Hotwire (Carla Zigfield, who was last seen on Judge Judy - and not as an actress, either) who has schemed up one very ridiculously poorly-scripted armored car robbery as you can imagine.

Two of Hotwire's minions, who are representatives of the Mafia - one of whom is a young Tony Sirico (of The Sopranos fame!), while the other is unmistakably a guy in tan-colored greasepaint - steal a van for the heist. Unfortunately for everyone, most notably the viewer, said van is a customized love shack for a beefy mustachioed sex machine (real life customizer George Barris, who designed many a vehicle for The Banana Splits, which is as close to greatness Smokey and the Hotwire Gang gets), who promptly teams up with two mobile hookers (one of whom I could swear was in the prologue of The Wild World of Batwoman - which, again, is about as close to greatness Smokey and the Hotwire Gang gets!) in an RV to track his beloved atrocity down.

Lest we forget the film's resident "smokey" himself, played here by an exceptionally hammy Alvy Moore (Hank Kimball from Green Acres). Mr. Moore disappears shortly after the opening of the contrived excuse for a feature, only to reemerge toward the anti-climactic chase near the finale - which he does riding in the backseat of a daredevil car along with former My Three Sons co-star Stanley Livingston, who also overdoes it quite a bit. But who's that behind the steering wheel of said daredevil car? Why it's Skip Young, folks - yet another overly-exaggerated washed-up television actor (this one hailing from The Adventure of Ozzie & Harriet), whose bloated persona unflatteringly (and I suppose that's the joke) into an appropriately gaudy outfit complete with star-spangled helmet.

Look, Smokey and the Hotwire Gang is just plain bad, all right? As if he intended to add further insult to the injury, Anthony Cardoza appears to have deliberately made this one PG rated, which means no T&A. And I don't bring this matter up solely because I like seeing nekkid ladies, but because the sex angle of the title is incorporated into the picture just the same. Tony's camera definitely takes time out to observe (and not subtly, either) the curves of the aforementioned RV escorts, an entire yacht full of busty beauties, and a number of other young ladies who were brought in simply to add some eye candy (including Hitch Hike to Hell's Debra Draper, who is seen here with her twin sister, Diane) and to pad out the end credits so that it looks like the sordid little cinematic abortion actually had a cast.

But, just as every cloud has a silver lining, there are some unintentionally amusing aspects of the film. Fans of z-grade exploitation movies from the era will no doubt recognize some slightly familiar faces here and there during the film's many extraneous, incompetently edited (by Anthony Cardoza), ineptly framed scenes. (Note the numerous shots where Tony tried to position the camera just right so as not to reveal the fact that the cars aren't moving, only to have everything show anyway.) Personally, I was enamored with the godawful songs that were written especially for the movie by a songwriting duo whom I can only assume were the resident act at Tony Cardoza's favorite lounge (possibly the defunct Filthy McNasty's location used in the beginning of the film), particularly a wonderfully terrible disco theme song.

Released several times in the past on videocassette under at least two different tiles (the one we're seeing the film as in this case, as well as a retitled version bearing the name Mafia Lady), Smokey and the Hotwire Gang has at long last reached DVD courtesy the folks at MVD Visual. In keeping up with the ripoff nature of the movie itself, this digital release of the movie is nothing more than a VHS that has been transferred to disc, possibly from a PAL format cassette at that judging by the uneven top border (it's something only a few people will know enough about to notice). Maybe the original source materials exist anymore or not (though I'm sure there has to be at least one 35mm print floating about somewhere), so I guess beggars can't be choosers.

Then again, I doubt anyone was begging for a DVD release of Smokey and the Hotwire Gang in the first place (although, since we're on the subject, I would really like to see Screen Archives dig up and release that soundtrack). I'm sure that goes for most of the people who may have paid up to a whole dollar to see Smokey and the Hotwire Gang back in 1979. Oh, and in case you're wondering: yes, Mr. Anthony Cardoza himself appears in the film (as the bigshot boyfriend of Miss Hotwire, because he could only land that with a producer credit). And yes, he has his usual weird, uncomfortable, sleepy aura goin' on. But that's OK, because everyone who watches Smokey and Hotwire Gang will feel exactly the same way.

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Simplex Supers for sale

posted by savetherialto on June 7, 2010 at 7:30 am

I have two simplex Super projectors for sale. Here is a link of what kind they are. Mine don’t have the front film attachment, I dont know what it is called.
They are located in Kenedy, Texas. I also have to older arc projectors (the top part).

If you are interested please email me at
( it’s the ta7400 in the pics above in the scoll, second from the left )

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martedì 31 gennaio 2012

You've stolen my heart!

Ciao ... buon martedì a tutti voi!!
Sono passati altri quindici giorni e alla fine sono di nuovo qui. Spero che tutte le vostre cose stiano andando per il meglio!
Oggi c'è un nuovo challenge al  Deep Ocean e questa settimana vorremmo vedere dei lavori sul tema "Love you!".
Tra pochi giorni sarà la festa di S. Valentino e noi saremo preparati per l'occasione... :-)
Per la mia card ho deciso di usare un timbro di Magnolia  molto carino dalla nuova collezione "Sweet Crazy Love". Ci sono Tilda ed Edwin abbracciati, è solo il quarto timbro in tutta la produzione di Magnolia ad avere questo soggetto, non potevo proprio farne a meno!

Hi there... happy Tuesday to you all!!
Another forthnight has gone by and finally I'm back again.  Hope all your things are going at best!
Today there is a new challenge up at  Deep Ocean  and this week we are looking for creations with the theme "Love you!".
In few days will be S. Valentine's day and we'll be prepared for the occasion... :-)
For my card I decided to use a very cute image from the new Sweet Crazy Love collection by Magnolia.
There are Tilda and Edwin cuddling each other, and this is the forth stamp with this subject only  in all Magnolia collections, I couldn't help using it!

Some details / Alcuni dettagli

Stamps: Magnolia "Tilda & Edwin On Ice", Magnolia sentiment
Paper/Cardstock: Magnolia paper, cardstock from my own stuff
Embellishments: Wild Orchid Crafts: flowers, pearl sprays and pearls brads; The Ribbon girl: white lace and pearl pins, Stickles: Stardust, Glimmer mist: Dazzling Diamonds
Colouring/Ink: Copic markers, Distress Ink: Vintage Photo
Other:  pink ribbon and white cotton lace from my stuff

I have entered this card into these challenges:

Totally Tilda: Challenge #39 Pink & Red Valentines
Magnolia-licious challenge: JANUARY CHALLENGE - INSPIRATION
Simon Says Stamp:  ANYTHING GOES!
Charisma Cardz Challenge: Challenge #3 - Pretty In Pink!
The sketchy challenges: Sketch #15 - Kellie's Sketch
Anything goes challenge: Challenge 59 - To The One I Love

Thank you for stopping by!! I hope you get a chance to play along with us this week. The team  have really made some stunning cards this week, go  there  and have a look!

I have another post to share with you a bit later on so I won't be too far.
Until then... take care and enjoy the rest of the evening.

12 commenti:

  1. OMG....this is so precious, Cinzia! Such gorgeous
    coloring of this adorable duo and the design is phenomenal. Beautiful details!

  2. Well said ladies, this card is over the top gorgeousness in full bloom !!! Wow what a beautiful creation with all those wonderful flowers & the adorable couple colored to perfection. I am in AWE ...

  3. Wow stunning card, lovely use of the colours and gorgeous detail, thanks so much for sharing with us at Totally Tilda, hugs Liz xx

  4. Gorjuss card hun, stunning in fact,thanks for joining us at Charisma Cardz this week.
    Shell xx

  5. This is stunning! Love all the pinks and that sweet little image! Thanks for joining us this week at Charisma. Good Luck!

  6. Absolutely beautiful!! so many gorgeous details ... stunning :)
    thanks for sharing it with us at Totally Tilda :)
    Lynne xx

  7. Awww...that's just adorable. Super sweet image, great coloring, lovely papers and fab details. Perfect! Thanks for playing with us @the Sketchy Challenges - hope to see you again!

  8. Wow! this is stunning! gorgeous details and colour scheme! thanks for joining us at The Sketchy Challenges! hugs, Jane x

  9. Adorable darling so cute and beautifully coloured
    Thanks for joining our Red & Pink Valentines challenge at Totally Tilda
    Hugs Susie Sugar xx

  10. Gorgeous card with beautiful details. Thank you so much for playing along with us at Magnolia-licious Challenge. Hope to see for the next ones :o)

  11. Ciao Cinzia, bellissima questa card. L'immagine è molto dolce. Adoro gli abbellimenti che hai usato soprattutto il pizzo ed i pins.


text:
Monday, March 17, 2014

KENYA: Female cutting spreads HIV

Daily Astorian (Oregon)
March 14, 2014

Woman combats female mutilation

by Kathy Aney
Sometimes, tradition trumps reason.
That's how Rachael Tengbom sees the practice of female circumcision performed on young girls in her native Kenya. Tengbom, now a Kennewick, Wash., counselor, spoke to an audience at Blue Mountain Community College on Wednesday.

Tengbom, part of the Maasai culture, said only about two percent of girls escape circumcision in her tribe. Though the practice is illegal, the law is widely ignored.

"You can't be a woman without female genital mutilation," she said. "You go through this between 8 and 14. They don't use pain pills -- you have to face the knife like a woman."

Tengbom cited the World Health Organization, which reported that the ritual offers zero health benefits and causes disfigurement and other lasting problems.

"When you ask the Maasai why they put their daughters through this ritual, they say it's part of us," she said.
... The surgery is done en masse, she said, and usually with the same knife. Not surprisingly, the spread of AIDS is a common byproduct.

Girls don't receive much education and are expected to marry young. Circumcision is part of preparing for marriage, which is typically arranged and accompanied by a dowry of cattle. ...

Tengbom said the tradition is slowly changing through the efforts of multiple organizations, including her own, Voices of Hope. The group offers a safe house and funds education for Kenyan girls.

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Wayne Bank declares dividend

HONESDALE - Norwood Financial Corp., parent company of Wayne Bank, declared a 31-cent per share quarterly dividend payable May 1 to shareholders of record as of April 15.

The cash dividend is a one-cent increase over the same quarter a year ago.

Wayne Bank operates 16 offices in Northeast Pennsylvania. The company's stock is traded on the Nasdaq Global Market under the symbol NWFL.


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Learning Classical Chinese

I was asked recently to recommend a textbook or two on Classical Chinese. Although I myself don’t teach language courses, my understanding is that two recent textbooks are both quite good.

  • Michael A. Fuller, An Introduction to Literary Chinese, revised ed. (Harvard, 2004). This is a text for students who already have some background in modern Chinese.

  • Paul Rouzer, A New Practical Primer of Literary Chinese (Harvard, 2007). This text is a bit easier for those with no previous background in Chinese.

Beyond these two textbooks, I strongly recommend this book for every serious student of Classical Chinese:

  • Edwin Pulleyblank, Outline of Classical Chinese Grammar (UBC, 1995; U Washington, 1998).