#stuff on bous mind

LIVE
Sorry for the long absences, friends.  Life-Other-Than-Middle Earth has taken hold and must be dealt

Sorry for the long absences, friends.  Life-Other-Than-Middle Earth has taken hold and must be dealt with.   I still love my King, and the fandom in general.   

One of my new time-wasters is a game called ‘Cross-Stitch’.  Decided to make my own pattern using one of Laura Oakenshield’s (I know that isn’t her username anymore) images that invokes such Thorin feels for me.


Post link
I let Tiny Thorin pick the Coke bottles again, this year. You’ve got good eyes, Master Oakensh

I let Tiny Thorin pick the Coke bottles again, this year. You’ve got good eyes, Master Oakenshield.


Post link

Bou is very ill, and Mr. Bou being the awesome husband that he is, decided that  a Hobbit marathon was just the medicine I needed.  As we get to the moment when Thorin does the “Stop, drop, and roll” maneuver to divest himself of his burning outer coat, the conversation goes like this:

MR. BOU:  Amazing how his hair didn’t catch fire.

BOU (hoarsely): Especially with that majestic mane…

MR. BOU:  Do you know you said that out loud?

BOU:  Coughing.  I was coughing.

A day may come when the longing lullaby of this song and the voices of Thorin and Company fail to stir my soul toward places far away, but it is not this day.

(Bou’s Note:  I don’t know who did this amazing re-paint of their Tiny Smaug, but damn, I need it!)S

(Bou’s Note:  I don’t know who did this amazing re-paint of their Tiny Smaug, but damn, I need it!)

So, my Tiny Smaug, who is at this moment being camera shy (read:  he’s buried under piles of paper on Bou’s desk, because it’s tax time), would like me to remind everyone that today is 

APPRECIATE A DRAGON DAY!

Of course, it could be argued that every day is Appreciate a Dragon Day here at thorinforever, but according to Tiny Thorin, every day is Majestic Monday, because he’s feeling left out.    

The “argument”:

SMAUG:  Remember this day, and let your followers know.
BOU:  I’ll post at lunchtime.  I gotta go to work.
THORIN:  What is this day?
SMAUG:  Appreciate a Dragon Day.  Take it to heart, Dwarf.  
THORIN (flipping through calendar pages and Bou’s scribbles):  When is Appreciate a Dwarf Day?
SMAUG:  Durin’s Day.   I’m sure you must have heard of it.   It comes around once a year. 
THORIN (scrolling through Bou’s tumblrs):   Wrong.  It is every Monday.   “Majestic Monday,” if we must be accurate.   And according to Bou,  every day is Majestic Monday.   Therefore…
BOU:   Um…guys…every day is also Appreciate a Dragon Day in my heart.   Just saying.


Post link

A brief interruption in my normal Hobbit musings and Thorin fanfirling to say goodbye to another icon and somewhat idol:  Princess Leia, or rather, the lady (I say that intentionally) who protrayed her, Carrie Fisher.   

Before I discovered my namesake, Boudicca (and the entire world of Celt history), there was Princess Leia.    She was portrayed as a woman of great strength who stood strong for her principles, would confront (F)orces far larger than herself to protect those she cared about, and kept cool and composed the entire time.   She did not feel the need to be the equal or better than her male companions, they all had a part to play, and she could be the leader or follow the lead of those with gifts other than hers that needed to be used in whatever a situation required.   She could be a complete badass without a hair straying from its place, or she could be soft and gentle without losing her sense of self.  

I feel all that owed as much to Carrie Fisher’s portrayal as it did to George Lucas’ writing.   At this writing, I feel a great sense of loss with the death of Ms. Fisher, and want to thank her for giving me a character I could look up to, and admire her for herself as well, for the fortitude she showed in battling her personal struggles, and against the Hollywood machine that would gobble up a lesser person.   

Thank you and may we get to meet in a galaxy far, far away from this crazy world, Carrie Fisher. 

loading