Rain!

There is little in this modern world that reminds me of my home, my time. But today and yesterday it has rained.

There is something about the sky and the way the clouds hang heavy with water that doesn't seem to depend on time or place. It still looks and smells the same.

I have been away again for the past few days with Jen in a different town away from her usual computer. She has worked hard on my story while we were gone.

I have my Maeb back and we have a daughter, Brannwyn.

"The light heart lives long."

-Irish Proverb

Be well.

Gone

Let us get the pleasantness out of the way first. My heart weighs too heavy to spend much time on this.

Here's to a long life and a merry one.
A quick death and an easy one.
A pretty girl and an honest one.
A cold beer—and another one!

As of this post, Maeb is gone.

She left.

She claims she was not respected or welcome in my house. She couldn't have been more wrong. When I find her, I will make it up to her.

There are some who would claim we were not meant to be together. There are some who would claim we are not soul mates. Let me tell you something about this idea of soul mates in my time.

There are many who come into your life who may, indeed, be soul mates to you. There is one that is special above and beyond that, though. There is one who is almost literally your second half. Your true match.

Your anam kara.

That is what Maeb is to me. I thought it was Aine when I was married to her. It wasn't until years after her death that I found out I was wrong. I have no doubt of this with Maeb. I have never felt anything like this as long as I have lived.

I am not one to speak of feelings and such matters. I do not wear my heart on my sleeve. That may be part of the problem I have had with Maeb. I do not often speak my heart nor my feelings. It seemed there was little point to it.

Perhaps I was wrong there as well.

I am weary.

Be well.

Impossible to Ignore

Jen is impossible to ignore.

I want to be angry with her. I refused to cooperate with her for very long tonight. We are at a very painful place for me right now with the story. When next we begin, it will have skipped forward a day and Maeb will be gone.

Please, Dorothy, no comments about that.

I want no one's sympathy. I am simply stating what will be. Gods willing, I could change it. But since I will not know until it is done, there will only be one course of action open for me. And believe me, I will seize it.

As for the birthday party we went to today, the twins are indeed precious. What children are not? Their hair is blond and curly. They are starting to walk and can take a few steps without help.

Jen is understandably proud. Yet, I know she hurts as well. I will not go into that. It is not my place to say anything.

For your reading enjoyment:

When we drink, we get drunk.
When we get drunk, we fall asleep.
When we fall asleep, we commit no sin.
When we commit no sin, we go to heaven.
So, let's all get drunk, and go to heaven!

I actually feel the need for a drink, but none is available.

Tomorrow will be a long workday for Jen. Because of that, I will write no more tonight.

Be well.

Riding in Cars

I am becoming more accustomed to riding in these modern cars. I do not know if that is a good thing or not. The speed can be nearly intoxicating. Many times, though, I find I just no longer think about it.

That could be dangerous. Especially if, as I suspect, the drivers do the same and not think about it. I wonder if that is the cause of so many of these accidents I have heard about. Thankfully, I have never witnessed nor been involved in one. I pray it continues in that way.

We are receiving good feedback and helpful hints in the local writers' group that Jen goes to. This is good in that it allows me to know we are not far off base and it gives Jen the encouragement needed to keep going.

It amuses me greatly that her friends seemed to be impressed with the fact she is into chapter 18.

Tomorrow we will be in the car again -- I admit, I am weary of riding so much lately -- to go to her neices' birthday party. There are two of them both a year old. I hear tell they are the cutest twins around. I will be able to attest to that tomorrow evening, I am certain.

And only because I have gotten into the habit of posting blessings or toasts, here is something extra for you.

Here's a toast to your enemies' enemies!

Be well.

The Setup

We have finally returned from being away for a few days. Jen is tired. She worked far more than she hoped to while we were gone. But by the same token, she wrote a lot (started and finished another chapter) and made some of her jewelry.

The cabin did look like an old cottage. An old American-style one. That did not detract from its charm, though.

We ate dinner with Jen's father. Some seafood and fish, I can understand. But why must people make such pigs of themselves? This is by no means geared toward anyone at our table but ones nearby. It was disgusting. Because of that, I will not spend any more time thinking on that.

I feel rather guilty. She was sitting here yawning, but I made her work on my story more tonight. I do not know if she did this to pay me back or if it was in her plan all along.

This is the chapter where Maeb leaves.

Why does it have to start on a happy note? Why can it not start with quarrels and fighting? Perhaps Jen knows what she is doing. I have to believe that. To do otherwise would be to admit defeat and believe my Maeb will not return to me. She has to. I would follow her clear across Ireland, or farther, to bring her back.

Health and life to you;
The mate of your choice to you;
Land without rent to you,
And death in Eirinn.

I believe I will go convince Jen to print what she has done tonight and go to sleep. Be well.

To the Office

This morning, I went with Jen to her mother's office. She had to do some training with another person to do what she does. It sounds more complicated than it looks to be, but how am I to judge since I have repeatedly made it clear that these modern times are confusing to me what with your computers and TVs and the like?

This office... The appearance of being unorganized was overwhelming. I admit my records were likely not as organized as some would have them to be, but this seemed to make even my attempts seem masterful.

I knew, of course, that Jen's work area is very cluttered but that is partly because she does so much in a very small area. (That is her story and I am sticking to it.) By the time we left that office, though, I was convinced it was a system that works for them. The woman (not Jen's mother) working there knew where everything was and what she needed to do.

There is a TV and a few of those things people seem to love talking into -- ah, that is right, telephones -- but no computer. I guess the only one they need is the one Jen works on and there would be no sense in having that at the office if she works at her house.

That brings up something else. Working away from where you live. I cannot think of an instance that was done during my time. Most living quarters were attached to the workspaces of the people. That is for another entry, however.

Though it does not apply to this since there is no mention of food nor of drinking, here is a toast to you regardless:

Here's to you and yours
And to mine and ours.
And if mine and ours
Ever come across to you and yours,
I hope you and yours will do
As much for mine and ours
As mine and ours have done
For you and yours!

We will be away from this computer for a few days so there will be no postings from me for a while. Jen assures me I will like the place we are going. The cabin is apparently designed after an old castle or cottage. We shall see.

Be well.

More Potatoes

Is it strange that I am talking about potatoes again? I would think not, but I am not a part of this modern time.

I was convinced to go out again. This time it appeared to be a more proper -- what is the word? -- restaurant. There were no fried potatoes ... french fries ... at the table this time. There was a standard potato that had been baked and there were mashed potatoes, albeit different from the mashed potatoes I am accustomed to.

These, thankfully, were recognizable. In truth, they needed salt, which was provided. But that was all. They were smooth, nearly creamy, and not rough with skins still on them. Both are good. Both are easily recognized as potatoes.

I will not comment on the meat on this table. It is what was unrecognizable. Again. Though there were smells coming from other places in the restaurant that indicated real meat was actually cooked there and not forced into more unrecognizable shapes.

I wonder how it would be to get a look inside one of their kitchens.

Here's to me, and here's to you,
And here's to love and laughter-
I'll be true as long as you,
And not one moment after.

Be well.

Hamburgers and French Fries

I knew before this is an odd world that only barely resembles the one I remember from my own time. This was brought home to me tonight, though, when I accompanied Jen out instead of staying here as I had been doing.

For some reason she thinks I need to get out, experience this modern world. I had been avoiding going anywhere because I did not want to ride in one of those cars again. One experience on that was more than enough if you ask me. But I digress.

Food is bizarre.

I cannot imagine why you would ruin a perfectly good potato by cutting it into strips with ridges and frying it. Not to mention all the salt that is on it. And this red stuff called ketchup. More salt. And sugar.

If you do not like potatoes, do not eat them. Just, for the gods' sakes, do not make them into something they were never meant to be.

I experienced a ... hamburger. I shudder to think what may have been wrong with the beef that it needed to be ground in such a manner and formed into a patty. At least the lettuce and tomato were recognizable to me. The bread was too soft. It looked like good crusty bread, but, alas, appearances were deceiving.

I will grant them this. There is a fizzing beverage Jen called "Coke" that was actually quite enjoyable. It does not quite slake the thirst, but it is still refreshing in its own way.

On that note, though it does not quite fully apply since it was not ale, here is a drinking toast:

May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven
half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.

Enjoy your hamburgers and ... french fries. I prefer to keep my stew and potatoes.

Be well.

The Last Three

Here are the last three blessings to be posted here for you.

May peace and plenty be the first
To lift the latch to your door,
And happiness be guided to your home
By the candle of Christmas.

Then:

May you always have work for your hands to do.
May your pockets hold always a coin or two.
May the sun shine bright on your windowpane.
May the rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you.
And may God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

And:

A Wedding Prayer

By the power that Christ brought from heaven,
mayst thou love me.
As the sun follows its course,
mayst thou follow me.
As light to the eye,
as bread to the hungry,
as joy to the heart,
may thy presence be with me,
oh one that I love,
'til death comes to part us asunder.

We have come to a small stumbling block in the telling of the story. I think it has to do with Jen being tired after the past couple weeks. She is hoping to be able to get away -- both from home physically and from work mentally -- for a few days at the end of this week. She will, of course, take her writing with her.

Thank the gods for that. I would fear she would forget what she was doing or where we were in the story itself before she got back.

Be well.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Like i said before, St. Patrick was before or close to my time. The story I have been working on with Jen takes place just when Christianity was starting in Ireland.

That said, here are the two blessings for this morning. Tonight the last of them will be posted for you.

May God be with you and bless you,
May you see your children's children,
May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
From this day forward.

And:

May God grant you many years to live,
For sure He must be knowing
The earth has angels all too few
And heaven is overflowing.

Since this is the weekend and Jen assures me she does not have to do any of her regular work, we may have multiple writing sessions over the course of today and tomorrow. I will tell you how it goes.

Be well.

Two More

Tomorrow, I will also post two blessings in the morning and two in the evening.

May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light,
May good luck pursue you each morning and night.

And:

Walls for the wind,
And a roof for the rain,
And drinks beside the fire -
Laughter to cheer you
And those you love near you,
And all that your
heart may desire!

Tonight's session was painful for me in more than one way.

Maeb accused me of demeaning her, which was not my intention at all. I know this will play a part in when she decides to leave.

The other way it was painful? I will not go there here nor in the manner of correspondence known as e-mail. With that said, I am certain you can figure out the meaning.

Two-for-One

This morning I have two blessings for you. Since there are several more I would like to put here for you, I will likely do some more tonight and then again on tomorrow.

May your neighbors respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.

And...

May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.

Today looks to be a busy day for Jen since she will be trying to catch up on the work she did not do yesterday and also does the work that has to be done for today. I only hope she is not putting too much stress on herself.

Be well.

Short Session

It seemed to be hard for both of us tonight.

For my part, it is dread in knowing what is coming. For Jen's part, I think it is pressure from her day job. She said several times that she was very "distractible" today. I cannot say why or how, just that she was. You would have to ask her the reasons why.

I have to laugh at comments and reactions she gets from some people (I will not name names, if you want to out yourself in the comments, be my guest) when she discloses information that is important to the story.

With the exception of Aine, who was dead five years before I met Maeb, my heart belongs only to one.

Be well.

Blessing

This is all there will be this morning. I will be back this evening with more.

May the Lord keep you in His hand
And never close His fist too tight.

Be well.

It Is Coming

I feel it coming.

Maeb will soon leave me. I wish I knew what Jen had planned. Although, since it is a combination of what I tell her and what she decides on her own, I wonder if it would be possible for me to exert some influence and make it an easier road for all of us?

Can I do that?

I realize I am fictional in your world, but I am very real in my own. And in my own time.

There was something in tonight's writing session that at first glance seems insignificant. Meaningless. Barely even worth notice. It will be big, though. It will be one of the reasons why Maeb will leave. She will feel like I do not respect her. Like I dismiss her as one of the servants or worse.

Why must I go through this?

Be well. You might as well since I cannot.

Mid-Week Blessing

Let us start with the blessing:

May you live to be a hundred years,
With one extra year to repent!

After our writing session last night, I did not get a chance to come here and write to you. Jen was on another contraption she called the telephone talking to her brother's wife about a graphics program (whatever that is).

It was of no real concern other than it did not allow for me to relax before she tried to go to sleep. I must confess to waking her up at least once, possibly twice. I will not admit to more and she has not corrected me as yet, so it appears I am not too far off the mark.

I must have shaken her awake too hard one time, though. She moved her head off the pillow and now has a pain in her neck that she calls a crick. It will pass. (That is what I have been told repeatedly this morning. I feel some guilt for it still, though.)

It is time for me to let her get to work. We started on chapter 15 last night so tonight will be more of the same. (Including another chiding from my cousin and king.)

Be well.

Progress

Let us get to the blessing for today first:

May there be a generation of children
On the children of your children.

I did my best to not bother Jen yesterday. It was a hard day on what she calls "day job stuff." I cannot understand it. It is (let me get this right) "medical transcription." She claims to hate it yet she continues to do it and says no one else would hire her. We do what we must, but it is made more difficult when the going gets tough.

She did write more of my story last night, but only a page and a half. It is still progress.

She thinks today will go better as far as the job is concerned. When she says that, we usually have a very good writing session in the evening. Here is hoping today holds true to form.

Be well.

Monday Blessing

How ironic is this? Most people seem to hate Mondays for a reason I cannot fully understand. In my time, a day off was an almost-unheard of luxury. Two days together were completely unheard of. There was always work to be done, even for a duke.

Today's blessing:

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.

Be well.

More About Rain

I must make an addition to my previous statement about liking the rain.

I certainly do not like being in your modern "cars" when it is raining hard. I lost count of the times I felt the tires slip on the road. It was rather unsettling. We managed to arrive to her grandmother's house (a delightful woman, very vibrant and youthful in appearance) and back safely.

Our session ended about a half-mark (Jen Note: Half an hour) ago. It went well and I was not left in any unfortunate situations this time.

Rain

I do not know what it is about rain that is soothing to the spirit, but it is. At least for me. And as I hear tell, for Jen as well.

This is one of those mornings where I could sit and listen to it, but there is too much to do for such a luxury. We are headed to another town (the speed of transportation in your time amazes me) for a visit with some family and perhaps a stop in at a place called Hastings so Jen can get more books. (In looking around this room, I cannot understand why she wants yet more books, but I do not question her. Do you know what she is capable of doing to me?)

Here is your Irish blessing on this delightful rainy morning:

May the roof above us never fall in.
And may the friends gathered below it never fall out.

Be well.

Good Response

I have to admit I am pleased with how my story is being received. Even the "mild" responses are encouraging, both to me and Jen.

It has been somewhat slow going today. We are getting into some technical and strategical areas of raids in clan wars. One drawback for this is Jen is not military minded. Especially not in war tactics of my time.

It will come eventually. In the meantime, I have to agree with her belief that any progress is good progress. I have faith it will come together.

I hope you are enjoying the daily Irish blessings.

I think we will try to go to sleep early tonight. And I will try not to wake her up during the night to tell her not to forget something. It will be hard, but I will try.

Be well.

Daily Blessing

There is little time to say much today. As Jen put it, it has been a crazy week, why not have a crazy Saturday to top it off? But we will not go into that here.

Today's Irish blessing says:

May the saddest day of your future be no worse
Than the happiest day of your past.

Now it is time to go get lunch so we can go to the local writers' group meeting. It is interesting to go and hear what they say about my story though sometimes when they say something should be changed and I do not want it changed, it happens anyway. So be it.

Be well.

Pushing

There are times I wonder if perhaps I am pushing Jen too hard to get my story written. I have been looking for someone who would be capable of writing it for a long time before I came across her.

A couple months ago, I walked into her dreams in the wee hours of the morning. She remember me! She remembered I had a story that needed to be told.

No one else has done that. Dreams are fickle things and people tend to forget them quickly. Perhaps my timing was the key in this one. My point is, perhaps that is why I push her so much. I wnat to get it down. I want it told. Aye, there are parts I would like to forget, but perhaps someone can take heart from those and possibly even learn from my mistakes.

When I say here that Jen has left me in an unfortunate situation it is more that she was not able to continue to where I was out of that situation, whether because of work, family obligations, or just being tired.

I am trying to take it easy on her tonight. She did three pages earlier this evening and they are good because I am mostly out of the situation I was in.

I am not heartless. Merely impatient. Can you tell me you would not be if you had waited over 1,500 years for your story to be told?

Be well.

Another Blessing

There are things going on today that I do not truly understand in this particular time I find myself in. That said, some of it has been explained and I would not shame Maeb by airing it on this page.

Here is your Irish blessing for today.

Always remember to forget
The things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember
The things that made you glad.

Always remember to forget
The friends that proved untrue.
But never forget to remember
Those that have stuck by you.

Always remember to forget
The troubles that passed away.
But never forget to remember
The blessings that come each day.

Now I am going to go make Jen get some lunch so she can finish her work and write me out of that situation she left me in last night.

Be well.

Good Omen?

Jen just ran across this and asked me to post it as she has written it, without any asides or anything. So here it is:

A week or two ago, I bought the April issue of Writers Digest. In the
Inkwell section, there is an interview with a romance editor, Rose
Hilliard.

I didn't read the whole thing yet. I skimmed it. But this stood
out to me:

"...I think there's room for growth in the sexy historical
romance...."

I think "Kiernan's Curse" could qualify as "sexy historical romance."

What is this supposed to mean? She thinks it is good news for possible future printing of the finished book, but it means little to me.

(On second thought, please do not educate me on this "sexy historical" idea.)

Be well.

Finished for Today

Why must things always get worse before they get better? And why do I have this feeling of dread that they will get even worse?

It is bad enough I cannot walk on my own in this ... scene as Jen calls it. But to be in the middle of a raid, unable to do anything, and find out Maeb has put herself in danger on the walls?

It is unthinkable.

If she were well, it would be different. Perhaps. I am still not convinced what she has in mind is what a woman should do, but she has insisted that to keep her "ignorant" (her word, not mine) is no protection at all and could actually be a liability.

So be it.

But when her broken ribs are not fully healed and when she carries my child, I will not allow her to put herself directly in harm's way.

I would rather not taunt the gods if it can be helped.

Seeing as I have already shared today's blessing with you (thankfully as I do not feel particularly blessed at the moment), I will bid you farewell.

Be well.

Happiness

Even when I am angry with her, I love to see Jen happy. (Though not nearly so much as I do my Maeb.)

This morning, she was ready to get busy on her "day job stuff" so she can write (and repair the situation she caused for me last night, I hope!) and read. She decided to do "one last check" of her e-mail. (That is something else I will likely never understand so I will not even try, though I have to admit it makes correspondence considerably faster.)

There was one with a heading of "Writers Colony Info."

I have no way of knowing how many of you who read this know Jen applied for what she calls a fellowship at the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow in a place called Eureka Springs, Arkansas. (I am writing this to you as she tells me what it is.) She was invited to a general residency, which she will be doing in June.

But back to the e-mail. It is a request for a biographical paragraph and a picture for what is called their directory.

I had to laugh at Jen's reaction. She did a little dance in her chair and laughed. I think she still cannot believe it is truly going to happen for her.

While I am here and I do not know if I will be back later today or not (as much as she is on this computer, it is likely I will be, but it is hard to tell), I will leave you with another Irish blessing.

May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.

Be well.

Irish Blessings

The writing session is over and my head aches. Jen is pleased and I should be as well. Instead, I am angry with her.

I will not go into that right now.

We have decided in honor of St. Patrick's Day (even though my time was at the beginning of the new religion that you call Christianity), we will offer an Irish blessing every day from now until then.

May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May [the gods] hold you in the hollow of [their] hand[s].

In modern times, the last line actually reads "May God hold you in the hollow of His hand" but I took the liberty of telling it as I remember it.

Be well.

Strength

I decided not to say anything other than a couple replies to correspondence I have received through this blog. (I doubt I will ever get used to that.) Instead, I decided it would be best to save my strength for tonight's writing session.

Jen received more encouragement today from Mikey. For that, I owe you my thanks. There was some mention made of a scene at the end of chapter 11 or 12. If it is what I think, I am embarassed to think it was sent out already. But done is done.

It was a most enjoyable scene for me; I will admit to that much. It is one of those I referred to in another correspondence here where she would read a book then put it down and write a scene that whatever she was reading inspired.

Today, between her transcriptions (whatever that is, I only know it is her job and she does not like it), Jen has been doing some research on where to send my story. I am not sure if it is time for that yet, but I suppose she knows better than I on this matter.

I had planned to say more but it is time for the writing session to begin in earnest. We did some earlier but then stopped for dinner. (She went to this place where you can order breakfast for dinner. Have you heard of such a thing??)

I am honestly afraid of what will happen during this session. She said something about having a "great idea."

Who will fare the worst? Jen, Maeb, or myself?

Progress

Jen is nose-deep in yet another book, though not until she wrote more on my story.

She seemed to be frustrated by what looked like a lack of progress. At first glance, she thought she only wrote two pages when in truth she did four. The other two go into the "Notes" section of her notebook.

Personally, I think she needs to re-read the kudos (whatever those are) she has received from friends who have read my story so far.

She did make progress. The pages that went into the Notes section will be added to the story soon enough. "The Big Thing" as she calls it has been weighing heavy on her mind. She says she knows what needs to happen there but she does not yet know how to get there from the point where we currently are.

It tears my heart to know what will happen. To know I may well lose my beautiful Maeb.

Jen assures me I will get her back. By the gods, I hope she is right!

Be well.

Reading

Jen has been reading a lot.

I cannot say I truly mind because there have been times she put the book down and wrote some truly wonderful encounters between Maeb and I. In that regard, I would encourage her to read more.

Except for one thing.

The more she reads, the less she writes. She is aware of this. She says she reads "to the detriment of" her own writing.

Why would she want to do that?

I suppose I could read part of the books she has read. They are by one Sherrilyn Kenyon. A large blessing is they are a quick read. A curse to go along with that is because they are such a quick read, she wants more of them. Blissfully, until she can get to a bookstore, she only has one left.

I have little room to complain. She does write daily, even yesterday when she still felt rather ill in the evening. I daresay she would have done more if someone else had not come in and taken over this ... computer to play a game that I do not understand and have no wish to.

Perhaps this evening will be better in that regard.

Be well.

On Relenting and Sensitivities

There has been some said about my creator being evil. I confess to feeling some guilt over that.

If mine were a normal, uneventful life, there would be nothing for her to write about. If there were nothing for her to write about, I would not be here -- not that I am particularly comfortable conversing through this particular means, but that is not what is at issue here.

What has brought on this episode of guilt and relenting in my stance?

I suppose it could be called digestive sensitivities.

Fish was never meant to be coated, greased, and fried to such a state that it is unrecognizable. Some people seem to be able to indulge in such monstrosities without any ill effects. The thought of it, the mere smell of it, makes my stomach turn. I think if I were to eat such, I would be ill.

Apparently such is the case with Jen this afternoon. It is nigh 3:00 and she doesn't have half the work done that needs to be before she can spend time with me this evening.

Aye, Mikey and Dorothy, I said "with me."

(My apologies. That does appear rather rude.)

If she does not begin feeling better, it is doubtful much work will be done. If she were able to even take a short nap -- say for half a mark ... half an hour, I suppose I should say -- that would make a difference as well. If I were in a position to do so, I would do some of her work to allow that luxury.

Unfortunately, it would probably have to be redone even if such a thing were possible.

Be well.

So the Description is Out?

At least to some degree, it appears.

If you read comments to what I say, you know Mikey (what is the obsession with nicknames?) said Jen (my creator) is evil when tempted. I would add even when she is not tempted.

There is a description, of sorts, out about me now. I have been described as -- how did she put it? -- "hunky, red-headed, grey-eyed." I do not fully understand "hunky."

Red-headed? Aye.
Grey-eyed? Aye.

I am surprised she did not mention my height. By current means of measurement, I am just over 6'.

I have just been informed "hunky" is to mean well-built, perhaps muscular, and handsome. For what that is worth to me.

Gods above, do not call me a stud. I have no desire to be compared to a horse intended as a sire.
Now you know more than I would have preferred.

Be well.

Strange World This

The buildings crowded together I can understand. The busy roads, to some degree, I can understand.

These wheeled conveyances moving seemingly of their own accord? I cannot understand.

My time is 1500 years past. The speeds these things move at cannot be believed. I hear things up above that are not birds. I dare not look up.

These are the least of the confusion. Boxes with windows sitting on tables and cabinets? Boxes that give you paper with very stylized printing on it?

My head spins and truly I fear the problems I had in my time are following me here. Perhaps it was not a wise decision to introduce me to the world through this "blog." I am not accustomed to this uncertainty.

It will pass. Of that I have no doubt. I am not weak.

Be well.

Who Is Kiernan Maguire?

Let us be honest here.

Kiernan Maguire, in this instance, does not truly exist save in the pages of a currently unpublished manuscript. Should that status change, you will be among the first to know.

Likewise, the town of Beinn, Ireland, also exists in the fictional realm.

The time I exist in is the beginning of what you now call the Middle Ages, around 500 AD. Depending on the historian, it is also considered part of ancient Ireland.

If you want a physical description, that will have to wait. I am not in the habit of telling anyone what I look like. Only one among the mundane world knows and I think she rather likes keeping that knowledge to herself for the time being.

Important facts:
-I am the Duke of Beinn.
-I am clan-chief for the Maguire clan.

More will come as I see it is needed.

Welcome

I confess to knowing little about modern times. I do not know this "blog" nor "computer." Yet, my creator assures me she does so we will see how this works.

In the meantime, be well.