Pax Beaut

Recently one of my friends received a "Beautiful Blogger" award and sneakily passed it on by tapping the first 7 commentors on his post (coffeypot is to blame).

I believe the Rules of Engagement are that I need to say Seven things about myself that you may not know; and pass it on to Seven readers of my blog. [that could be tricky to organise so if you are reading this and feel beautiful - please pass on the love]

Seven things about Pax.

1. Marion isn't my real name.. it's actually Susan (cue the laughing now.. yes yes it's a very prim & proper name - and quite useful in my daily work grind as a P&P library tech. I would probably like it more had my mother not once confided that she deliberately chose a "Sensible" name so I wouldn't grow up all flighty like my Nanna Marion.  Ironic isn't it!  I do plan on legally changing it at some point when I have the $$ and can bear the maternal recriminations)

2. Oh.. and Pax / Paxford.. yeah not real either [does allow for some anonymity on the web - unless of course you are a member of the SCA.. Society of Creative Anachronism.. and then you'll find me easily enough]

3. I am a member of a worldwide Medieval recreationist group (SCA) although I have not played seriously for some years now (the boyfriend belongs to a different variation on the theme that have issues with any group that use rattan for weapons instead of forged steel.  On the other hand *I* have not had my nose broken over 15 times nor do I have sword scars covering 1/4 of my body... so my hobby is safer!)

4. There are two songs that will reduce me to a blubbering mess toot-sweet.  One is "The Streets of Laredo"* - the other is the Scottish funeral song "The Flowers of the Forest".

5. I do milsupport (military support) on a small scale and have adopted soldiers that I write and send goodies parcels to.  These are all USA based military as the Australian force currently in the middle east are 1) tiny compared to the man power supplied by the USA & 2) extremely selective of who can access their details [there is no Australian equivilent of "Adopt-a-marine" or "Soldier's Angels" that I have been able to find so far].  I have been known to send Tinned Marsupials to complete & utter strangers just to hopefully give them something to smile about (I am notoriously softhearted so if you know of someone serving that could do with a small "pick-me-up" you can let me know and I'll do my best)

6. I am terrrified of snakes. (you are probably going "D'uh! that's a normal thing" however I have been known to freeze up and utter sad whimpering noises when confronted with utterly harmless non-poisonous ones.  Have I mentioned I live in Australia - home to many slithery sorts?)

7. I have a passion for Penguins (and yes... YOU can send me any that you like ;D)

*As I walked out on the streets of Laredo.
As I walked out on Laredo one day,
I spied a poor cowboy wrapped in white linen,
Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay.


"I can see by your outfit that you are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I boldly walked by.
" Come an' sit down beside me an' hear my sad story.
" I'm shot in the breast an' I know I must die."


"It was once in the saddle, I used to go dashing.
" Once in the saddle, I used to go gay.
" First to the card-house and then down to Rose's.
" But I'm shot in the breast and I'm dying today."


"Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin.
" Six dance-hall maidens to bear up my pall.
" Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin.
" Roses to deaden the clods as they fall."


"Then beat the drum slowly, play the Fife lowly.
" Play the dead march as you carry me along.
" Take me to the green valley, lay the sod o'er me,
" I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."


"Then go write a letter to my grey-haired mother,
" An' tell her the cowboy that she loved has gone.
" But please not one word of the man who had killed me.
" Don't mention his name and his name will pass on."


When thus he had spoken, the hot sun was setting.
The streets of Laredo grew cold as the clay.
We took the young cowboy down to the green valley,
And there stands his marker, we made, to this day.


We beat the drum slowly and played the Fife lowly,
Played the dead march as we carried him along.
Down in the green valley, laid the sod o'er him.
He was a young cowboy and he said he'd done wrong.

http://marionsmeepings.blogspot.com/2010/03/pax-beaut.html