That being said, time to switch gears and share some good news! Sold another copy of TSS this weekend. I'm still waiting for more reviews on the Amazon page. So far it's stuck at six five-star-reviews. Vernan, the Vegan Vulture is available in print format for the first time, thanks to the ease and simplicity of using CreateSpace. You can check out the print version here. The eBook version will remain on all platforms besides Kindles through Lulu.com and is available here.
Running extremely late, again, so here's my daily duties: the next page of TSS and another picture of beautiful Savannah, GA. Check out my personal blog here, where I'll be struggling to fill the post this morning... Picking up where we left off last Friday, here is page fifteen of TSS. Enjoy:
"Her left hand pulled the lighter out from her pocket. Her hunting trips usually gave the flint adequate time to fully dry out from the initial moat soaking. A flick of her finger confirmed that and she ignited a few small leaves. She lowered her head toward the ground and blew softly on the flame, staying in that position until all of the kindling was ablaze. She rose and walked her way toward the center gun emplacement and repeated the technique. Soon both fires were raging as expected, two thin trails of smoke rose silently into the orange sky. The sun was almost touching the western tip of the island.
She pulled the biggest redbreast from the bucket, avoiding eye contact with it. She pinned the tail down with her right foot, with its head flopping up and down to the right of her body. Her right hand pulled the machete from its sheath again.
The thought always came to her just before she brought the machete down, cleanly separating the head from the body. It was quick and painless, and she doubted the fish even knew what was happening. There were times, early on in her habitation of the island, that she felt like the fish would watch her raise that machete and she could see the fear and pleading of mercy in their solid black eyes. So she just stopped looking into those eyes. She had to eat, and more than that, she had to stay strong, and meat gave her the most protein. She knew no other way. She took the first fish and walked to the center fire. Both head and body in hand she placed her machete directly in front of the fire. Lowering herself onto her knees, she raised the fish above her head and she closed her eyes.
Dear Heavenly Father,
Lord of Hosts,
Holiest of Holies,
I offer You this burnt offering
To give thanks to Your abounding grace,
To give thanks to the provisions You supply me,
To give thanks to this meal I prepare in Your name and honor,"
|Mickve Israel, third oldest Jewish congregation|
in the United States.