The Lizard Chronicles

Some of this is true. Some of this is better. –Too Much Joy

Dissonant Unrest May 11, 2016

Filed under: Fiction,Life tales,Uncategorized — lizardesque @ 4:22 pm
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You know those “13.1” or “26.2” stickers that some people have on the backs of their cars to signify that they’ve completed a half or full marathon? Yeah, well, I’ve never come close to running a marathon, but today, I finished reading Infinite Jest, and I kind of want something like this for the back of my car in recognition of this accomplishment.


Footnotes and all!

I have to think it would be more satisfying than the prospect of wandering around in a daze for an indeterminate amount of time trying to figure out what the heck I just read. More on this later when the fog clears…maybe.

Come to think of it, I read Anna Karenina last year, so I believe I deserve one of these as well.


Better than getting hit by a train!


Publications (Updated November 2013) November 1, 2013

Filed under: Fiction,Life tales,lists,Poetry,Writing — lizardesque @ 5:08 pm
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Sister (Poetry, Journal of Ordinary Thought, October 2013)

To the Unconceived (Poetry, Journal of Ordinary Thought, April 2013)

Just Be Happy! (Nonfiction, Journal of Ordinary Thought, April 2013)

Dear Anne (Nonfiction, Journal of Ordinary Thought, September 2012)

A Host of Problems (Nonfiction, Journal of Ordinary Thought, May 2012)

A List of Possible Reasons More of My Work Has Not Been Published (Nonfiction, Bylines 2012 Desk Calendar)

The Elephant on the Lawn (Nonfiction, Journal of Ordinary Thought, September 2011)

Dear Writer’s Block (Nonfiction, Journal of Ordinary Thought, June 2011)

Regarding Emma (Fiction, Nil Desperandum, April 2011)

The Little Blue Book (Nonfiction, Flashlight Memories [Silver Boomer Books], March 2011)

Thought for Food (Nonfiction, Journal of Ordinary Thought, March 2011)

The Sign (Fiction, Journal of Ordinary Thought, November 2010)

Three Minutes (Fiction, Gemini Magazine, October 2010)

Waking (Poetry, Journal of Ordinary Thought, September 2010)

The Kid Question (Nonfiction, Skirt! magazine, November 2009)

Not Tonight (Fiction, Runner Up in WOW Women on Writing Quarterly Flash Fiction Contest, November 2009)

The Wedding March (Fiction, Third Place in WOW Women on Writing Quarterly Flash Fiction Contest, August 2009)


Francypants Part 4: The Disappearing Hat Shop, Notre Dame, and Lots of Cheese November 3, 2012

Filed under: Clothing,culture,Family,Fiction,Life tales,photography,Travel — lizardesque @ 5:22 pm
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We slept late (until almost 11:00 am) on Wednesday, but considering we didn’t go to bed until 3:00 am, that’s not so bad. The day started out dreary and rainy, so our motivation to get going was low, and we didn’t leave the house until almost 2:00 pm. My mom, Rachel, and I parted with Mari and Carol, as we had different ideas of what we wanted to do that day. The first thing on our agenda that day was a stop at a hat shop I had found online. According to Google maps, the shop was only a 10-minute walk from our apartment. We originally set off in the wrong direction, however. When we turned around and headed in the right direction, we did so on the wrong side of the street, so we never crossed the street we were looking for. We stopped for pastries and to re-orient ourselves and finally set off in the right direction. Alas, when we arrived at the address, there was no evidence of a hat shop!

Oh well, there would surely be other opportunities to buy hats in Paris. From there, we headed to Notre-Dame, where we first saw the inside of the cathedral and then climbed the tower.

Inside Notre Dame

A few years ago at an art fair, I purchased a print of a photo of a gargoyle on Notre Dame, with the Eiffel Tower off in the distance. When I bought it, I just thought it was a cool picture. I didn’t realize that this is one of the pictures–the ones that everyone who visits Notre Dame takes a version of. Well, now I’ve seen this view in person, and I took my own version of the picture.

Iconic Notre Dame picture

This one looks a bit bored, but I guess he’s been up there for a long time

For dinner that evening, we went to a fondue restaurant called L’Assiette-Aux-Fromages (which essentially translates to “lots of cheese”) where we made great strides on our quest to become more cheese than human. It was wonderful. On the way home, we passed a cute but mostly empty store called Accessorie’s. A man beckoned for us to come in and look because there was a huge sale. Construction was beginning tomorrow, and almost everything was 10 Euros. We ventured in and found some cute things. I got a cardigan, and Rachel got two sweaters. Much to the dismay of the overenthusiastic salesman, neither one of us bought the leather jacket that he was pushing as though his life depended on it.

Whimsical decor at L’Assiette-Aux-Fromages


The Long-Awaited Sequel! August 10, 2011

Filed under: Fiction,Writing — lizardesque @ 2:49 am
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It’s time for another story from the library of vintage Liz. Unless my parents happen to unearth more of my masterpieces, this is the final installment.

Here we have the long-awaited (OK, not really) sequel to Broc, the tale of the missing horse. I realize I was only around 9 years old when I wrote this, but to be perfectly honest, I think I kind of phoned this one in. There’s no grade or teacher’s markings on it, so I assume that I did this in my free time just for fun.


Another Edition From the Library of Vintage Liz July 15, 2011

Filed under: Fiction,Writing — lizardesque @ 9:01 pm

This one is short, but not to worry–there’s a sequel!


Another installment of vintage Liz May 20, 2011

Filed under: Fiction,Life tales,Writing — lizardesque @ 10:57 pm

My best guess is that this one is from around 1984. It is a mystery!


The Sign March 21, 2011

Filed under: Fiction,Publications,Writing — lizardesque @ 1:48 am

The Sign

Elizabeth Barton

“Just give me a sign that I’m doing the right thing.” I say it under my breath. Who am I talking to anyway? I feel kind of stupid asking, but I guess I’m just looking for some reassurance that I’m making the right choice. After all, having a baby isn’t something to take lightly, especially at my age. People can’t seem to give me unbiased opinions on the matter, so I’m putting the question out there to the universe.

I’ve been over and over this again in my head, and I’m pretty sure I’ve thought about everything. It’s not as if I can be completely rational and objective about it, but I like to think I’ve come as close as possible. This is what I want. This is what makes sense for me, but here I am, second guessing myself and asking for a sign that this is the right thing to do. Does that mean that part of me is looking for a way out? They say you’re never one hundred percent certain about big decisions like this, but I just want to be as sure as I can be.

I shiver and cinch my coat tighter around me. It’s effing cold out for September, but I can’t take that as my sign because it was already effing cold out when I asked for one.

If I don’t get a sign before I reach the clinic, I’ll keep walking, and donor number 841 will just have to wait. It’s not as if I couldn’t do this on another day. I haven’t got forever, of course, but I do have some time. The people at the clinic are probably used to rescheduling. I’m sure people lose their nerve all the time.

Maybe what really matters here is my reaction to whether or not I get a sign. I’m almost at the clinic, and I haven’t anything I would consider a sign yet. What is it I’m feeling. Disappointment? Nervousness? It’s so hard to tell. Am I rooting for a sign? I think I am.

I know I can go ahead and do this even if a sign never comes, but I also know that I won’t. I will have to wait, and the more time that passes, the less sure I’ll be of what I should consider to a sign. A sign would be so easy to spot in these last few steps to the clinic, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.

I pause in front of the clinic door and look up at the sky. “Well?” I say, as I close my eyes for a moment and give the universe one last chance. I feel flakes of snow fall onto my face, and I smile.

© 2010 Elizabeth Barton
Originally published in the Journal of Ordinary Thought, Fall 2010