Oton

Outta my way… This dritt of a human has it all wrong. The meteor shower was fantastic. You humans must have weak eyes.

I gotta say Loved the Beer, once it warmed up a bit; Nothing better than slurping warm beer straight from the spoon. Yum! Next time bring cheese, goat cheese to be exact. Oh, and chocolate sprinkles, lots of sprinkles. I’ll have the cooks roast up a bowl of beetles on the half shell and we make a meal of it.

ERRRR. Bloody clouds hide the meoters from our view, but we had a riotious old time drinking beer and telling tales. By the way, Oton only likes warm beer and flat at that. What's that about? He said the bubbles tickle his nose. Good thing I didn't bring champange

meteors and brewskis

It's a beautiful autumn day here in Wisconsin. Oton has invited me to join him and some of his friends at the river for the meteor shower tonight. I'm so excited. I really think he's starting to trust me. I asked if I should bring anything, and he said beer. Huh, even trolls love Wisconsin's favorite beverage on a Saturday night. I wonder what kind they like...

the truth about that goat thing-

What if every thing you thought you knew about trolls was wrong? Stay with me here.

What if the bad guy in that three billy goats gruff story was the goat? I mean have you ever seen a goat? I once visited a goat barn and I couldn't believe the stench. That is something I'll never get out of my brain, Goat = pushy, smelly, filthy beasts. Even at the zoo they mob small children stealing their ice cream.

After all the victor writes the history. Think about it.

Here's the truth. The troll in the story, he was mentally ill. Really I heard about it from Oton. His name was Bob and he got bit by a bat or something. Turned him coo-coo in the head. He got all weird and foamy at the mouth and hungry, really hungry. Poor Bob was out of his head and well, goats can be pretty tasty I hear.

Okay, so his name wasn't really Bob, but you couldn't pronounce his real name. And goats, well they are funny, but definitely smelly, I'm not moving an inch on that one.

No troll in his right mind lives alone under a bridge. They are social living in villages working, playing and playfully teasing each other. I'll prove it to you...

It all started with that letter from the editor- looking for story ideas and photos, the quirkier the better- was she talking to me?I'd been working on improving my photography and immediately an idea popped into my head- & yes, it was quirky!

The Stoughton Press is a fun publication geared towards promoting my home town, Stoughton, Wisconsin. We have a great downtown full of artisits and a really cool historical district with gorgeous mansions. I'm new to town, and thought this might be a way to meet a few people.

My idea for this historic Norweigian town, TROLLS of course, but not just any trolls. I have totally reimaged the trolls who live outside Stoughton. The editor loved the idea and has run wild with the idea.
 
I was only going to take the photos, but she wanted more. What is his name? Where does he live? What does he want? I had thought we could hold a contest to name the troll, but she was right; he needed a name. Oton my tiny friend screamed, you can call me Oton. He has a secret troll name, but he doens't want the elders to know it is he who is reaching out the the human folk. However he is a talkative little dude so he told me I can share this much-
He lives in the troll village of Elvsmyr. Oton has introduced me to his many friends and they have told me who they are, how they got there, what they love, what they fear, and most of all that trolls are very misunderstood creatures.

Oton doesn't want to give too much away yet, but my little friends are anxious to try out this human invention- a blog.
Join me here to learn more about Oton and the others. They'd love to tell you more.