Mooning about it

Did you see that big glowing orb in the sky last night? I tried to write a serious poem, but came up with this silly thing.

Under the influence of a buttery moon
I gaze at the heavens and crack open a tune,
reach for a note as high as the sky,
trip over my tongue and ask myself why
I can write, but I cannot sing.


CALL FOR SUBMISSION

This is a non-paying website seeking submissions from women.
http://tendingyourinnergarden.com/call-for-entries-womens-stories/

Unexpected sightings

I witnessed three phenomonal sights today.

I have said for years that our house is haunted. Hubby says he can't explain the noises we both hear, so he doesn't even try anymore. We both used to run to the kitchen when we heard a thud, expecting, but never finding a huge mess.

I am used to towels falling off hooks when I walk into the bathroom. The same towels which have hung securely on the same hook all day.

Today we were in the living room when the lamp came on all by itself. It flickered, got really bright, then faded. We both watched in awe.

Me: "Well how do you explain that?"
Him: "The switch must have been on and it shorted."
Me: "No, it's OFF" (I got up and checked)
Him: "I guess it's that friend you're always talking about."

Finally, after all these years, he acknowledges. Or do you think he was humoring me?

Our weather has been unseasonably warm, near 50's for two weeks, 70 degrees Thursday and Friday, back to 50s this weekend. Too warm for bald eagle watching. They usually fly our way when the river freezes north of us. But there were only three sighted today, the news reported.

We had a little snow and a good freeze before Christmas, so all of the flowers have withered. Today, I saw a pink rose bud opening on the miniature bush outside, a little gift from a confused mama nature.


This afternoon I hiked a wooded nature trail in a park where deer roam. I took my camera just in case, and got very excited when I heard rustling in the thicket. I stopped in my tracks and waited for them to emerge from the woods, but the noise continued. I bent down and peeked through the brambles. I thought it must be a squirrel scampering. To my utter surprise, it was a FLOCK of male cardinals, as red as holly berries. There must have been ten or more. They were scratching in a carpet of brittle leaves. I tried to get a photo, but I scared them and this is the photo, but oh, the picture in my mind.

A word, a sentence or two, and then a paragraph

Years ago, when I was in school, a professor gave a journal assignment as part of the coursework. I wrote flowery prose loaded with adjectives and adverbs. I wrote heartwarming, heartfelt, and sometimes gut wrenching personal essays, and once I wrote this entry: I have no idea what to write today. Some days my writing flows and other days I feel as if the words have dried up.

He red inked my last page: You have written the perfect journal and if I graded these on a competitive basis, you would have the only "A" in the class and the next highest grade would be a "C-".

From that day forward I vowed not to be a slacker. I learned how to show and not tell, how to use strong vivid verbs. I lived up to what that teacher believed about me when I didn't believe in myself. I filled the page with fluff if I had to, but I never turned in a two sentence assignment again.

I have been writing seriously and getting published for about twelve years. I have attended classes, workshops, and my first conference, but I am mostly self-taught. I have a love of writing and a God given talent. But sometimes I lose my stride. Some days I am off and running and stay at that pace for a solid week. Other times I slug along and sometimes, I can't even get out of the rut. Every writer feels this way.

My two sentence journal entry was a start, not a finish, but some days that's all we can produce, a germ of an idea, an honest feeling. Write it down! Words on paper motivate as well as frustrate. No matter what your stride is, don't hang out too long on the sidelines. Get in there and believe in yourself.

I have accepted Sylvia Forbes' January Writers challenge to write something every day in January. Sylvia is the publisher Bylines Writer's Desk Calendar.

Would I be considered a slacker if I used this blog entry as today's writing accomplishment?

brilliant flashes

I have been seeing flashes of light in my left eye since New Year's Eve. Had my eyes dialated this afternoon. No retina detachment, no tear, no holes, etc. Thank God.

So, you know when icebergs calve? Well that's what is happening inside my eye. A floater is breaking loose and may end up in my line of vision, although it kept escaping the eye doctor. When I looked left, it darted right. I've always been a bit rebellious.

In four weeks I should be good as new. Well, let's get real here. She asked me to read the eye chart before she dialated my eyes.

"That's about 20/40. You want to pass the driver's test? You better get in here for a thorough exam next month."

Also regarding yesterday's appointment fiasco, the first receptionist told the second receptionist a thing or two and called me back to confirm that I'm on for my bone density screening. Finally.

So hubby took me to lunch with my big black plastic eye sheilds. I looked like Darth Vader. Doc said, "You might feel like you're at a 1960s concert for a while, but it should wear off soon."

I was (am) a little loopy, but I thought my eyes and ears were playing tricks on me.

Two young women late teens early twenties, who shouldn't have "calved", but did, sat across from us. One wore a shirt with a slogan: I Get All My Meanness From My Mama.

Oh the converastion! Allow me.

"Whewy, look at my belly. I am so full. Don't I look like I'm conceiving right here, right now?"

"Yes, you sure do!"

"My husband proposed to me right here. He always did have a big belly, but when he finished eating here that night, his belly was up against this table and he didn't know what to do. Just like me now."

I wanted to interject, "Scoot back, it's a chair not a booth."

It's not eavesdropping when they talk megaphone-loud.

"Girl! If your preschooler went to that school where that old man molested those four year olds, you better take him to the hospital right away. The doctors can tell you if he been molested. They can tell if that man made him touch his old thing. Don't believe the school. Believe the doctors. They have ways of telling."

"I think they ought to get a concrete casket for that teacher's aide old man and put him under it and lower him into the ground." (visual - under it, and lower him?)

"I am so full, but I think I'm going to get me a carry out from the food buffet, it's only $7.95."

"Hey girl, what did you get?"

She flips the carry out container lid, and even Batgirl here could see it. She paid $7.95 for a pound of plain WHITE rice.

Calving folks, passing on the genetic make-up. Scary.

Thing One, Thing Two, Thing Three

I feel like I am starring in the Abbott & Costello bit, Who's on First?

I called and set up an appointment for a painless bone density screening next week at 4:00 p.m. The receptionist asked for the doctor's order number.

I called my doctor for an order number. The doctor's receptionist said I needed an appointment with the doctor. NO, I explained that in October, the doctor told me to call the office in Jan. to request an ORDER for the procedure.

So she told me to call the bone denisty office back and to tell them to call her.

The bone denisty receptionist calls me back. "The doctor's receptionist asked if I would be doing the procedure and when I told her, No I was the schedueler, she said she couldn't give ME the order number. I told her we can't schedule the proceduure without the number."

I called the doctor's office back. They transferred me to scheduling. The new gal says, "You need to call your doctor to set up an appointment." I want to bang my head on the wall.

I explained that the bone density screening appointment has already been scheduled and all they need is approval and an order number which the doctor approved in October.

"Let ME take care of this!" # 1 irritated receptionist says to me about irritated receptionist #2. They both have said, "I'll get back to you. Today. OR tomorrow."

It is 3:30 and this comedy has been going on since noon.

Did I mention that I also called the eye doctor because I am seeing flashes of light and nobody here is flicking any lights.

Receptionist # 3 says, "Let me see if I can squeeze you in. I'll call you back."

She calls me back. "Yes! I can get you in at noon.
TOMORROW."

I'll probably miss the other two receptionists' phone calls. No wonder I am seeing lihtning bolts.

This painless procedure is giving me a giant pain in the ...

All I want to know is if my bones are as brittle as my mind which is about to break!

Chocolate makes me do crazy things

This is a reprint from my blog on 3/10, but it certainly is appropriate as I go through another year of chocolate withdrawls. I have to wean myself in January. I decided that I can not go cold turkey.

I actually made that decision on New Year's Day, when I discovered half a bag of Ghiradelli's choclate chips stashed on top the fridge. I bargained with the devil, er, I mean myself. I'll ration myself ten a day, one or two at a time. I have been good so far. Read on to discover how pathetic I can be.


Like most women, I covet chocolate, the darker the better. As a mother of young children, I tamed temper tantrums (mine) with M&Ms that I kept stashed high in a cupboard. When my son or daughter said, "Mommy, I smell candy," I closed my mouth, chewed fast, swallowed hard and responded, "Probably your scratch and sniff stickers."

When I became a preschool teacher, I loved the perks. Kids offered me kisses at recess, the chocolate kind. One day I discovered an open bag of chocolate chip morsels that my co-teacher had intended to use for a science experiment later in the day. There must have been a thousand little niblets of delight in that bag, and I knew she wouldn't miss a few. Confident that she was with the students on the playground, I looked up and down the hall, and then I closed my classroom door. I stuffed not one, but two fists full of those itty bitty bits of divine rapture into my mouth. At one time! I was immersed in pleasure, my eyes closed, my head rolled back in ecstasy chewing as fast as I could when the door opened.

Panicked, I straightened up, held that wad in my mouth like a baseball player with a chunk of chaw in both cheeks. A good looking, substitute milk delivery man looked wide-eyed at my swollen jaws. He nodded hello and kept staring at me as he handed me the purchase order. I tried a tight-lipped smile as I autographed his paper. I probably could have pulled it off, except that he had an "Aha Moment". I could see it in his face.

"Well-well-well, helllooo there. It's been a while."

I grunted from my gut, "Uh-huh" and wondered where I'd met him. How could I not remember this gorgeous guy? He sure knew me.

"I do believe my twins, Clark and Amanda were in your class about ten years ago. Aren't you Mrs.---?"

Grinning like a ninny, and lying big time, (technically I wasn't Mrs. W. anymore) I shook my head from side to side. Out popped a chocolate chip, up popped my hand, out bugged my eyeballs. I tried to swallow, but the gob of goo started to drip down my esophagus, and I almost choked. I did what any teacher worth her salt, or chocolate would do. I spat those flavinoids into the waste basket and wiped my mouth with a tissue. Then I offered a true confession and the bag of chocolate chips to the milkman.

He declined.

Out with the old, in with the new

I love it when the house overflows with our kids and grandkids and friends on Christmas Day. I love cooking and watching everyone eat. All that noise and commotion gives me a feeling of satisfaction, of being connected. I know that memories are being made for future generations. People start arriving at noon and the last guests leave at 9:00. I am in my glory listening to the laughter and banter of our adult children.

I like the week in between Christmas and New Years. I catch up with old friends. Hubby and I reconnect, take hikes, eat our midday meals out as though we are on a date. It is a time to relax, renew, rejuvenate before returning to work. It is a wind down week.

I write poetry. I also hand write thank you notes to my students and messages to their parents. I sort through the stack of papers on my desk and kick myself for missing a submission deadline, vow to do it right, lose a few pounds, eat a lot less, move a little more. I take down the decorations, pack it all away until next year, and I whisper a prayer that we will all be together again next Christmas.

New Year's Eve we went out with another couple, dined and danced. I had fond recollections of years past, when Bill and I used to dance the night away, several times a week. We kicked up our heels a few times at this dance, but we complained that they were playing musuic for the younger generation, a sure sign of aging :)

New Year's Day we went to my stepdaughter's and we played cards with the adults and grandkids. It made me feel happy-sad. We are all getting older. The youngest grandkids are now all taller than me, some even tower over their grandpa. Their photo is on the side bar.


I feel old. Contented-old, not weary-old. Last year is gone, a collection of memories. We have been given a new year, a beginning. We are in a new phase in our old lives.

Today, hubby went out while I caught up on correspondence. I sat down on the couch and noticed something on the floor, a tiny seashell. Oh, how that gives me hope for spring and summer, for a beach vacation, although I can't complain about this mild winter. We are having two cold days with blustery winds, but it is going to be in the 50s again by midweek.

I saw a speck of red stuck down between the couch cushions. I pulled out a small ornament made from my son's thumbprint when he was eight years old. I sat in the quiet house. Still. I reminisced and hoped and prayed for us. For them. I am grateful. I am concerned for all of our children, for our grandchildren, and for all of the children of the world.

A little melancholy creeps over these tired old bones. This wrinkled face shows some wear, but I know deep in my heart that although I am only one person, I have made a difference ... in the lives of children, ours, theirs and other peoples' children.

I hear the back door open, such a welcome sound. Hubby says, "You want to go to lunch?"

I'm ready, and I'll be eating right, a spinach/chicken salad and oh, maybe a wee bit of banana pudding, just a taste, I promise!