Up up and away

The monarchs are arriving. The brisk wind kept some of them at bay. They had to circle around the patio a few times before they could land on a flower. I am thrilled to think that we are providing food for these delicate creatures to make their long migration.

 

 

Hubby and I found a trail along the Mississippi River. At dusk we sat on a bench and watched barge traffic. The Midwest is a hub for commerce, and there was a lot of movement of goods.

A couple who were a few years younger than us, sat on another bench a few feet away. In our town, somebody always knows somebody who knows somebody. The guy worked with Bill's brother, and they knew our neighbor. Small world.

 

I am so hoping the rain holds off and I can take Liam to the Hot Air Balloon Glow tomorrow night at Forest Park. Lift off is Saturday, but on Friday evening, all of the balloons fire up. It is a sight to behold. Liam saw an inflatable advertising hot air balloon on top of a restaurant and got so excited. He thought it was a ball. And that is his favorite thing. Won't he be surprised, if the weather holds? I'll post pictures if we are able to attend.

 

 

Have you ever attended a balloon glow, or hot air balloon races? One year, when the kids were little, the balloons flew LOW over our house, and we could hear the conversations overhead.

The balloon glow was a bust. Wind gust and storms prevented the balloon owners from inflating their hot air balloons, but they did light up the night with fire lapping at the wind into the air. A big disappointment for many. Hopefully, the storms will hold off and the wind will lessen, and they will be able to lift off Saturday. Lots of people are looking forward to this annual event. But alas, Mother Nature is in charge.

There are fall festivals all over towe this weekend, so we will be out and about.

Treasures and blessings

I wrote and submitted eight stories this week, and so I took it easy today.

 

Hubby and I stopped by the goodwill store and found this little statue for $3.00 I placed these little sweet-faced children near the sedum, which is flowering and attracting insects. Not nearly as many bees as in the past though, which makes me sad.

 I spent the afternoon reading outside on the patio swing. The weather was absolutely perfect; a cool light breeze brought a taste of fall. The days are getting shorter, and I'll soon be snuggling under my new ultra soft blanket, as silky soft as our gentle kitty boy who loves to be petted and begs for treats.

 

 

 I gave thanks for my blessings: the last produce from our garden, for my health, my family, my life.

I am especially thankful for my great grandson Liam, who amazes me. He will be 15 months old this week. He raced me up the drive way, learned to raise his feet and coast back down. Oh did he giggle.
He is beginning to string words. "Bye-Bye, Nana. Hi, kitty cat." He's walking all over now... a little boy on the go.

When he wore himself out, we did a quiet activity. I sat him in a pan of uncooked pasta. He picked up a handful and rubbed it between his palms. He sat in that pan for 20 minutes picking up noodles and filling the containers. Didn't put one in his mouth. He so enjoyed this sensory activity. It really is the simple things in life that make me happy.

 

Remembering

Fourteen  years ago, I stood in my living room and cringed at the sight of the first plane hitting the tower. I thought, what an horrific accident. I felt terrible for the people on that plane, and for those in the World Trade Center building. I did not realize that the horror had only just begun.
I headed to school and turned on my car radio. Ilistened intently to the reports. Then, I heard that another plane had crashed.

No one was sure what was going on. Teachers were asking one another, "Did you
hear about the plane crashes in NY?" The gravity of the situation -America was under
attack- was like a collective punch in the gut. We all felt winded, worried, and wounded.

My preschool classroom was in the lower level of an inner city middle school. What I remember most is the panicked African American youth in the hall who shouted at me, "America is at
war!"

"Calm down," I said. "Don't jump to conclusions. Nobody knows for sure what's going on. This does not mean WAR."

He insisted he saw it on TV and that military jets were intercepting planes.

I walked into my classroom, made phone calls to my family and then stood in stunned silence as my preschool students went about their school day, unaffected by the attacks. I knew my students were okay. My aide was capable, so I left her in charge. I felt as though I HAD to do
something patriotic to relieve the mounting tension in the middle schoolstudents, although I was not in charge of any of them. I came up with an idea. I did not consult the principal or counselor. I cut 12 inch red, white and blue construction paper strips, like kids use to make paper chains at Christmas. I visited each classroom. I passed out a strip to each student and asked them to write what they were feeling at the moment about the tragedy; any fears, any words, anything would be acceptable. Some asked if they should sign it.
"If you want to," I said.

I collected the strips and rolled them into loops, then I stapled them to the bulletin
board in the cafeteria. I assembled more than two hundred of them into an American flag. I stood back and admired that "feeling flag". I read, "I am afraid." "I want to kick their asses." "Bomb them." "Why did this happen?" "What now?" "I want to go home."

I felt the same way. At lunch I observed students looking for their piece of that flag. I listened to them read their words aloud, giving voice to fears and feelings, owning their emotions.
I don't know if my action did any good. It just felt good to do SOMETHING.

I mentioned to my husband a couple of years after 9/11 that I felt as if the color had drained from America. I first noticed it on highways and parking lots. Most new cars were gray, beige or white. Emotions ran the gamut, people were depressed; everyone seemed blah and everything
seemed bland. Now, fourteen years later, I notice that there are so many red cars and trucks on the road. Color is returning to America. People are blue from being homeless, hungry, jobless and hopeless. The "haves" have more green, while the "have-nots" shrivel, their egos bruised, deep, purple. There is an underlying current that runs through the population as orange as a flame; fire rages in the gut of all who are suffering during this recession. We're desperately missing the color yellow, sunshine yellow, happy face yellow.

My plea to politicians at every level of government is do SOMETHING, reach across the aisle, the great divide and extend a hand. Come to some agreement and shake on it.

We must seek peace. There is too much violence in this world.

"I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony..." Remember that commercial where people of all colors, creeds, religions and ethnicities joined hands?

My heart aches for the victims, their families and all of us.

Oh my, a pie!

Bill's daughter, Michele, came to visit. She thanked her dad for taking her to the Father-Daughter Girl Scout event when she was a little girl.

Michele: "Remember I told you everyone had to bring a pie?"

Bill: "Yes, and I thought we were going to have them for dessert."

Michele: "And when we arrived, all the dads were standing side by side at a long table, each one with their pie in front of them."

Bill: "Uh-huh, and you bought my favorite pie, coconut cream."

Michele: "Yep, and when the troop leader said it was a pie eating contest, you were a good sport and dived head first into that solidly frozen coconut cream pie and tried to swallow that icy, lumpy bite. Remember?"

Bill: "THREE bites. How could I forget?"

Michele: "Hey Dad, when I went in to buy that pie, I almost got a frozen Mrs. Smith's apple pie."

Oh the joys of parenthood. And I know for a fact, Michele's and Robin's sweet daddy would do it all again...for any of the kids or grandkids. That's just who he is!

I am ashamed to tell you this

So, we went to a well known indie taco shop last evening for dinner. We always order the chicken quesadilla, but this time we decided to try the chicken fajita salad. Big mistake. Hubby ordered his with fire roasted tomato dressing and I ordered mine with avocado ranch. Our salads were way more than either of us needed, served in large silver mixing bowls. We laughed at the hot sauce on the table and then we sat there and ate every bite of our salads.

Today I woke with a cramping, gurgling gut. I went to the bathroom and the cat had to come nose around which didn't help my upset belly any.  "Errrr, gerrr, rnnnn."

"Quit purring and get!" I said.

It wasn't the cat. It happened again, "Unnnn, errrg, unn-unn."

I clutched my belly, afraid my intestinal distress was serious.

It settled down, and not ten seconds later, started up again.

I was ready to yell for my honey when I realized
it was the neighbor using his weed eater, and the sound was coming through the overhead bathroom vent.

What a relief!

 

He always tells it like it is.

When I'd heard the latest account of another car jacking, I got mad and said to my husband, "I think if that ever happened to me, I'd go ballistic and hit someone, and then I'd..."

Before I could finish, my honey said, "Babe, the spring has gone out of your chicken. You wouldn't bounce back."

I said, "What do you mean by that?"

He looked at me and said, "You do realize you are no spring chicken, don't you?"

Well that was a fine how do you do!

Is crime rampant where you live?

State it and don't debate it. A little gift for you.

I learned a valuable lesson today. I submitted a brief query to a high profile magazine editor. I stated that I had been successful in the anthology market, 22 Chicken Soup for the Soul books and many other publications. My article was about how I successfully discovered a way to get local media coverage for a book signing.

The editor replied that because CS does not pay residuals, the article would be of no value.

I wrote back that my article would not even mention CS. The topic was about how I obtained media coverage. I did not say it was for an anthology.

Editor's paraphrased reply: You used your technique to gain media coverage to promote a book you would get no further compensation for. Not interested.

Was this a result of lack of communication, a mutual misunderstanding, or one editor's opinion of anthology contributors? In any case, I hope I never get haughty.

Lesson learned: State your intent in the first sentence, because few editors have time to read on.

Most important writing tip: Always be kind.


Here's a calendar list of free contests. Hope you enter and win.

http://publishedtodeath.blogspot.com/p/free-contests.html