The kid got into my stash. And YOU could win a contest

 

I am an addict, and my great grandson got into my stash. Check out the results.

Three-year-old Alex spent the weekend. I discovered that he had discovered my coveted Dove dark chocolate, red foil-wrapped squares. "I like your candy," he said with a big messy grin. He needed his mouth and face wiped twice. 

He was so energetic he wanted to climb a tree. So when I saw my neighbor leave, I walked him to a tree in her yard that was perfect for his little hands. He expended a bit of that energy trying to figure out how to make the big climb.

If YOU are a chocolaholic, check out this fun, free, and rewarding contest at Jennifer Brown Bank's blog. Look around while you are there. She provides such good advice for writers. Please pass this on to your friends, too. Great prize package! New prize!!

http://penandprosper.blogspot.com/2020/10/im-sweet-on-chocolate-writing-contest.html

I discovered Jen years ago when I read her article in a writer's magazine about breaking all the rules. I knew we were kindred spirits, because as a new writer I, too had been breaking all the writing rules and having success. Never give up, no matter what you are trying to achieve.

Alex was high on life sitting in the branches of our red bud tree, feeling very successful and proud.

If you are a writer be proud of your successes, no matter how minor or insignificant you consider them. Pat your self on the back if you wrote a paragraph, a page or an essay. How about trying to write a poem about chocolate?

Our neighbor's tree was perfect for Alex to climb and pull himself up.

If you are a writer start at the bottom, work your way up... and never give up!

Paw-paw Bill gave  Alex a helping hand and supported him in his endeavors.
If you are a writer be sure to accept help along the way and express your appreciation. If you are further along, provide help to others. We writers really are all in this together. 

Now think about the sweet, creamy taste of milk chocolate, slightly bitter taste of dark chocolate, delightful crunch of M&Ms. Enter the contest. It's fun and it is a good writing exercise. 

Let me know if you enter or are a winner.

There is joy-joy-joy in my heart

I have missed my babies! I surprised them this weekend with a cake. Their mama is my first grandchild, and she was such a cute, smart, fun and funny honey. Now she and her husband have three cuties of their own. I baked a Halloween theme birthday cake for her with three little ghosts. 

Charlie is two and loved the cake, as you can see. He is talking up a storm these days. He has always called me Nana. But now he has decided I am Nanny and those yellow things he eats are nanas. He is all boy and has mosquito bites and scrapes all over his legs. He wanted me to kiss his boo-boos, all ten!

Alex is three and loved hammering golf tees into the pumpkin I brought. I also brought pop beads. Anyone of a certain age remember those? Now they call them something else and they come in all sorts of shapes. But Alex liked the round beads that fit over his head. He is a busy boy.

Liam is six and adjusting to his new reality of Covid-19 in school schedules and video schooling. 

After much resistance, he decided on his own to take off on his two wheeler. He had to show me
how good he is at riding his Razor scooter, too. Look at those legs in mid air! This boy is all arms and legs!

 My daughter was nineteen when her baby girl (the boys' mama) was born. I was with her during labor and delivery. On October 12th as midnight approached, I told the doctor if he didn't deliver her soon, I would forever call her Freddy or Jason (from the Halloween/horror movies, Friday the Thirteenth.) 

At one second after midnight she entered the world. A nurse recorded the birthdate: "October 13th," she shouted across the room.

The doctor looked at me. I shook my head. He shouted back, "It is not one minute after midnight. I'm calling her birthdate as midnight on October 12th." 

So technically... well you decide. The delivery room attendants debated it and in the end, the doctor won.

 

This young woman has given me so many laugh lines, and three delightful great grandsons. I love them ALL with all my heart.

They were watching a video of themselves playing, chasing each other and bike riding. 

Published in Prairie Times, in Beyer, Colorado (A glimpse into my life)

TOO MUCH TOGETHERNESS by Linda O'Connell

♦ My husband Bill retired a few years before I did. He had plenty of leisure time to himself while I was at school teaching small ones.  When I retired, my dreams of day trips, visiting museums, and hometown attractions soon got old and fizzled. Retirement was not as exciting as I imagined it would be. But every now and then, I get a good laugh and a thrill at Bill's expense. 

As my days became more relaxed and routine, I found I had more time to write, but less inclination to do so. When I was working, I used to rise before daybreak when the house was still, and the only sound Bill made was rhythmic snoring. I would write for two hours. When I no longer had to squeeze time in to write, I slept in. We spent an hour watching the news and sipping coffee instead of my rushing about and gulping on the run. We lost track of time, and the morning was gone before we knew it. I missed making time for my writing. 

Bill became not only my greatest companion, but my worst distraction. He would suggest a meal out, a shopping trip to the big box stores, or a trip to the mall on impulse. Maybe this is how he had spent his days for the past few years of his retirement, but I was used to order. He operated on a get-up-and-go-on-a-whim schedule. When we weren‘t on the go, we were in two different rooms engaged in separate activities. He has hearing aids, but unless he's leaving the house, he prefers shouting, ―What? when I speak, or he‘d rather blare the television volume. As I tried to write the thoughts in my head, I invariably wrote the words Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis, or John Wayne said. Watching TV wasn‘t the same. My evening sitcoms were nothing like his daytime viewing preferences. He likes action films, shoot-em ups, crime shows... and the noisy disruptions wore me out. 

When he watched his shows, I tried to write my stories. Even with the office door closed I could hear the TV in the living room blaring. There was continual grunting, groaning, a thwack, more grunting. My first thought was someone was getting beat up. His first choice of movie viewing is one with physical interaction, preferably a brawl. The loud, primal groaning continued. It sounded almost obscene. I would not listen to those groans another minute. I stormed into the living room to give my honey a piece of my mind, ask him how he expected me to write. Then I saw what was going on. He was watching a women‘s Wimbledon tennis match. Guilt-ridden, I looked at Venus Williams and felt terrible. I hadn‘t broken a sweat all day, I had eaten a waffle with whipped cream and strawberries for breakfast, and had been all set to nag my hard-of-hearing honey for watching such trash. Sometimes I laugh long and loud at myself. But I also can‘t help laughing at him, too. ―Look at her movements, I said. ―We're getting lazy. 

Guilt or the urge to get exercise struck him as he observed Venus sweating it out. He switched off the TV and suggested a jaunt around the mall for exercise. As we drove, I looked at my cell phone. ―Get this! I said from the passenger seat as we were driving down the highway. He does not wish to have a Facebook account and relies on me to read aloud something mind boggling, spell binding, or unbelievable from my feed. He raised his index finger to his right ear and tuned his hearing aid higher so he didn‘t miss a word. When I paused, he gave me a split-second glance and said, ―Who's that from? Who sent that to us?

 Is he serious? I've told him a million times, ―I don't know. He thinks I'm messing with him, withholding pertinent information. I told him ―It's just a friend. ―How can it be a friend if you don't know who it is? Instead of keeping the ball rolling I told him the name of who it was from. ―Who's that? he asked. ―I. Don't. Know. ―Well, they sent it to US. How do we know them? 

Through clenched teeth, I said. ―We DON'T know them. It's a friend of a friend. ―

Then why are they sending it to US? ―

It's on the WWW, I say. Before I could explain, world wide web, he said, ―When did you get into wrestling? Some days I want to put him in a headlock! We are striving for balance. Bill comes to my aid at a moment's notice to help me with the computer, and I share social media gossip with him. But that's as far as it goes when it comes to technology. He is not interested in social media, and I can't figure out which cloud my work lands on each day. 

Our relationship was new and exciting when we were young and active. Now that the Golden Years have arrived, our daily pace is slower, and life involves many unexpected laughs and goofy grins. I like this stage of life were in! 

One ringy dingy

 Do you still have a land line in your home, or are you totally dependent upon cell phones?

We have a land line, but we seldom answer our home phone. We allow the answering machine to pick up the calls. Typically the messages are from the pharmacy. Those times when we do answer the home phone, the calls are ususally someone telling us in a foreign accent they are our grandchild in need of money from a serious accident. We play along, then play GOTCHA!

Other times the calls are from Medicare insisting we accept the FREE support brace for our knees or back, which we do not require.

And the best ones are when Social Security or the IRS insists we are about to be arrested if we do not respond to their bogus attempts to access personal info.

I ANSWERED THE HOME PHONE YESTERDAY...

"Hello."

A male voice, sounded to be in 20s, mumbled something.

I asked, "What did you say?

He said, "Clock me out!"

I asked, "Who IS this?"

"This is Rick. Clock me out!"

"Sorry, you have the wrong number."

"No I don't. This is Rick. CLOCK. ME. OUT!"

"Okay." I said and hung up.

Rick is going to be sorry.

Many years ago my neighbor Rose received a phone call from her husband Ray at midday.

They made small talk and he asked her to pick up the clothes from the cleaners.

She said she would and she mentioned one of his buddies by name.

They conversed for fifteen minutes before she asked, "Who is this?!"

He responded, "Ray! Who is this?"

She replied, "Rose."

They were both married to the same named spouses.

THEN they realized they were talking to the right names but the wrong people.

A little Cat Nip

 This sassy cat talks more than any cat I've ever known. He mimicks us, he whines, he begs. And he has dozens of cat toys, but look at what he claimed as his prize, a piece of paper. He laid on it, rolled on it, scartched at it and was very content.

Sort of reminds me of my son when he was a little boy. He would receive lots of Christmas presents but preferred playing with the boxes.

Just goes to prove, you don't need fancy toys to make Sassy Boy happy.

When I reached over for it this evening, he nipped my arm. Well keep it then!

The Feelings Flag

 In commemoration of all the lives lost on 9/11/01

The Feelings Flag by Linda O'Connell

published in Chicken Soup for the Soul The Spirit of America, 2016

I stood in my living room and cringed at the sight of the first plane hitting the first of the Twin Towers. 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 turned on my car radio on my way to work and listened intently to the reports. Then, I heard that another plane had made impact.

I arrived at school a few minutes later. No one was quite 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 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 young man 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."

They insisted they saw it on TV and that military jets were intercepting other planes.

I walked into my classroom, and watched as my students went about their school day, unaware of the attacks, I knew they were okay. My aide was capable, so I left her in charge.

I felt compelled to do something patriotic to relieve the mounting tension and confusion the middle school students were feeling, although I was not in charge of any of them. I cut
twelve- inch by two-inch strips of red, white and blue construction paper into strips, the kinds  kids use to create paper chains. I did not consult the principal or counselor. I acted on impulse. I visited each classroom and intruded on each classroom teacher. I asked each if might have a moment, then I said, "Nobody knows exactly what is going on. We've all heard rumors and news reports. It's a frightening time for all of us."

 I passed out strips of paper to the students and asked them to write what they were feeling at the moment. Any fears, any words— anything would be acceptable. Some asked about spelling, and some asked if they should sign it.

"If you want to," I said.

I collected more than 200 strips and rolled them into  loops, then I stapled them to the bulletin board in the cafeteria. I read an outpouring of emotional comments. "I am afraid." "I want to kick their behinds." "Bomb them." "Why did this happen?" "What now?" "I want to go home."

I posted one after another, row after row, until an American flag took shape. Some of the comments were laced with misspelled words and profanity; some were smeared with tears. I did not censor. I stapled every single one. I stood back and admired that "feelings flag".

At lunch I stood against the wall and observed teens and preteens, who were usually destructive with bulletin board displays, as they searched for their piece of that flag. I listened to them read their words aloud, owning their emotions, giving voice to their fears and frustrations, initiating conversations.

On that horrible day, when America came under attack, I didn't know if my actions would do any good. It just felt good to do something. My friend Tammy said,

'With that spontaneous action, you gave children a voice when no one knew what to say."

The bulletin board flag stayed up for more than  a week. Then the strips began disappearing as individuals claimed their sections... and their feelings.

 

 

A rare sighting, a rare gift

Our bedroom window looks down upon our backyard bird feeder, bird bath, a variety of birds, two chipmunks, and a trio of young squirrels that excite Sassy Boy, our fat cat. He sits on the chest of drawers and meows at the critters and wags his tail. Yesterday I was petting him and looking out the window. I saw a sight to behold, a pure white hummingbird. I did not take this picture. In fact I didn't have my cell phone with me at 8:28 a.m. But I will always remember the gift I received. Of all the people in the world, I saw a white hummer. They are very rare.

 It flew into my neighbor's yellow Canna Lily. Incidentally, these were my late best friend Sheila's favorite flower. It was almost like a gift from beyond. I feel so honored to have been privy to this oddity of nature.

Ah, there are changes coming. I feel it in the air, in the shortening days. Our hummingbird feeder has had three frequent flyers. I remember when we went to Mexico one year. I could not believe how many hummingbirds were at rest on a lush bush. I wasn't aware that they sit still for long periods. Their wings flap so rapidly; I thought they were always in motion.

Just think they have to load up on sugar and nectar to make their imminent long journey south, across the gulf waters, all the way to Mexico. Nature is amazing!

The ruby throated green one, and the brown one, and the mottled one are not afraid of us sitting outside, but they fuss at one another. I am hoping to see that white hummer again. I have my cell phone next to me now when I sit outside and read. I hope I can get a photo.

What have you noticed lately about nature?