People, you MUST read this. Then check out more of this gentleman’s work at robertokaji.com.
Month: July 2015
Cavity
i was chatting
with a friend
then glanced
down at my wrist
oh dear, i sighed,
look at the time
“i must go and have my
cavity filled.”
at her startled look
I wondered
what i’d just said,
then giggling,
my face turning red
added, “at the dental
office.”
Little Troll
i found a little troll today
angry as could be
on facebook he attacked
my views
without even knowing me.
i let him spew his venom
calmy held my own
then chained him underneath
his bridge
where all good trolls belong.
Well, I blocked the obnoxious little twerp, which is almost the same thing.
Peace, people!
No Immortality
I haven’t responded to a Daily Prompt in over a month, but I thought this one: Finite Creatures: At what age did you realize you weren’t immortal? was thought-provoking.
As a small child, between the ages of three and five, my family and I lived in a series of rental homes. Dad hadn’t yet been elevated to the position of Piggly Wiggly manager, and Mom was a stay-at-home parent, as far as I can recall. At any rate, she was at home the day I came running in the front door crying my eyes out.
“Mommy! I’m going to die!”
“No you aren’t sweetheart!” she said, hugging me.
“Yes, I am _________________ said I was going to die and Mr. Bugs is going to die and you and Daddy are going to die.” I hiccuped between sobs.
I remember Mom sighing. I know now that sigh meant, “That little brat _______________! Now I have to explain death to my baby.”
My mother was very good at explaining tough things, much better than I ever was. She sat and cradled me in her lap and said that _________________ was right, that everyone dies.
“Even dogs?” I whispered, hoping Mr. Bugs was immune.
“Yes, but Mr. Bugs is a puppy,” she said. “He’s going to live a long time. And you’re just a little girl. You’re going to live a long time, too.”
Of course then I had a bunch of little girl questions:
“Does it hurt to die?”
“What happens when we die?”
“Why do people and dogs die?”
“Will you and Daddy die?”
Mom answered my questions that day as best she could and for many days after. I became obsessed with death.
I believe this is why I never had that feeling of immortality that most kids and teenagers experience. I never was a daredevil, never a rebel. Caution was my middle name. Death my dread.
We were Christians and the promise of eternal life was always there, but I sure didn’t want to lose this one. I remember vividly _____________________ sitting in his swing, calmly informing me I was going to die. I don’t remember his name, but I’m blaming him for dampening my youthful exuberance.
Stupidhead bunnyfart ___________________!
Peace, people!
Blame the British Open
My Monday has been a most unproductive day. Laundry has gone undone, dishes have been ignored. Heck, I haven’t even showered yet! I blame it all on the British Open. Normally it would have been over and done with yesterday, but rain delays messed with the schedule.
The final groups should be finishing their rounds soon, so I might be able to at least shower and make the bed before Studly Doright gets home from work this afternoon. Except, the leaders’ scores are tight and there is a very real danger of a playoff!
Thank goodness Studly is a golfer and won’t think ill of me for watching the Open all day. In fact, he’ll probably high five me.
Walking St. Andrews
on golf’s
most hallowed ground
men strive for the
claret jug
battling nature’s
elements
and unimaginable
pressures.
accompanied by
ghosts of
Bobby Jones and
Tom Morris,
wide-eyed
amateurs and
stone cold
professionals
stride historic
fairways on their
way to cross
Swilcan Burn Bridge
at St. Andrews
hoping finally
to lift
the jug
joining the most
elite of
fraternities.
Contemplating Pizza
When I graduated from high school in 1975 I weighed a whopping 115 lbs. At 5’8″ I was one skinny chick. I was also fairly shy and unassuming.
Forty years later I’m proud to say, I’m still 5’8″ tall. Yep, I’m pretty proud of that. Plus I can still wear the same earrings that fit me back then, not to brag or anything.
On a day to day basis I don’t give my weight much thought, but in late October the group of people I went to school with in Floydada, Texas, is having its 40 year reunion. I’m pretty sure I can’t get down to 110 (or 120 or 130 or…), but it’d be nice to lose 10 pounds or so.
I probably should start working on that right away. Or maybe I’ll have another slice of pizza.
Oh, I’m not that shy and unassuming anymore either.
Peace, people!
Stars and Gripes
it isn’t easy being red,
white, and blue
sometimes we’re a target
other times we’re ridiculed
and now that we are growing
outside of old constraints
many of our own folks are
lodging new complaints.
they say we’ve wandered,
become too secular
but our founding fathers
were quite particular
refusing even then to
name a national faith
knowing well the tyranny
that lay along that path.
for if we honor only
Christian ideals
on government buildings
and official seals
then how can we expect
those of other creeds
to be willing taxpayers
when we ignore their needs?
Peace, people!
Everything Goes Better with Coke
One of Studly Doright’s coworkers, Mr. Z, found this beautiful piece of rusty history on Craigslist.
The asking price was $1100. Mr. Z really wanted it, but didn’t have anyplace to put it. Mr. Z decided Studly needed it for his new shop.
“No way!” said Studly. “I can buy a small fridge for $400.”
A couple of weeks later Mr. Z told Studly the seller had come down to $600, but Studly remained steadfast.
Mr. Z remained in contact with the seller who was becoming more anxious to sell the machine. Finally he agreed to Studly’s price, and we are now the owners of a 1961 model Vendo56 Coca Cola machine.
I can’t wait to stock it with Summer Shandy and Blue Moon!
To Drive or To Fly?
To say I am a logistics dunce is an understatement. Creating schedules, arriving at informed decisions around dates and times, brings on a headache every time.
I stand in awe of those who fit together master schedules for schools, making sure each child in every class in every grade gets the required amount of time for the core subjects as well as physical education, music, library, and art, and builds in time for lunch and a recess as well. I’ve watched the process and trust me, it’s incredibly difficult. Never did I complain about scheduling lest someone hand the job over to me.
But I digress. My current problem is trying to figure out whether it’s more cost efficient to drive or to fly to my daughter’s home in Illinois. If I were working it’d be a no-brainer. I’d need to fly to cut down on lost time at work. But, that’s not an issue.
Help me figure this out:
Flights: The lowest priced flights start at $456, but they have multiple connections. I hate multiple connections.
Driving: The distance from Havana, FL, to Rapid City, IL, is 1004.6 miles. Let’s call it an even grand.
My car averages 27 miles per gallon.
Studly and I used all of our hotel points on our last vacation, and I’ll need to stay two nights on the road. Let’s say I’ll spend about $120 per night.
If I choose my meals carefully I can eat for an average of $10 per meal. If I eat 10 meals on the road that’s $100. Let’s add in some snacks and call it $130.
Have I left anything out?
There’s no prize for figuring out my best option, and I’ll most likely do what I want anyway, but if this stuff turns you on, go for it!
Peace, people!
Why I Write
I came across this on a friend’s Facebook page this morning and thought, “YES!”
How often have I heard, “Oh you write a blog. Do you make any money?” Or, after reading one of my blog posts, “You should be a writer!”
Well, I am. Just because I don’t have a book deal doesn’t mean I’m not a writer.
I wouldn’t know how to go about being a published author any more than I know about performing heart surgery. I don’t write to be published. I write to rescue that abandoned puppy. Sometimes I am that puppy.
And I don’t perform open heart surgery because people would die. As far as I know, my writing hasn’t killed a single person. This week, anyway.
Praying for Eyebrowz 