Words packed together
Like so many canned sardines
Every image counts
I ramble ‘round, though
A hop scotching, dream seeker
Angling for a point
Compare and contrast
The tight writer and the mess
Focused or fuddled
Tight Writing
Month: July 2020
Oh, No!
Might be the world’s greatest headline.
Peace and nuts, people!
Tell Me Something Good
This pandemic is rotten, and it’s not going away anytime soon. I’m prone to dwelling on the heartaches. “There’s a Tear in My Beer” could’ve been my theme song, except it’d be a pity to water down a good beer.
Yesterday I was feeling low. Not depressed, just low. And then I made myself think of ordinary day-to-day good things about life right now, things that might NOT have come about had it not been for Covid-19.
One of the best is a group on Facebook called “Tallahassee Foodies.” It was started by a woman who wanted to call attention to good, locally owned eateries. It’s an overwhelmingly positive place for members to ask about specific types of foods available and to share information.
Here are a couple of sample posts from the site:
“This page makes my heart swell when I see it supporting people who need it (fried Oreos, peterbrooke) especially during these hard times of closure, lower capacity, etc.
SO… If you own or know of a good business that is struggling to survive right now, please list them below so we can help them.
So many restaurant, franchise, and bar owners put it all on the line to start their businesses, I want to do my tiny part to help…
Thanks!”
“Y’all. This is probably 5000 Weight Watchers points, but I’ll eat soup the rest of the day so I can eat this. Bacon jam, avocado, and egg melt (added tomato)! Look at those layers of deliciousness! First time I’ve had bacon jam. It had a little kick and now I have to figure out how it’s made.”
I absolutely love this site and all the good vibes the members are putting out. Any negativity gets shut down quickly. It’s a happy place for me.
What’s happening in your world that’s positive? Something that might only exist because of COVID? Maybe you’ve taken on a role that you’d never considered playing before. Tell me something good.
Peace, people!
Writing, Singing, and Crying
Lately when I write I’ve asked Alexa to play seventies music. Some days she selects pop, other days, country, and still others, folk. I can’t decide which genre I enjoy the most, but I do have some favorites: Bob Seger, Gordon Lightfoot, Linda Ronstadt, the Eagles, among others.
When Studly Doright chooses a station he always picks sixties music, and while I enjoy that decade’s offerings, there’s something about the 70’s tunes that speaks to me. Maybe it’s because I graduated high school in ‘75, and married Studly in ‘76. In the space of a year I went from childhood to adulthood with seventies music playing in the background.
The 63-year-old me often finds herself crying during certain songs. Today, John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High had me blubbering at my computer, and not long after that I completely lost it over Michael Martin Murphey’s Wildfire.
Am I mourning the loss of my youth? Surely not. That’s been gone for at least three decades. How about my close proximity to death. Naw. I’ve made my peace with the world.
Maybe it’s bigger than that. Maybe it’s the loss of our nation’s soul that’s gotten to me, and these songs remind me of a time that seemed so much simpler. Oh, I know the 70’s had their issues. They weren’t rosy by any means, but I was young enough to believe everything would turn out fine.
Now, I’m not so certain.
Peace, people.
Trying to Think
I sat down at the computer today intent on adding a few words to my new work in progress. My morning tea was steaming in a favorite cup beside me on the table where I work. My yummy Metamucil cinnamon flavored fiber crackers (I’m 63, you know) were arranged tastefully on a colorful plate. Let the words flow!
Instead, they trickled. Oh, there were a few bon mots exchanged between my main characters, but nothing that really drives the story. After a couple of frustrating hours I called it a day and tackled the laundry instead.
Perhaps I’ll have a glass of wine this evening and write something. Anything! But so far today I feel like the Three Stooges’ Curly who famously said, “I’m trying to think, but nothing happens!”
Peace, people!
And Now We Give You Brain-eating Amoeba!
If 2020 were a football player it would have been kicked out of the game for multiple unnecessary roughness penalties.
Pandemic, murder hornets, visiting dust from Africa, wide-spread social unrest, rampant unemployment, a new swine flu in the news, Tom Brady traded to Tampa Bay, and now we have a brain-eating amoeba. WTF?
To be fair, the brain-eating amoeba isn’t a completely new hazard, and can be avoided by following a few simple activities, according to the CDC: Avoid putting your head under the water in hot springs and other untreated thermal waters. Avoid water-related activities in warm freshwater during periods of high water temperature. Avoid digging in, or stirring up, the sediment while taking part in water-related activities in shallow, warm freshwater areas.
Oh, and if you use a Neti-pot to clear your sinuses use distilled water.
As for all the other stuff 2020 has brought us, keep wearing masks, avoid stirring up hornets, be kind to one another, don’t give up, and hope for a Tom Brady sighting. He is in Florida now, after all.
Peace, People!
.
Yes, Please
eBay or Goodwill
Last week we had new carpet installed here at Doright Manor. In preparation for the arrival of the carpet layers I had to clean all of the stuff from the closet floors. Simple enough.
Finally I’d moved everything that might be in the way of the workmen into the seldom used living room and decided this afforded me the perfect excuse to assess every item, Marie Kondo style, to see if any joy was sparked before putting anything back in its old storage place.
After nearly a week of sorting through the odds and ends I’ve come to believe that joy is relative. Just because something doesn’t spark joy today doesn’t mean it won’t tomorrow. I’m hopeless.
That’s not to say I haven’t decided to get rid of a few things, but the manner in which they’re to be disposed of is giving me a few headaches.
I’m an avid Star Wars fan, and have collected dozens of action figures, plush toys, calendars, mugs, and silly promotional items over the years. But they aren’t being displayed. Instead, they’ve just been sitting and collecting dust. I did list a couple of items on eBay:
So far, I have one bid on Max and no bites on Yoda yet, even though he’s priced dirt cheap, and is in slightly better shape than Max. I’ll end up losing money on both items, but at least someone will get some joy out of them. And I’ll likely cry when they’re gone.
One of my problems in purging stuff is deciding if if an item should be tossed, sold, or donated. Actually, the tossing is fairly straightforward. Some things don’t deserve a second chance like the chewed up, stuffing-less cat toy I discovered in a box of clothes. But also in that box was this:
This deep pink (I stress “deep” and not “hot”) pleather suit was my grandmother’s in the 80’s. Yes, my grandmother’s, and she looked gorgeous in it. I can’t remember why she gave the suit to me, but she must’ve been in her 70’s at the time and told me then that she was keeping the matching trousers because she’d still wear them. I just love that.
I wore the ensemble once many years ago to a party, but it wasn’t “me” for a number of reasons, and now the size ten is a tad too small. Plus, it still isn’t “me.”
BUT, should I send it straight to Goodwill or might someone browsing on eBay see it and say, “My goodness! I MUST have that deep pink suit!” This is my dilemma.
I think I’ll ruminate a while longer, and honestly that suit isn’t taking up too much closet space, right?
Peace, people.
Subdued Fourth
Today we celebrated Independence Day here in the United States. Celebrated might be an overstatement in my case. I napped, having been unable to sleep last night. I did wear my special flag t-shirt most of the day, though.
Then, while Studly Doright and I were cooking our dinner of vegetable kabobs and fruit salad, I managed to get cooking oil all over the front of my shirt. I might’ve said, “Yankee Doodle Dammit!” Or something similarly patriotic as a result.
We’ll likely spend our evening watching “Shameless” on Netflix while listening to our neighbors across the lake shoot off fireworks. Is it wrong for me to hope a predicted thunderstorm might keep the ruckus to a minimum tonight? It’s not as if they have any children.
Suddenly I feel like the Scrooge of July 4th. Bah firecracker!
Peace, people.
My New Ride
Doright Manor is located in a hilly rural housing development about eight miles outside of Tallahassee, Florida. And when I say “hilly” I am not exaggerating. For as long as we’ve lived here we’ve talked about riding our bikes around the neighborhood. But that’s as far as we ever got to doing it. We could ride about a quarter of a mile and that was it.
Then my brother, Kelly, and his wife, Susan, stayed with us on their journey to Fort Meyers, Florida, and they left some items with us to be picked up when they passed through Tallahassee later in the week. Among those items was a pair of e-assist bikes. They told us to try them out, and we did. They were great fun. We could pedal for awhile and then take a break by using the battery power.
Studly Doright immediately began researching e-assist bikes and soon had one ordered for me.
Voila!
Pretty cool, right? He’s now looking for a conversion kit for his bike. Until then, I might share.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 