Author: nananoyz

I'm a semi-retired crazy person with one husband and two cats.

No One Spoke

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Stuart M. Perkins's avatarStoryshucker

Friends and I enjoyed sun, sand, and surf with other beachgoers on a recent Saturday. Sitting slathered in sticky sunscreen beneath our umbrellas, we pointlessly brushed sand from our legs as we discussed evening plans. The seagulls overhead laughed louder than the swimmers splashing in nearby waves while those of us on the beach napped, read, or simply watched people. My friends discussed how relaxing it was and how nice it would be to sleep late the next morning.

Sleep late? I mentioned to them that we only get so many sunrises in a lifetime. Shouldn’t we get up to look at a few?

They stared blankly for a second then shook their heads in unison. No.

In the wee hours of the next morning, alone in the dark, I started the short walk from house to beach guided only by dim lights above the boardwalk. It was eerily quiet at…

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Congressional Correspondence

I try to keep my blog free of political topics; although, occasionally I get a bee in my bonnet and have to let the darned thing out before it stings my delicate pate. And truly, this isn’t a political post as much as it is an observational one.

The age of electronic communication is still amazing. I remember purchasing air mail stamps so that correspondence might reach its intended destination in a couple of days rather than a week. 

When I email my congressional representatives these days I receive an almost immediate response. Granted, it’s a form letter, but at least I know that someone in his/her office noted that a constituent felt strongly enough about an issue to make public their stand.

I seriously doubt that Senator Rubio will heed my plea, whatever it might have been. I haven’t the money or the political pull to sway his thinking. That’s the cynic in me. However, the eternally optimistic side of my brain thinks, maybe, just maybe, he’ll read my words and a lightbulb will appear over his head, or he’ll be moved to tears by my story and say, 

“Yes! I don’t need the support of powerful corporations and their money anymore! I don’t need to be beholden to the far right. I’m going to seriously consider the words of Nana Noyz!”

And pigs shall fly.

 
Peace, people!

Tears as Prayer

i pray,
Father, forgive me for my sins.
i pray,
Father, thank you for these blessings.
i pray,
Father, let me be my best self today.
i pray,
Father, please protect the ones i love.
i pray,
Father, guide us through these times.
i pray,
Father, my words are inadequate.
i pray,
Father, my tears will say what i cannot.
i pray,
Father, I ask these things in the name of Jesus Christ, your son.
amen.

  

Kitten Cuddler

My weekdays have become boringly predictable:

Rise, eat, blog, cruise Facebook, send a positive message to President Obama on Twitter, eat, do some chores, blog, cruise Facebook, check email, help Studly Doright build stuff in his new shop, eat, watch Ray Donovan or True Detective while enjoying a glass of wine, read in bed, try to sleep, have a hot flash, get up, change p.j.s, go back to bed, sleep, repeat.

Hopefully tomorrow my life will change. I have an interview at the Animal Services Center in Tallahassee to become, wait for it, a volunteer Kitten Cuddler! I have mad skills in this area, and I hope the volunteer coordinator recognizes this.

Often during interviews I provide way too much information. The question, “could you tell us a little about yourself?” often begins innocently enough with me giving my work experience and somewhere towards the end with a recounting of my first sexual experience. Awkward!

It’s as if my mouth and brain are waging a battle and my mouth has the upper hand. My brain begins saying, “Shut up! Just shut the hell up!” While my mouth keeps spewing my life’s history.

Keep me in your thoughts tomorrow. And if you’ve got any skill in telekinesis, please put a seal on my lips.

Peace, people.

  

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.

 

The Swilcan Burn Bridge is perhaps the most famous of golf icons.
 
 
One of my favorite winners of the British Open, Nick Faldo poses with the claret jug.
 

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!