I am perhaps the least photogenic person on this planet, so there are very few photos of me worth sharing. And, it’s not that I look particularly great in this photo, but it appears that someone is looking at me in an admiring manner.
Lest anyone think that was the case, let me reassure you that shortly after this was snapped my “admirer” asked politely if he could please cross in front of me to go to the restroom.
Yep, I have that effect on men.
Peace, People!
Daily Prompt: BYOB(ookworm) Write the blurb for the book jacket of the book you’d write if you only had the time and inclination.
Katniss Potter was just an ordinary orphaned wizard until she found herself deposited into a maze surrounded by talking trees who demanded she choose a faction or turn to the dark side of the force.
Follow Katniss and her faithful sidekick R2D2 as they navigate the perils of the maze and seek to learn the identity of her father.
Maybe this is a book better left inside my imagination.
Sometimes my dreams are so vivid and so weird I have to write them down.
Last night I dreamt that vampires were living among us. They attended sporting events and parent teacher conferences, did laundry and went for long walks. They did their best not to infect others, feeding selectively and carefully so as not to kill or turn humans. However, vampire nature being what it is, inevitably there were lapses and new vampires would be made. Everyone was aware of the danger, but life carried on.
In my dream I was a young girl with a younger sister. We lived with our parents and an aunt. My mother gave birth to a precious baby girl and she named her Felicity. Everyone cherished Felicity. She was precious in a time of unrest.
Soon after Felicity’s birth I was turned by a reckless vampire, and I turned the rest of the family sparing only Felicity. Our family guarded the baby night and day against any vampire who might attempt to take her. I was the only one who could actually hold the baby without feeling hunger, so she stayed with me constantly.
Now here’s where it got weird(er). My vampire family took a cross country trip in an old truck to watch a college baseball game. We arrived at the stadium and found our seats in the section reserved for vampires. I suppose none of the normal folks wanted to end up being snacked on during the seventh inning stretch.
Of course I was caring for Felicity, but the vampires around us noted her presence early on and began moving closer to our group. I knew if they ganged up on my family that we would surely lose our precious infant. I decided to take the baby to a neutral place–the concessions area, where she might be safer.
Seated on a bench near the hot dog stand I kept up with the game through the announcers over the stadium speakers and the roar of the crowd.
A normal man came and sat beside me and started asking questions about the nature of vampirism and how we expected to keep the baby safe. I wept. I told him I thought the task was both necessary and futile.
A group of hungry vampires approached and the man fought them off, sparing himself and the baby. That’s when I knew what I needed to do. I asked the man if he would take Felicity and care for her, if he would protect her from vampires. He gave me his solemn promise, and I knew Felicity would grow strong with him.
When I rejoined my family no one even asked about the baby.
I was going to ask for interpretation, but I think I’ve figured this one out. I’d love to hear your thoughts, though.
The Daily Prompt asked, “Do you like hot and spicy foods, or do you avoid them for fear of what tomorrow might bring?”
I like my food hot.
Spicy.
Gratuitous heat;
The kind of heat that
Makes me wipe the
Sweat from my
Brow as I eat.
Any residual suffering
For the sake of spiciness
Should be borne with
Stoicism and great
Quantities of
Pepto-Bismol.
A couple of days ago in the restroom at Whole Foods I noticed that the person in the stall next to me had on the same Sanuk sandals that I was wearing. So, of course, being the chatty person I am I said, “Hey! Nice sandals!” Silence ensued.
Well, what did I expect? What kind of person starts conversations between bathroom stalls? Only crazy people, right?
I finished my business and left my stall to wash my hands. The other person came out of theIr stall and gave me a shy smile. That’s when I realized that she was a he in transition. No wonder s(he) didn’t respond–probably didn’t want to freak me out, and for that I was grateful.
Now I’m an open-minded person, but even so I must admit that the presence of a man in the women’s bathroom caught me slightly off guard. I hope I didn’t let that show on my face.
We exchanged smiles, and I reiterated my admiration of our common good taste in sandals. “Oh,” she said, “Don’t you love how comfortable they are?”
I agreed wholeheartedly. She noted that we had similar toenail colors, a pretty coral. Awkwardness dissolved. 😊
She was not a beautiful woman, physically speaking. Her poor face showed the ravages of hormonal changes, no doubt brought on by painful injections. But, she was dressed in this crazy colorful, stylish dress and non-matching turban, and as we left the restroom, she walked slightly ahead of me–head held high, a wiggle in her walk, fierce.
And I thought, “Yes! You go girl!”
Peace, people!
Studly and I are going out tonight. It’s Trivia Night at his golf club. Normally I’d be chomping at the bit, but I’m a little draggy this evening.
I spent the morning sitting at a too small table in a too small chair working with adorably energetic two and three year olds. Then I spent the afternoon organizing my kitchen drawers. The goal was to create a bar space that looked organized and decorative. In the process I planned to also organize the infamous, ubiquitous junk drawer.
Somehow one junk drawer turned into three junk drawers, and I still have leftover junk.
I ask myself, “Do you really need nutcracking tools?” Well, in 38 years I’ve never actually used them, but who knows what tomorrow might bring?
I ask myself, “Why do you have six pairs of scissors, five rolls of packing tape, and 57 individually-wrapped toothpicks?” Probably in case of an impending toothpick shortage or a packing emergency.
I ask myself, “Why is there an undeveloped roll of film in this mess?” Mainly because we never develop our film. It must be against our religion or something.
At the end of my afternoon of organizational frenzy I am no more organized than I was when I began.
I ask myself, “What have you learned from this exercise?” Junk happens.
With any luck one of the trivia questions tonight will deal with the proper number of individually-wrapped toothpicks one should keep on hand. The answer: 57.
Peace people!
Among us walk men
Of a most serious bent
Earthlings quite earnest.
Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird.
There also are those
With more frivolous outlooks
Inclined to amuse.
Jim Varney in his role as Ernest T. Bass in Ernest Saves Christmas.
Such as this Ernest.
Who contrary to his name
Was anything but.
Every now and again I am struck by the need to create a work of art using my keen eye and able hands. On those occasions I’m usually walking through a Michael’s craft store with a couple of extra bucks in my pocket and a good case of amnesia.
Because no matter how often I purchase paints, or pencils, sketchbooks, or canvases, I am totally incapable of drawing anything more complex than a primary yellow sun with a happy face and straight rays poking out all around.
Yet I conveniently forget this simple fact over and over again.
There is something about a blank piece of paper that fills me with the burning desire to create. All that’s missing is a bit of talent.
Here’s my newest purchase: 
Notice the beautiful sketchbook? Oh, the possibilities!
Notice the color pencils? They are not sharpened, and I have no sharpener at home.
So, for at least tonight the sketchbook is safe from my fumbling attempts at creating art. I think I just heard a papery sigh of relief.
Peace, people!
Bottom of the
Ninth.
Pitcher’s team has a
One run lead.
He spits.
Sunflower seeds,
Shells fly,
On the mound
Surveys the bases
All around
Steps down and
Spits again.
Runners on
First and second.
No outs.
Top of the order.
No outs!!
Pitcher takes the
Mound.
Fire in his eyes.
Catcher signals 1,
Moves his glove
Low and inside.
Pitcher nods.
First pitch–
Batter tees off
Catches ball’s
Bottom, pops it
Straight up.
“Infield fly!”
Yells ump,
“Batter’s out!”
Ball dribbles to
Mound.
Pitcher catches
Runner off second,
Tags him
Trying to get to
Third.
Runner from first
Caught in rundown
Between one, three, and
Six.
Triple play
Saves the day.
Good game, good game!
Let’s go to Dairy Queen!
Studly and I coached Little League softball and baseball teams for many years. One of the most difficult aspects of the sport for kids to understand is the infield fly rule.
It took me awhile to understand it, too, but I think I’ve got it now:
If there are fewer than two outs with runners on first and second, or first, second, and third, and a fly ball is hit that can be fielded by a player in the infield, the batter is automatically out and runners advance at their own risk. Basically it’s protection for the runners, but try explaining that to an 8-year-old batter whose ball goes uncaught and is called “out!” Tears often ensue.
In the words of Tom Hanks,
Peace, People!
Everyone come home;
Home to our sweet Mother Earth.
She craves attention.
She nurtures us all
Gives without thought for her self
As all mothers do.
Happy Earth Day. Do something nice for our mother today.
Praying for Eyebrowz 