Friday, March 29, 2019
1:50 p.m.
It's Friday again. Wow! It's also snowing again! Not so wow. I am ready for Spring to come and stay. I want to see some green grass and flowers, even if I sneeze and wheeze.
So, I have been thinking. No, no, don't be scared! It's what I do here, after all.
I retired early, due to illness. And I can't regret it, since I'd probably have ended up more ill than I could have recovered from if I hadn't stopped working when I did. No, not even probably--I would have. The damage to my lungs can't be disputed, as much as I would like to deny it. So, disability. Yay! (waves tiny white flag while fake-smiling)
It's not all bad, of course. I have time to write. And I am able to come and go, which is great when you have aging parents who need some TLC.
But the days kind of run into each other. Same old, same old. And when it's cold, it's worse. Once we can get out more, it will be nice.
Speaking of same old, I have been so blah with food lately that I can't come up with good but different things to eat. No one is complaining--I feed them well--but why aren't they bored? They can pretty much have anything, which is good. Maybe I just think I'm a boring cook because I really can't eat much of what I make for them right now. My diet really is a boring drag.
It's snowing, so grilled cheese and tomato soup. And I will probably bake some cookies.
See? Exciting, right? But pretty yummy, I suppose.
There are foods that I have always considered cold, snowy day foods. Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup are high on that list. The others are beef stew, ham and beans with cornbread, and chili.
Oh, now I really want a big bowl of chili with onions and cheese, but--ouch! That's not happening. All I could have of that is the crackers on the side!
It's weird how I get a little obsessed with food when my stomach can't tolerate it. It's sort of like being on a diet, and wanting all the candy in the world just because you promised yourself you'd lay off it.
A couple of days ago I wrote a scene in a current work in progress. It features an event with a large gathering of people and lots of different foods, and I was actually salivating thinking of summer sausage and baked beans and coleslaw.
Now, it has been ages since I could eat coleslaw, and I don't do well with most meat, either. But there are times when all you want is steak, and I will order that in a restaurant every once in a while. A six ounce steak can last me three days! Yummy, yum!
There are also days when nothing but a juicy hamburger with all the trimmings will do. I am still dumb enough to risk it from time to time, and they are so good. We're not talking a Big Mac, here.
I mean a grilled burger from a good restaurant or one made right at home. Cheese and avocado, tomato and onion--yum! That's pretty much the only thing I'd be able to eat all day, and the next day would be Popsicles and apple juice, but... sometimes, I just do it.
I pay for it, but I do it. It hasn't killed me yet, but it has made me wish for an unconscious state on a few occasions.
Yesterday, I had cottage cheese, so I figured I might be okay with today's lunch plan.
I think the grilled cheese was okay. But--
The tomato soup is making itself known right now. Ow. There might not be enough omeprazole in the house for this fire. Water, water, water!
I still want the chili. And the steak. And the hamburger.
But, not today.
Dinner will be water, water, water. And maybe a Popsicle. Exciting stuff, indeed.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Ow. Ow. Ouch! Dummy. No more tomato soup for you.
But, I like tomato soup! And...it's soup!!
Have a glass of milk and shut up, dummy.
Okay...
_________________________________________________________________________________
4:41 p.m.
It's still snowing, and the wind has picked up a bit, but so far it has been warm enough that the sidewalks and streets are only wet. Sundown is coming, though, so I hope it stops soon.
You know, even though I am tired of winter, I still can't help standing at the window and watching the snow fall. It's pretty. I can't deny it. It looks like lace against the sky, and the fir trees in front of the house look like they're covered in white blossoms.
Molly's not fussed, though. She finally had a big expanse of grassy yard to play in, and it's all buried in the white stuff again. She gave me quite the baleful look this morning when I put her out. I assured her that it wasn't my fault, but she doesn't seem convinced, even now. She heaved quite a sigh a few minutes ago when I let her out the door.
I swear, she's a dog. But--wow! She's the most human dog I've ever been around.
I don't blame her for being a bit put out. She was pretty happy to be able to find every fallen branch and gnarl of bark and try dragging it inside to chew up. Now it's all under snow again. Poor pup.
Not poor me, though. I get a reprieve from chasing her down before she makes a mess all over the floor. I don't get that dog--she'd rather try eating a tree branch or a wad of paper than eat her own food. What's up with that?
_________________________________________________________________________________
I asked a question on Facebook a couple of days ago about the good old days in my hometown. Kids here used to go to Keggers--drinking parties--on the weekends. I had questions, because an upcoming scene in my work in progress will involve my main character needing to go to one for reasons.
I never went to one--I am nearly positive I was never even invited to one, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have gone even then. I was never one for crowds, and never one for going into the great outdoors where I might run into something that would cause an allergic reaction of some sort. In short, I was a chicken.
For the record, although my main character is NOT me, she has some of the same issues. Allergies and an innate need to be on the sidelines, rather than in the middle of the action, whatever that might be.
Anyway, never having been to one of these outdoor parties--or any of the indoor winter parties that took place, for that matter-- I needed some insight. Who, what, when, where, why and how. That's how you tell the story, right?
I was surprised at the number of responses, and more surprised by some of the comments. I probably won't use some of the more notorious stories, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that I no longer view this town through the rose-colored lenses of nostalgia I once did.
Sorry I asked? Nah. But, wow! I was a sheltered child, I guess.
Well, in regards to partying, I was. There were things I did know about, and not all of them were wonderful and warm, but that's not part of the narrative in this upcoming scene.
________________________________________________________________________________
5:49 p.m.
Well, I have a book review half written that I need to finish, and another book to finish and review, so I am going to say farewell for now.
Sun is westering, and it's still snowing, so if you have to be out in this snow, please be safe!
Until we meet again-- Smile!
Friday, March 29, 2019
Thursday, March 28, 2019
Thursday, March 28, 2019
6:52 p.m.
Oh, whoopee! Another storm is coming in. I guess March has to go out like a lion.
Wait. Didn't March come IN like a lion?
Hmmm. This may require some investigation.
Yeah, I'll get right on that. Sure thing.
__________________________________________________________________________________
7:32 p.m.
It's hard to type with a dog on your boob. Just sayin'.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Ah! Molly has moved on. She's barking in the kitchen, which probably means that the next round of in-and-out is about to commence.
Did I mention my theory that dogs are really just four-legged toddlers?
If I could just train her to shut the door when she comes back in, we'd save a ton of time and I might actually get something done around here.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I think I'm about to get back on a liquid diet for a few days. Food and I are not getting along at all. Ow!
I'll see my doctor in May when I go home. Dentist, too. Whoo hoo. In the meantime, everything I eat is an experiment. I may end up on tuna, cottage cheese and saltines. Sounds delicious, right? But they don't make me want to cry, so there's that.
_________________________________________________________________________________
There are a lot of people participating in Lent right now, and giving up something they enjoy for 40 days. I haven't done anything like that in years-- I'm not a practicing...er… anything, these days. Like Fox Mulder, I WANT to believe. Like Dana Scully, I'm skeptical. But I did have hope that some people might give up being hateful and spiteful and selfish for Lent this year.
Nope.
I remember a song we used to sing in church when I was a kid. "And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, they will know we are Christians by our love."
I wish.
________________________________________________________________________________
I'm more and more inclined to believe a storm is coming, because Molly is going nuts today, and I hurt like I've been hit by a truck.
I hope we're both wrong. I am over snow. WAY over.
________________________________________________________________________________
I'm not thinking much today, apparently. Maybe tomorrow. Have a good night!
(With no snow!)
Ta ta!
6:52 p.m.
Oh, whoopee! Another storm is coming in. I guess March has to go out like a lion.
Wait. Didn't March come IN like a lion?
Hmmm. This may require some investigation.
Yeah, I'll get right on that. Sure thing.
__________________________________________________________________________________
7:32 p.m.
It's hard to type with a dog on your boob. Just sayin'.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Ah! Molly has moved on. She's barking in the kitchen, which probably means that the next round of in-and-out is about to commence.
Did I mention my theory that dogs are really just four-legged toddlers?
If I could just train her to shut the door when she comes back in, we'd save a ton of time and I might actually get something done around here.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I think I'm about to get back on a liquid diet for a few days. Food and I are not getting along at all. Ow!
I'll see my doctor in May when I go home. Dentist, too. Whoo hoo. In the meantime, everything I eat is an experiment. I may end up on tuna, cottage cheese and saltines. Sounds delicious, right? But they don't make me want to cry, so there's that.
_________________________________________________________________________________
There are a lot of people participating in Lent right now, and giving up something they enjoy for 40 days. I haven't done anything like that in years-- I'm not a practicing...er… anything, these days. Like Fox Mulder, I WANT to believe. Like Dana Scully, I'm skeptical. But I did have hope that some people might give up being hateful and spiteful and selfish for Lent this year.
Nope.
I remember a song we used to sing in church when I was a kid. "And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, they will know we are Christians by our love."
I wish.
________________________________________________________________________________
I'm more and more inclined to believe a storm is coming, because Molly is going nuts today, and I hurt like I've been hit by a truck.
I hope we're both wrong. I am over snow. WAY over.
________________________________________________________________________________
I'm not thinking much today, apparently. Maybe tomorrow. Have a good night!
(With no snow!)
Ta ta!
Monday, March 25, 2019
Monday, March 25, 2019
1:16 p.m.
You can't get into Heaven with someone else's dog.
Yep. Lessons learned from dreams. So weird.
I crawled back into my bed this morning after taking the dog out. I was cold. I didn't want to be up yet; I just wanted to lie in bed, toasty warm.
About the time I decided to get up, because I was never going to fall asleep, I...fell asleep!
And, holy cow, such a weird dream ensued.
Molly and I came upstairs and found a big black dog with a white star on his forehead sitting in the kitchen. Never saw him before in my life. But-- "Hi, Scout," I said. "How'd the surgery go?"
He was on a leash, but there were no bandages or anything, so... I don't know. He wasn't able to follow us to the living room, though, and that's where we went next.
Mom and Dad were sitting in their chairs, watching television. I sat down, and a black dachshund jumped up into my lap and squirmed her way next to Molly. I started petting her like this was nothing unusual, although, like the dog in the kitchen, I'd never seen her before.
She was soon joined by two more dogs, a black and white border Collie and a brown something or other with a tail that spun like a propeller with his joy. Within seconds, Scout joined us all, dragging his leash.
None of us seemed at all surprised with this abundance of dogs in the house.
None of us were surprised when my son appeared at the door, ready to take me somewhere, along with all six dogs. Mom and Dad greeted Sam much as if they saw him every day, rather than once every year or so, and waved us all out the door.
At the curb: one hellacious motor home. That thing was gigantic! We loaded the dogs and I took the passenger seat, a comfy captain's seat that swiveled 360 degrees. Wow!
I turned, expecting to see my daughter-in-law, but instead, there was an old classmate of mine, Tina, and several more dogs.
Wherever we were off to, it had something to do with all the dogs. We drove down the street, turned onto Cedar, and...
… now, we were on crowded city streets. People walking to and fro, lots of traffic. I looked to my left as the motor home took a lurching left-turn at a traffic light, and--my daughter was behind the wheel!
What the hell?
""Oh, crap!" she cried, as she straightened the vehicle. "There's a cop behind me! I hope he didn't follow me all the way from Grandpa's!"
"Where are we?" I demanded. Molly was clinging to me like a little monkey.
Suddenly, a little black Chihuahua darted out in front of us, dragging a thick red leash. Sarah slammed on the brakes and swerved, just missing her. "Was that Molly?" she shrieked.
"Molly's right here," I said, trying to pry the dog off my neck. "Pull over!"
She parked the vehicle and I leaped out the door to catch the little dog before she could be hit by a car. Molly jumped out of my arms. "Molly!" I yelled. "Get back here! Are you crazy?"
Wonder of wonders, she came right to me, and let me pick her up. The other chihuahua followed and also allowed me to pick her up.
I stood up and looked around, hoping to see someone looking for this little girl. People were hustling through the street in all directions, but no one seemed to be searching for a missing pup.
I turned and noticed a tall building with a crookedly hung wooden door. A sign over the door read: "Enter here". I turned back to look into the open door of the motor home to tell my daughter I was going to go in and see if anyone recognized the dog.
My son was in the driver's seat.
Ohhhh...kaaaay.
Tina appeared in the doorway. "Are you going in?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied. "Maybe someone knows who this little girl belongs to."
Tina looked over my shoulder at the door. "Uh... all righty, then." She looked at Sam. He looked back at her, eyes wide, and shrugged.
I shook my head. " Don't be scared," I said. "These big bad dogs will protect me."
I opened the door and stepped inside. The door clapped shut behind me. Molly squirmed and whined, but the other dog was perfectly calm.
I was in a narrow passageway, with a long line of people waiting to climb a rickety staircase with half-sized risers. A few people were coming down, but the majority were waiting to make the climb.
I stood on tiptoes, looking up, up, up. I couldn't see the top. I also couldn't turn around, as there were now people behind me in this cramped line.
We climbed. Molly tried her best to greet everyone, wagging her tail and stretching out her neck for a pat whenever possible. The few people headed down nodded solemnly, pet the dog and went on without speaking.
The steps were scarily narrow, and I tried to watch my feet while holding a dog in each arm. Not easy.
Finally, we reached the top, and I was overwhelmed to see a path, slightly inclined, with logs half buried in rich, dark soil every few feet. Trees lined either side, and people began the final hike upward.
"Molly," I whispered to the beloved little black dog, "this is where that photo was taken."
Molly stared up into my face, just as if she was asking me what photo I was talking about.
"You know," I told her. "The photo we were supposed to write the March story about."
The dog sighed.
I didn't blame her.
The other dog looked straight ahead at the path, and we started the last part of our climb. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of things.
At the end of the path, there was another door. It wasn't crooked or shabby like the first door, but it was obviously old. One by one, people entered. Once in a while, a person would come back out and start walking back.
At last, it was my turn. I went inside, and there, I met God.
Don't ask me what he looked like. I have no idea.
Don't ask me how I knew it was God. It was God. I knew it, that's all.
"What are you doing here?" God asked.
"I found this--" I began, lifting the lost dog toward him.
"That's not your dog," God said.
"I know!" I agreed. "She--"
"You have to take her back," God said. "You have to return her to her owner."
"Yes, but--"
"You're not supposed to be here," God continued. "It's not your time. Run along, now."
I'm thinking fast during this exchange: What if it really was my time? Molly is so young! She should go back to Mom and Dad.
"It's not Molly's time, either," God said, and I thought: He heard me!
"That's good," I said, "because--"
"When it's her time, she'll come. You, too. But today is not your time, so, off you go, now!" And He took me by the shoulders, turned me around, and pushed me gently back out the door.
Now I'm going down, down, down, and wondering if all the others who were taking that same walk were being sent back to life, or if they were being sent further down.
I decided I didn't want to know that.
Molly was trying to kiss everyone we passed, and most everyone gave her smiles and pats while avoiding looking directly at me.
Maybe they were wondering the same thing I was about that downward trek.
Finally, someone spoke to me: "The steps are scary." It was a nice-looking gentleman with a head full of thick, white hair. "Be careful."
"Thank you," I replied. "It's slow going with my hands full--can't use the hand rail."
"What hand rail?"
He was right--no rail.
I picked my way down carefully, my size six feet feeling enormous on the narrow steps.
I was almost at the bottom when I saw another old schoolmate about to start the upward climb. She was wearing a lime green visor cap and looked much younger than her fifty-something years. She passed me, saying, "Excuse me, ma'am."
I turned to watch her climb the steps and called her name, then said, "It's me! Paula!"
"I thought so," she replied. "I didn't want to say anything. Your kids are getting a ticket."
I was at the door. "What? Why?" I cried, but she was gone.
I went back out into the street. Molly leapt out of my arms and started trotting down the road toward the motor home, which had been moved.
I chased her, the foundling dog bouncing serenely against my breast, watching Molly. "You come here, right now!" I admonished the little stinker. "Are you nuts, Molly? Look at all this traffic!"
Molly sat down next to the motor home and looked up at me. The passenger door swung open. Sam looked relieved as Molly and I climbed in.
"You got a ticket?" I gasped. "Why?"
"Parked in front of a fire hydrant," Sam replied.
I sighed. "How much?"
"Nothing." Now my son grinned at me. "We told the cop about the dog in the road, and when he saw you come out that door with the dogs, he gave me a warning instead of a ticket."
"Thank God!" Tina said.
"Yeah," I agreed. "You can say that again."
"What about her? Did anyone know who she belongs to?"
"God knows," I said. "But He didn't tell me."
"Huh?"
And… I woke up!
Now I don't know if I got the dog back to her owner, or who the owner is, or where we were taking all those dogs, or what town we were in...
Or anything else, for that matter!
But I do know you can't get into Heaven with someone else's dog.
So there's that.
________________________________________________________________________________
Dreams are weird. Have I told you that before?
I'll probably tell you again, sometime.
Until we meet again!
1:16 p.m.
You can't get into Heaven with someone else's dog.
Yep. Lessons learned from dreams. So weird.
I crawled back into my bed this morning after taking the dog out. I was cold. I didn't want to be up yet; I just wanted to lie in bed, toasty warm.
About the time I decided to get up, because I was never going to fall asleep, I...fell asleep!
And, holy cow, such a weird dream ensued.
Molly and I came upstairs and found a big black dog with a white star on his forehead sitting in the kitchen. Never saw him before in my life. But-- "Hi, Scout," I said. "How'd the surgery go?"
He was on a leash, but there were no bandages or anything, so... I don't know. He wasn't able to follow us to the living room, though, and that's where we went next.
Mom and Dad were sitting in their chairs, watching television. I sat down, and a black dachshund jumped up into my lap and squirmed her way next to Molly. I started petting her like this was nothing unusual, although, like the dog in the kitchen, I'd never seen her before.
She was soon joined by two more dogs, a black and white border Collie and a brown something or other with a tail that spun like a propeller with his joy. Within seconds, Scout joined us all, dragging his leash.
None of us seemed at all surprised with this abundance of dogs in the house.
None of us were surprised when my son appeared at the door, ready to take me somewhere, along with all six dogs. Mom and Dad greeted Sam much as if they saw him every day, rather than once every year or so, and waved us all out the door.
At the curb: one hellacious motor home. That thing was gigantic! We loaded the dogs and I took the passenger seat, a comfy captain's seat that swiveled 360 degrees. Wow!
I turned, expecting to see my daughter-in-law, but instead, there was an old classmate of mine, Tina, and several more dogs.
Wherever we were off to, it had something to do with all the dogs. We drove down the street, turned onto Cedar, and...
… now, we were on crowded city streets. People walking to and fro, lots of traffic. I looked to my left as the motor home took a lurching left-turn at a traffic light, and--my daughter was behind the wheel!
What the hell?
""Oh, crap!" she cried, as she straightened the vehicle. "There's a cop behind me! I hope he didn't follow me all the way from Grandpa's!"
"Where are we?" I demanded. Molly was clinging to me like a little monkey.
Suddenly, a little black Chihuahua darted out in front of us, dragging a thick red leash. Sarah slammed on the brakes and swerved, just missing her. "Was that Molly?" she shrieked.
"Molly's right here," I said, trying to pry the dog off my neck. "Pull over!"
She parked the vehicle and I leaped out the door to catch the little dog before she could be hit by a car. Molly jumped out of my arms. "Molly!" I yelled. "Get back here! Are you crazy?"
Wonder of wonders, she came right to me, and let me pick her up. The other chihuahua followed and also allowed me to pick her up.
I stood up and looked around, hoping to see someone looking for this little girl. People were hustling through the street in all directions, but no one seemed to be searching for a missing pup.
I turned and noticed a tall building with a crookedly hung wooden door. A sign over the door read: "Enter here". I turned back to look into the open door of the motor home to tell my daughter I was going to go in and see if anyone recognized the dog.
My son was in the driver's seat.
Ohhhh...kaaaay.
Tina appeared in the doorway. "Are you going in?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied. "Maybe someone knows who this little girl belongs to."
Tina looked over my shoulder at the door. "Uh... all righty, then." She looked at Sam. He looked back at her, eyes wide, and shrugged.
I shook my head. " Don't be scared," I said. "These big bad dogs will protect me."
I opened the door and stepped inside. The door clapped shut behind me. Molly squirmed and whined, but the other dog was perfectly calm.
I was in a narrow passageway, with a long line of people waiting to climb a rickety staircase with half-sized risers. A few people were coming down, but the majority were waiting to make the climb.
I stood on tiptoes, looking up, up, up. I couldn't see the top. I also couldn't turn around, as there were now people behind me in this cramped line.
We climbed. Molly tried her best to greet everyone, wagging her tail and stretching out her neck for a pat whenever possible. The few people headed down nodded solemnly, pet the dog and went on without speaking.
The steps were scarily narrow, and I tried to watch my feet while holding a dog in each arm. Not easy.
Finally, we reached the top, and I was overwhelmed to see a path, slightly inclined, with logs half buried in rich, dark soil every few feet. Trees lined either side, and people began the final hike upward.
"Molly," I whispered to the beloved little black dog, "this is where that photo was taken."
Molly stared up into my face, just as if she was asking me what photo I was talking about.
"You know," I told her. "The photo we were supposed to write the March story about."
The dog sighed.
I didn't blame her.
The other dog looked straight ahead at the path, and we started the last part of our climb. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of things.
At the end of the path, there was another door. It wasn't crooked or shabby like the first door, but it was obviously old. One by one, people entered. Once in a while, a person would come back out and start walking back.
At last, it was my turn. I went inside, and there, I met God.
Don't ask me what he looked like. I have no idea.
Don't ask me how I knew it was God. It was God. I knew it, that's all.
"What are you doing here?" God asked.
"I found this--" I began, lifting the lost dog toward him.
"That's not your dog," God said.
"I know!" I agreed. "She--"
"You have to take her back," God said. "You have to return her to her owner."
"Yes, but--"
"You're not supposed to be here," God continued. "It's not your time. Run along, now."
I'm thinking fast during this exchange: What if it really was my time? Molly is so young! She should go back to Mom and Dad.
"It's not Molly's time, either," God said, and I thought: He heard me!
"That's good," I said, "because--"
"When it's her time, she'll come. You, too. But today is not your time, so, off you go, now!" And He took me by the shoulders, turned me around, and pushed me gently back out the door.
Now I'm going down, down, down, and wondering if all the others who were taking that same walk were being sent back to life, or if they were being sent further down.
I decided I didn't want to know that.
Molly was trying to kiss everyone we passed, and most everyone gave her smiles and pats while avoiding looking directly at me.
Maybe they were wondering the same thing I was about that downward trek.
Finally, someone spoke to me: "The steps are scary." It was a nice-looking gentleman with a head full of thick, white hair. "Be careful."
"Thank you," I replied. "It's slow going with my hands full--can't use the hand rail."
"What hand rail?"
He was right--no rail.
I picked my way down carefully, my size six feet feeling enormous on the narrow steps.
I was almost at the bottom when I saw another old schoolmate about to start the upward climb. She was wearing a lime green visor cap and looked much younger than her fifty-something years. She passed me, saying, "Excuse me, ma'am."
I turned to watch her climb the steps and called her name, then said, "It's me! Paula!"
"I thought so," she replied. "I didn't want to say anything. Your kids are getting a ticket."
I was at the door. "What? Why?" I cried, but she was gone.
I went back out into the street. Molly leapt out of my arms and started trotting down the road toward the motor home, which had been moved.
I chased her, the foundling dog bouncing serenely against my breast, watching Molly. "You come here, right now!" I admonished the little stinker. "Are you nuts, Molly? Look at all this traffic!"
Molly sat down next to the motor home and looked up at me. The passenger door swung open. Sam looked relieved as Molly and I climbed in.
"You got a ticket?" I gasped. "Why?"
"Parked in front of a fire hydrant," Sam replied.
I sighed. "How much?"
"Nothing." Now my son grinned at me. "We told the cop about the dog in the road, and when he saw you come out that door with the dogs, he gave me a warning instead of a ticket."
"Thank God!" Tina said.
"Yeah," I agreed. "You can say that again."
"What about her? Did anyone know who she belongs to?"
"God knows," I said. "But He didn't tell me."
"Huh?"
And… I woke up!
Now I don't know if I got the dog back to her owner, or who the owner is, or where we were taking all those dogs, or what town we were in...
Or anything else, for that matter!
But I do know you can't get into Heaven with someone else's dog.
So there's that.
________________________________________________________________________________
Dreams are weird. Have I told you that before?
I'll probably tell you again, sometime.
Until we meet again!
Saturday, March 23, 2019
Saturday, March 23, 2019
2:31 p.m.
It's Spring, and today it actually feels like it. Snow is melting, sun is shining, and the little dog wants to spend as much time as possible running in and out.
Please, please, tell me what difference there really is between a young dog and a toddler! Super-power-like energy levels, can't make up minds about in or out, up or down, to eat or not to eat. Hold me, hold me, put me down. Late naps and up all night. Whine, fuss. Molly and my youngest granddaughters are essentially the same! Until they learned to talk, there was minimal difference.
And, you know, I swear Molly tries to talk! She's pretty good at getting her wants and needs understood around here. I don't know if that's because she's so smart, or because I have more time to pay attention to her than I did pets in my past.
2:31 p.m.
It's Spring, and today it actually feels like it. Snow is melting, sun is shining, and the little dog wants to spend as much time as possible running in and out.
Please, please, tell me what difference there really is between a young dog and a toddler! Super-power-like energy levels, can't make up minds about in or out, up or down, to eat or not to eat. Hold me, hold me, put me down. Late naps and up all night. Whine, fuss. Molly and my youngest granddaughters are essentially the same! Until they learned to talk, there was minimal difference.
And, you know, I swear Molly tries to talk! She's pretty good at getting her wants and needs understood around here. I don't know if that's because she's so smart, or because I have more time to pay attention to her than I did pets in my past.
Whatever the case, she's the queen around here. Yes, she's freaky smart, and funny, and she's so darn lovable. Molly has no enemies. She loves nine and three quarters out of ten people she meets. On the rare occasion she doesn't like someone, I am instantly suspicious and on my guard.
For the record, I can't say that about the granddaughters. They are a lot more cautious about liking people--thank goodness!!
__________________________________________________________________________________
Looking out at the yard, I can see that there's a lot of work to be done as soon as the snow retreats. Last fall, Dad was not interested in yard work-- a disturbing first. There are tons of leaves to be raked up and hauled out. I hope, with the medication changes he's been through this winter, that he will have a renewed interest in getting outdoors and working in the yard and garden. I sure hope so, because it's certainly not a job I can do. I'm allergic to outside. Literally.
It's beyond fortunate that my brother has remained in the same town as my parents, and has taken on so much of the outside work the last few years. I know many older people whose yards start to look very neglected when they are no longer up to the tasks of maintaining lawns and gardens.
Mostly, I just want Dad to care again, even if he can't do much on his own anymore. It broke my heart last summer when he'd say things like, "Oh, it's fine. It doesn't matter. It' okay, the leaves will blow away." If I wasn't looking right into his face when he said those things, I never would have believed it.
I think dementia and depression go hand in hand much of the time, and they rob the joy from the last years of life. It just sucks.
_________________________________________________________________________________
5:44 p.m.
During our lunch, Dad, Mom and I were talking about dreams. Most we forget by the time we're fully awake. Most are confusing little fragments that make no sense at all. But sometimes they can be so vivid and real that you can't seem to lose them.
For Dad, we have found that there are times he can no longer distinguish them from reality. He will insist that we have said or done something that never happened, and it can sometimes be upsetting. He forgets so many things, but not these lucid dreams. They sometimes stick with him for days, and while they do, we must patiently (!!! Mostly...!!!) explain to him that, no, this didn't happen in real life.
I don't understand what's up with that. But dreams have always been a mystery, haven't they? I'm going to have to do a little research, I think, about dreams and brain function. It probably won't help much while he insists I told him he had to do something and I know I didn't, but...maybe it will.
In the meantime, I hope my brother-in-law isn't really in jail, and that my daughter isn't stuck in the mud, because last night was a doozy with the nonsensical dream fragments. Molly was on top of the freezer--I don't even think I can reach up there in real life--crying because it's too high to jump down. Or up, for that matter, but there she was!
I'm sleepy! Ha ha.
I'd sign off by wishing you "sweet dreams", but that seems a little mean, considering.
Have a good evening!
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
5:11 p.m.
I wasn't planning to write just now--I have been doing some financial stuff (yuck!)--and my plan was to go watch something inane on television, so I wouldn't have to think too hard.
But, no go. Molly crawled up behind me in the desk chair and fell asleep, and I don't have the heart to wake her up. So...
Hello!
Hey, it's the first day of Spring. The sun is shining, and the thermometer told me it was over 40 degrees, but for some reason, I have been cold all day. I suppose I just have to be contrary. (Mom has always said so!)
So, the news feed in recent times has me contemplating the joys of being a hermit. I mean, is it just me, or do people really just suck? I don't know a lot of sucky people personally, but in general, based on what I see and hear out there in the lovely old world, a lot of sucky people exist, and they are the ones making all the noise and all the news.
I recently wrote a novella about a world gone wrong, and some of the people who survived who will try to set things right. And yet, as I tried like hell to plot some sort of happy ending, I knew that there were probably some sucky people who survived and who will try to make things continue to go wrong.
Human nature? Free will? What is wrong with some people? Why do they choose hate over love, war over peace, discord over harmony?
(I suppose "those people" are over in their own corners asking that question about me. That makes me sad.)
Call me weird, but I just want to gather in a large outdoor area filled with tables and benches, and have a pot luck with everyone. Bring something to share, sit with a stranger, eat and laugh. Play music. Dance.
But, like any wedding reception attendee will tell you, there's always that one guy. The guy who has too many beers--or a belly ache, maybe-- and decides that some feckless, laughing man is after his woman. Then all hell breaks loose, people take sides and the war begins.
Who is "that one guy"? Why does he always have to show up and spoil a good time?
I could go on with this, but everyone who reads will put a different person in the "that one guy" role, and choose their own good time that he's destined to spoil.
Sheesh. I knew I should wake up the dog and go watch television.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Speaking of sleeping Molly, she likes to take late naps and then stay up all night. She reminds me of all the toddlers I have ever known.
Yeah, that's my backside in the background. For some reason, she likes to nap right here. What the heck, it keeps me warm. Silly Molly.
__________________________________________________________________________________
I have been waiting for a call from the pharmacy all day. I swear, it takes my Dad's doctor's office forever to get a simple prescription called in sometimes! It's frustrating.
I have lived in the Metro Denver area for a long time, and there are so may choices for doctors there. They all know it, so they seem to work harder at patient satisfaction. There's not a lot of competition around here, so these doctors are a bit lax.
Or maybe I'm just grumpy...
Nope. They are slow.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Okay, some books, as promised. Fiction, this time.
El Hermano by Carmen Baca
This is currently only available in paperback, but well worth the wait. It is the true story of a young man growing up in New Mexico whose upbringing and choices will lead him to a life of service to the Lord and his community.
Bellingwood Series Books 1-3 by Diane Greenwood Muir
Polly moves to small town Iowa to start a new business in a renovated school building. This is a charming series. Diane is a busy lady who also has a newsletter you might like to look into if you enjoy her books. Check her out at: Nammynools
These are a couple of really good Indie authors I've been reading for a while now. I recommend getting to know them better.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, my good friends, I'm off to make something--I don't know what yet--for dinner.
Have a great evening!
5:11 p.m.
I wasn't planning to write just now--I have been doing some financial stuff (yuck!)--and my plan was to go watch something inane on television, so I wouldn't have to think too hard.
But, no go. Molly crawled up behind me in the desk chair and fell asleep, and I don't have the heart to wake her up. So...
Hello!
Hey, it's the first day of Spring. The sun is shining, and the thermometer told me it was over 40 degrees, but for some reason, I have been cold all day. I suppose I just have to be contrary. (Mom has always said so!)
So, the news feed in recent times has me contemplating the joys of being a hermit. I mean, is it just me, or do people really just suck? I don't know a lot of sucky people personally, but in general, based on what I see and hear out there in the lovely old world, a lot of sucky people exist, and they are the ones making all the noise and all the news.
I recently wrote a novella about a world gone wrong, and some of the people who survived who will try to set things right. And yet, as I tried like hell to plot some sort of happy ending, I knew that there were probably some sucky people who survived and who will try to make things continue to go wrong.
Human nature? Free will? What is wrong with some people? Why do they choose hate over love, war over peace, discord over harmony?
(I suppose "those people" are over in their own corners asking that question about me. That makes me sad.)
Call me weird, but I just want to gather in a large outdoor area filled with tables and benches, and have a pot luck with everyone. Bring something to share, sit with a stranger, eat and laugh. Play music. Dance.
But, like any wedding reception attendee will tell you, there's always that one guy. The guy who has too many beers--or a belly ache, maybe-- and decides that some feckless, laughing man is after his woman. Then all hell breaks loose, people take sides and the war begins.
Who is "that one guy"? Why does he always have to show up and spoil a good time?
I could go on with this, but everyone who reads will put a different person in the "that one guy" role, and choose their own good time that he's destined to spoil.
Sheesh. I knew I should wake up the dog and go watch television.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Speaking of sleeping Molly, she likes to take late naps and then stay up all night. She reminds me of all the toddlers I have ever known.
Yeah, that's my backside in the background. For some reason, she likes to nap right here. What the heck, it keeps me warm. Silly Molly.
__________________________________________________________________________________
I have been waiting for a call from the pharmacy all day. I swear, it takes my Dad's doctor's office forever to get a simple prescription called in sometimes! It's frustrating.
I have lived in the Metro Denver area for a long time, and there are so may choices for doctors there. They all know it, so they seem to work harder at patient satisfaction. There's not a lot of competition around here, so these doctors are a bit lax.
Or maybe I'm just grumpy...
Nope. They are slow.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Okay, some books, as promised. Fiction, this time.
El Hermano by Carmen Baca
This is currently only available in paperback, but well worth the wait. It is the true story of a young man growing up in New Mexico whose upbringing and choices will lead him to a life of service to the Lord and his community.
Bellingwood Series Books 1-3 by Diane Greenwood Muir
Polly moves to small town Iowa to start a new business in a renovated school building. This is a charming series. Diane is a busy lady who also has a newsletter you might like to look into if you enjoy her books. Check her out at: Nammynools
These are a couple of really good Indie authors I've been reading for a while now. I recommend getting to know them better.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, my good friends, I'm off to make something--I don't know what yet--for dinner.
Have a great evening!
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
March 19, 2019
4:34 p.m.
Sometimes I think the whole world has gone completely crazy.
Nebraska and Iowa are experiencing dreadful flooding. Farms and ranches are underwater, livestock is dead or in danger of dying, people have lost their homes and everything in them.
What's on the news? An actress bribed her kids' way into college!
Trump tweets! (AGAIN!!!)
What the hell is wrong with this picture? Why are we more concerned with stupidity and celebrities than with real, everyday people dealing with real life-threatening situations?
And by the way, where's your hamburger and milk coming from after this, people? Not to mention your veggies?
I can't do much, but I can certainly share this link to all my readers, and hope that by spreading the word, Nebraskans will get some much needed publicity and help:
How to Help Nebraska
I have searched for similar information for Iowa and so far, I haven't found anything, but I will let you know if I do.
Don't drive on flooded roadways, please. "Turn around, don't drown" is great advise!
Sorry to rant a bit, but we really need to start paying more attention to life altering events and not to celebrity scandals and the "Twitterverse" whining guys.
__________________________________________________________________________________
5:16 p.m.
Flooding notwithstanding, I'm so ready for winter to be gone. Spending too much time indoors is not good for the parents. We all need fresh air, but we all get cold.
I just want to sit on the deck and watch the dog play in the yard. Please?!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
Once in a while, I feel the need to share some reading recommendations. You're welcome!
Life's That Way by Jim Beaver.
Alice Cooper: Golf Monster by Alice Cooper
As You Wish by Cary Elwes
These are non-fiction. Tomorrow I will share some fiction by some Independent writers, because I can do that--help writes reach more readers!
(That means you. Read! Learn stuff. Be entertained.)
_________________________________________________________________________________
Must feed people!
Until we meet again!
4:34 p.m.
Sometimes I think the whole world has gone completely crazy.
Nebraska and Iowa are experiencing dreadful flooding. Farms and ranches are underwater, livestock is dead or in danger of dying, people have lost their homes and everything in them.
What's on the news? An actress bribed her kids' way into college!
Trump tweets! (AGAIN!!!)
What the hell is wrong with this picture? Why are we more concerned with stupidity and celebrities than with real, everyday people dealing with real life-threatening situations?
And by the way, where's your hamburger and milk coming from after this, people? Not to mention your veggies?
I can't do much, but I can certainly share this link to all my readers, and hope that by spreading the word, Nebraskans will get some much needed publicity and help:
How to Help Nebraska
I have searched for similar information for Iowa and so far, I haven't found anything, but I will let you know if I do.
Don't drive on flooded roadways, please. "Turn around, don't drown" is great advise!
Sorry to rant a bit, but we really need to start paying more attention to life altering events and not to celebrity scandals and the "Twitterverse" whining guys.
__________________________________________________________________________________
5:16 p.m.
Flooding notwithstanding, I'm so ready for winter to be gone. Spending too much time indoors is not good for the parents. We all need fresh air, but we all get cold.
I just want to sit on the deck and watch the dog play in the yard. Please?!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
Once in a while, I feel the need to share some reading recommendations. You're welcome!
Life's That Way by Jim Beaver.
Alice Cooper: Golf Monster by Alice Cooper
As You Wish by Cary Elwes
These are non-fiction. Tomorrow I will share some fiction by some Independent writers, because I can do that--help writes reach more readers!
(That means you. Read! Learn stuff. Be entertained.)
_________________________________________________________________________________
Must feed people!
Until we meet again!
Sunday, March 17, 2019
Sunday, March 17, 2019
7:43 p.m.
Oh, boy, sometimes I feel like no one is listening...
No, I'm not about to go off on another rant about being mad at God. I get mad at Him sometimes. It happens. But no, that's not what I mean.
I don't know that I'm entirely sure what I DO mean, though...
Okay, here's the thing. I have time to think, some days, when I'm cooking or whatever it is I do around here. It occurs to me that my parents--who were always quite social--seem to have been forgotten.
Yes, it's true that they are in their 80s now, incredible as that seems, and so they have lost friends in the past few years. But they have others, still. And I find myself wishing that the phone would ring, or someone would just come to the door.
That's it. I wish someone would remember to visit--here or on the phone. I wish someone would remember to ask them out sometimes. A movie, a lunch date, even pie and a cup of coffee.
I'm here with them nearly every single day--they must get tired of me sometimes and want to see other people!
I have suggested the Senior Center, but can't seem to convince them to go. They feel like they don't know a lot of people anymore. I feel like they need to meet some new ones if that's the case.
When I'm at home, I am pretty likely to just walk out the door, catch a bus and go wherever I like. I don't mind going alone--I'm anti-social that way. Ha ha! I talk to whomever I wish and do as I want, and answer to no one.
Here--not so much. No bus. Not many places to go. And I really, really need to take the time to get a driver's license! I don't need one in Denver--I haven't had a car for over a decade and I've never missed a thing about driving! But this place is a different scenario altogether.
I reckon if I was driving, I could push them out the door more often to go out and do things. But in the meantime, I am very disappointed that no one seems to remember to include them.
They're still here!!!
Okay, winter is hard, I know. No one really wants to go out that much when it's cold. But, Spring is coming.
I need to get them back out and involved. Someone please suggest to me how I can do that!
________________________________________________________________________________
Once upon a time, I got married. And I was married for a while, and together for a while before that. And I think today might actually be an anniversary. I don't know how to feel about the fact that I can't really remember for sure...
Wow. That's kind of sad.
Except I don't even feel sad, except for the memory loss issue. Hmm...
I might have to look this up. Somewhere.
Meh. Whatever.
________________________________________________________________________________
Molly has been having issues with the time change. She believes she should be allowed a nap right about now, and then stay up and play all night.
No, not a toddler. A Chihuahua.
Oh, right. Same difference.
Anyway, she needs cuddles and I'm typing one handed--not well, I might add. So I'm going to take her downstairs to play and tire herself out.
Good night!
7:43 p.m.
Oh, boy, sometimes I feel like no one is listening...
No, I'm not about to go off on another rant about being mad at God. I get mad at Him sometimes. It happens. But no, that's not what I mean.
I don't know that I'm entirely sure what I DO mean, though...
Okay, here's the thing. I have time to think, some days, when I'm cooking or whatever it is I do around here. It occurs to me that my parents--who were always quite social--seem to have been forgotten.
Yes, it's true that they are in their 80s now, incredible as that seems, and so they have lost friends in the past few years. But they have others, still. And I find myself wishing that the phone would ring, or someone would just come to the door.
That's it. I wish someone would remember to visit--here or on the phone. I wish someone would remember to ask them out sometimes. A movie, a lunch date, even pie and a cup of coffee.
I'm here with them nearly every single day--they must get tired of me sometimes and want to see other people!
I have suggested the Senior Center, but can't seem to convince them to go. They feel like they don't know a lot of people anymore. I feel like they need to meet some new ones if that's the case.
When I'm at home, I am pretty likely to just walk out the door, catch a bus and go wherever I like. I don't mind going alone--I'm anti-social that way. Ha ha! I talk to whomever I wish and do as I want, and answer to no one.
Here--not so much. No bus. Not many places to go. And I really, really need to take the time to get a driver's license! I don't need one in Denver--I haven't had a car for over a decade and I've never missed a thing about driving! But this place is a different scenario altogether.
I reckon if I was driving, I could push them out the door more often to go out and do things. But in the meantime, I am very disappointed that no one seems to remember to include them.
They're still here!!!
Okay, winter is hard, I know. No one really wants to go out that much when it's cold. But, Spring is coming.
I need to get them back out and involved. Someone please suggest to me how I can do that!
________________________________________________________________________________
Once upon a time, I got married. And I was married for a while, and together for a while before that. And I think today might actually be an anniversary. I don't know how to feel about the fact that I can't really remember for sure...
Wow. That's kind of sad.
Except I don't even feel sad, except for the memory loss issue. Hmm...
I might have to look this up. Somewhere.
Meh. Whatever.
________________________________________________________________________________
Molly has been having issues with the time change. She believes she should be allowed a nap right about now, and then stay up and play all night.
No, not a toddler. A Chihuahua.
Oh, right. Same difference.
Anyway, she needs cuddles and I'm typing one handed--not well, I might add. So I'm going to take her downstairs to play and tire herself out.
Good night!
Wednesday, March 13, 2019
Wednesday, March 13, 2019
11:18 a.m.
They said snow--and they were right. I guess weather folk have to be right sometimes, but I would much prefer they were wrong about this one. Snow--blah!
In Colorado they are calling this storm a "bomb cyclone". Well...that sounds ominous. I guess I better call my kids! I'm grateful that the roof has been repaired on the old casa, because--wow! "Bomb cyclone".
I don't know what they're calling the storm here in Wyoming. A "storm", maybe? A "blizzard"? the only Blizzard I'm interested in is a Brownie Blizzard from Dairy Queen. And I'm not even very interested in that.
________________________________________________________________________________
I'm Author of the Week on Book Whores Facebook group this week. This might mean nothing to you, but I'm honored.
This affords me the opportunity to post a lot about my books, four of which happen to be on sale this week. But I can't post anything! Something is up with either the Internet--possible due to this storm--or Facebook. So that is a bummer!
_________________________________________________________________________________
Stormy day equals spaghetti dinner around here, so I must be off and start preparing the meal.
I hope you have a great mid-week day. If you're out and about in Wyoming, Colorado, Utah and such--please be careful and stay safe!
Ta!
11:18 a.m.
They said snow--and they were right. I guess weather folk have to be right sometimes, but I would much prefer they were wrong about this one. Snow--blah!
In Colorado they are calling this storm a "bomb cyclone". Well...that sounds ominous. I guess I better call my kids! I'm grateful that the roof has been repaired on the old casa, because--wow! "Bomb cyclone".
I don't know what they're calling the storm here in Wyoming. A "storm", maybe? A "blizzard"? the only Blizzard I'm interested in is a Brownie Blizzard from Dairy Queen. And I'm not even very interested in that.
________________________________________________________________________________
I'm Author of the Week on Book Whores Facebook group this week. This might mean nothing to you, but I'm honored.
This affords me the opportunity to post a lot about my books, four of which happen to be on sale this week. But I can't post anything! Something is up with either the Internet--possible due to this storm--or Facebook. So that is a bummer!
_________________________________________________________________________________
Stormy day equals spaghetti dinner around here, so I must be off and start preparing the meal.
I hope you have a great mid-week day. If you're out and about in Wyoming, Colorado, Utah and such--please be careful and stay safe!
Ta!
Monday, March 11, 2019
Monday, March 11, 2019
3:25 p.m.
I started the day with a message that I was chosen Author of the Week in the Facebook group "Book Whores"! I don't know how they choose, but--hey! I'm honored!
Coincidentally, this is the same week I am running a book promotion with four of my titles on sale for $0.99 each. Here are the links:
S23HF50
Emma: Ancestors' Tales
Roger's Revelation
Roger's Dilemma
I hope you will check these out and grab a copy while the prices are reduced--some over 75%!
It's always so nice to have someone reading your book.
I have an author page on Amazon, and it would be great if you'd check that out as well!
Author Paula Shablo
You can also find me on Facebook:
Author/Writer Paula Shablo
Ah, the glorious art of self-promotion. I'm not very talented at this particular art. I always feel somewhat...I don't know...silly? But I am feeling really good about being named "Author of the Week" somewhere, and so I'm going to promote myself and feel okay with it!
Buy some books! That'll make me feel REALLY good.
_________________________________________________________________________________
3:43 p.m.
The day is grey. More snow may be on the way. I'm diligently avoiding the weather reports. It is March, and I am weary of winter. Spring, please come!
Lunch with my sister and brother-in-law is always nice. They usually come on Mondays. It breaks up the sameness of every other day of the week. Turkey and mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie--you can't beat that! Yummy! I made dinner, and my sister made the pie. Then she didn't eat the pie, because she gave up sweets for Lent.
Well, that reminded me a bit of yesterday's rant, so I guess I will give up getting mad at entities that may or may not exist over things that no one has any control of or cure for. At least, I will TRY.
Mom and Dad's laundry is all done. I just have to talk myself into bringing it upstairs. I'm feeling kind of achy today, and it's making me lazy.
The achy and tired me I will blame on the time change. Messes me up every time! Our bodies are wired to wake up, eat, work and sleep in a particular manner, and changing the clocks and telling our bodies that we now have to do those things an hour earlier--or later-- is just ridiculous. Even the dog is messed up over it. She knows when she wants to eat or go to bed. She's not going to listen to me when I tell her that she has to do it an hour earlier than her body clock has been programmed.
Oh well, I think dogs are smarter than people, anyway. She did what she wanted yesterday in spite of the clock, and be danged with the time change. You rock, Molly.
_________________________________________________________________________________
If you want to enjoy some quick reads, you might want to check this out:
Write the Story
Each month, a photo prompt is given, and writers are asked to tell a short story inspired by their impressions. I've participated, and read many of the stories contributed. It's amazing how widely varied the stories are! None are very long, so this is great for when you only have a few minutes for reading.
________________________________________________________________________________
I mentioned Lent a little bit ago. I wonder if I should give up news reports? They're a bummer, though... I think I'm supposed to give up something good...
________________________________________________________________________________
Well, my peeps, that laundry is not going to bring itself upstairs, so I am off!
Have a fabulous rest of your Monday!
3:25 p.m.
I started the day with a message that I was chosen Author of the Week in the Facebook group "Book Whores"! I don't know how they choose, but--hey! I'm honored!
Coincidentally, this is the same week I am running a book promotion with four of my titles on sale for $0.99 each. Here are the links:
S23HF50
Emma: Ancestors' Tales
Roger's Revelation
Roger's Dilemma
I hope you will check these out and grab a copy while the prices are reduced--some over 75%!
It's always so nice to have someone reading your book.
I have an author page on Amazon, and it would be great if you'd check that out as well!
Author Paula Shablo
You can also find me on Facebook:
Author/Writer Paula Shablo
Ah, the glorious art of self-promotion. I'm not very talented at this particular art. I always feel somewhat...I don't know...silly? But I am feeling really good about being named "Author of the Week" somewhere, and so I'm going to promote myself and feel okay with it!
Buy some books! That'll make me feel REALLY good.
_________________________________________________________________________________
3:43 p.m.
The day is grey. More snow may be on the way. I'm diligently avoiding the weather reports. It is March, and I am weary of winter. Spring, please come!
Lunch with my sister and brother-in-law is always nice. They usually come on Mondays. It breaks up the sameness of every other day of the week. Turkey and mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie--you can't beat that! Yummy! I made dinner, and my sister made the pie. Then she didn't eat the pie, because she gave up sweets for Lent.
Well, that reminded me a bit of yesterday's rant, so I guess I will give up getting mad at entities that may or may not exist over things that no one has any control of or cure for. At least, I will TRY.
Mom and Dad's laundry is all done. I just have to talk myself into bringing it upstairs. I'm feeling kind of achy today, and it's making me lazy.
The achy and tired me I will blame on the time change. Messes me up every time! Our bodies are wired to wake up, eat, work and sleep in a particular manner, and changing the clocks and telling our bodies that we now have to do those things an hour earlier--or later-- is just ridiculous. Even the dog is messed up over it. She knows when she wants to eat or go to bed. She's not going to listen to me when I tell her that she has to do it an hour earlier than her body clock has been programmed.
Oh well, I think dogs are smarter than people, anyway. She did what she wanted yesterday in spite of the clock, and be danged with the time change. You rock, Molly.
_________________________________________________________________________________
If you want to enjoy some quick reads, you might want to check this out:
Write the Story
Each month, a photo prompt is given, and writers are asked to tell a short story inspired by their impressions. I've participated, and read many of the stories contributed. It's amazing how widely varied the stories are! None are very long, so this is great for when you only have a few minutes for reading.
________________________________________________________________________________
I mentioned Lent a little bit ago. I wonder if I should give up news reports? They're a bummer, though... I think I'm supposed to give up something good...
________________________________________________________________________________
Well, my peeps, that laundry is not going to bring itself upstairs, so I am off!
Have a fabulous rest of your Monday!
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Sunday, March 10, 2019
4:21 p.m.
Well, I finally did it--I Googled myself!
I didn't expect to find anything, really. I'm not famous or anything.
I found a lot! My address is out there. My political affiliation is out there. A phone number is listed, but it is wrong. So that's cool. Because I get too many unsolicited calls already!
My books are out there, too. I originally listed them on Amazon, but they are available to order at Barnes and Nobel, Wal-Mart, E-Bay and a lot of other places! That sure surprised me.
My Amazon page is there, my Goodreads page is there, even my Medium page is there. My blog and G+ links are also there.
Wow. I'm a searchable entity.
Now I have to process how I feel about that...
________________________________________________________________________________
Molly is sleeping behind me, keeping my backside warm while I work. I swear, she's dreaming. It doesn't seem to be a great dream.
Maybe she's squashed. Silly dog!
________________________________________________________________________________
Well, I went on a bit of a rant this morning and my poor sister got an earful about how angry I am with God or the Universe or the Multiverse or whatever it is. I'm going to hell, if there is one.
Look, I sort of believe that people should get what they deserve. Apparently God doesn't work that way. Killers abound and get away with it. Rapists get slaps on the wrist. Child molesters get probation.
The good guys, though? My Dad got up every morning for decades and served his family, his friends, his community and his God. His reward? Dementia.
Where's a loving God in this scenario?
I mean, what the hell? Whatever happened to "Let the punishment fit the crime" and "Cheaters never prosper" and even "What goes around comes around"?
Why do the bad guys get all the money and all the breaks, while the good guys get shafted?
I call bullshit.
Okay, it has been a bad week. And I know--I KNOW!!-- that there are so many things to be grateful for. So many. But-- damn it!
Mom argues that it is not God. It's the devil. Well...God made him, too.
I hate feeling this way. Generally speaking, my relationship with God is ambiguous on good days, so bad days do nothing to get me in a super "Pro-God" state of mind.
And again, I hate feeling this way.
When I was a kid, I could feel the goodness of God. I mean, literally feel it. It was all around me, and my faith was unshakable. I loved going to church, loved the atmosphere of the place, the smells--everything about it made me feel good.
Then...well, life happened. And happened again. And I had so many questions! Why, if God loved me, had this thing been allowed? Why, if God loved me, hadn't He stopped that from occurring? After all, I was doing everything He said I should be doing, and not doing the things He said I shouldn't. Sometimes-- most of the time, in fact--that was really hard! So why wasn't he living up to His side of the bargain?
I'm almost 60, and having had my faith shaken repeatedly and sometimes quite cruelly, it's a blue-eyed wonder that I even think about God at all, let alone still believe (sort of; sometimes) that He exists at all.
Why shouldn't I doubt? Have you looked at the world lately? Have you taken note of the "leaders" we've been "blessed" with? To those who say God placed them in their positions of power, I would like to ask: "And this is a LOVING God?"
I'm pissed. I want my father back. MY father, the one who is disappearing day by day.
I can't fix this. And God won't fix it. Why? I don't know. What's His end-game? What's His divine purpose in causing a man who went to church every single day with the faith of a child and followed all the teachings to become a man who no longer cares if he puts on a clean shirt?
I don't understand. And like all humans, I don't like what I don't understand. I also don't believe there's any chance that this sort of suffering has a divine purpose. It's just cruel. Cruel to the sufferer and cruel to those who have no choice but to watch helplessly, because there's nothing else they can do.
You know what makes me the maddest? It's that I do still believe, and I do still pray that things will get better--or at least not get worse. It's that I feel guilty for feeling angry at God for not fixing things that He supposedly has the power to fix. Why should I feel guilty--God should feel guilty for not coming through with a cure for this awful affliction.
Yeah, I'm pissed that I am pretty sure I can go to hell for feeling this way. I'm not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but I have tried to be better and to do right and to stay on the straight and narrow path. I don't kill, or rape, or rob banks. I don't steal from the store or disrespect my parents. But I do get mad at God, so... the devil may very well get me.
And in the meantime, I will be broke and sick and brokenhearted and I will have a million questions when the time comes, starting with "If you love us, then why---?"
Blind faith and free will...my ass.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Remember back in the day when I said I was only ever going to say nice things on my blog?
Big fail today.
You know what? Oh, well. I just said I wasn't perfect. Now you know it's true.
But I'm sorry, anyway.
I have this overwhelming desire to delete everything, but you know what? I trust in your understanding.
I love you people.
I think you know that, while I am upset, I clearly have something I'm clinging to...
I still hope...
And this is enough for now. Enough writing, enough ranting, and enough.
I'm going to go fold some clothes and feel normal.
Cheers!
4:21 p.m.
Well, I finally did it--I Googled myself!
I didn't expect to find anything, really. I'm not famous or anything.
I found a lot! My address is out there. My political affiliation is out there. A phone number is listed, but it is wrong. So that's cool. Because I get too many unsolicited calls already!
My books are out there, too. I originally listed them on Amazon, but they are available to order at Barnes and Nobel, Wal-Mart, E-Bay and a lot of other places! That sure surprised me.
My Amazon page is there, my Goodreads page is there, even my Medium page is there. My blog and G+ links are also there.
Wow. I'm a searchable entity.
Now I have to process how I feel about that...
________________________________________________________________________________
Molly is sleeping behind me, keeping my backside warm while I work. I swear, she's dreaming. It doesn't seem to be a great dream.
Maybe she's squashed. Silly dog!
________________________________________________________________________________
Well, I went on a bit of a rant this morning and my poor sister got an earful about how angry I am with God or the Universe or the Multiverse or whatever it is. I'm going to hell, if there is one.
Look, I sort of believe that people should get what they deserve. Apparently God doesn't work that way. Killers abound and get away with it. Rapists get slaps on the wrist. Child molesters get probation.
The good guys, though? My Dad got up every morning for decades and served his family, his friends, his community and his God. His reward? Dementia.
Where's a loving God in this scenario?
I mean, what the hell? Whatever happened to "Let the punishment fit the crime" and "Cheaters never prosper" and even "What goes around comes around"?
Why do the bad guys get all the money and all the breaks, while the good guys get shafted?
I call bullshit.
Okay, it has been a bad week. And I know--I KNOW!!-- that there are so many things to be grateful for. So many. But-- damn it!
Mom argues that it is not God. It's the devil. Well...God made him, too.
I hate feeling this way. Generally speaking, my relationship with God is ambiguous on good days, so bad days do nothing to get me in a super "Pro-God" state of mind.
And again, I hate feeling this way.
When I was a kid, I could feel the goodness of God. I mean, literally feel it. It was all around me, and my faith was unshakable. I loved going to church, loved the atmosphere of the place, the smells--everything about it made me feel good.
Then...well, life happened. And happened again. And I had so many questions! Why, if God loved me, had this thing been allowed? Why, if God loved me, hadn't He stopped that from occurring? After all, I was doing everything He said I should be doing, and not doing the things He said I shouldn't. Sometimes-- most of the time, in fact--that was really hard! So why wasn't he living up to His side of the bargain?
I'm almost 60, and having had my faith shaken repeatedly and sometimes quite cruelly, it's a blue-eyed wonder that I even think about God at all, let alone still believe (sort of; sometimes) that He exists at all.
Why shouldn't I doubt? Have you looked at the world lately? Have you taken note of the "leaders" we've been "blessed" with? To those who say God placed them in their positions of power, I would like to ask: "And this is a LOVING God?"
I'm pissed. I want my father back. MY father, the one who is disappearing day by day.
I can't fix this. And God won't fix it. Why? I don't know. What's His end-game? What's His divine purpose in causing a man who went to church every single day with the faith of a child and followed all the teachings to become a man who no longer cares if he puts on a clean shirt?
I don't understand. And like all humans, I don't like what I don't understand. I also don't believe there's any chance that this sort of suffering has a divine purpose. It's just cruel. Cruel to the sufferer and cruel to those who have no choice but to watch helplessly, because there's nothing else they can do.
You know what makes me the maddest? It's that I do still believe, and I do still pray that things will get better--or at least not get worse. It's that I feel guilty for feeling angry at God for not fixing things that He supposedly has the power to fix. Why should I feel guilty--God should feel guilty for not coming through with a cure for this awful affliction.
Yeah, I'm pissed that I am pretty sure I can go to hell for feeling this way. I'm not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but I have tried to be better and to do right and to stay on the straight and narrow path. I don't kill, or rape, or rob banks. I don't steal from the store or disrespect my parents. But I do get mad at God, so... the devil may very well get me.
And in the meantime, I will be broke and sick and brokenhearted and I will have a million questions when the time comes, starting with "If you love us, then why---?"
Blind faith and free will...my ass.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Remember back in the day when I said I was only ever going to say nice things on my blog?
Big fail today.
You know what? Oh, well. I just said I wasn't perfect. Now you know it's true.
But I'm sorry, anyway.
I have this overwhelming desire to delete everything, but you know what? I trust in your understanding.
I love you people.
I think you know that, while I am upset, I clearly have something I'm clinging to...
I still hope...
And this is enough for now. Enough writing, enough ranting, and enough.
I'm going to go fold some clothes and feel normal.
Cheers!
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
March 5, 2019
12:44 p.m.
A Very Happy Birthday shout out to my son, Sam! Another year has gone by, and you've hit the next decade milestone. Not the big 2-0, either.
Or even the 3-0.
Forty years ago today, I gave birth to my first child.
Wow. Forty years. The really big 4-0.
12:44 p.m.
A Very Happy Birthday shout out to my son, Sam! Another year has gone by, and you've hit the next decade milestone. Not the big 2-0, either.
Or even the 3-0.
Forty years ago today, I gave birth to my first child.
Wow. Forty years. The really big 4-0.
It doesn't seem possible that so much time has gone by. I can still remember how he felt in my arms, tiny and warm and smelling sweetly of baby powder. I still remember how he got his name-- all that hair!
Where does the time go?
Anyway, if you see Sam today, remind him that his mom is getting old. Ha ha!
I'm awfully proud and happy to call this guy my son! Happy Birthday, kiddo! I love you!
_________________________________________________________________________________
I thought I was going to get away without getting sick this winter season, but...nope! Got me. My throat is sore and I'm congested. Blah!
Still gotta get the work done, though. Breakfast--check. Dishwasher loaded--check. Roast in the slow cooker--check. Go, me!
__________________________________________________________________________________
New tax crap is pretty much just that--crap. Did you make more money in 2018? What's your refund look like? You didn't get a raise, you got shafted.
Seriously, if this new "tax break" helped you out, let me know. Because for my kids and friends, it has been a bad joke.
You know, because none of us are billionaires.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I'm super excited to learn that Alice Cooper will be at FanX Salt Lake City next month, and even more excited that I'm going!!!! Gotta cross "Meet Alice Cooper in person" off my bucket list. Seriously, this might be the one who will really make me gush like a fan-girl. Over forty years being a fan--whew! Eeeeek!
Stay tuned for some serious fan-girl moments.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Hmm. I think the medicine might be working. I can smell the roast. It smells good. If only I felt like eating!
Molly is right behind me on the desk chair, keeping my back warm. She naps while I write. What a girl! Such a cute little sweetheart this dog is. This is probably really good for my posture--I have to sit up straight with my feet on the floor so I don't lean back and squash her.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Well. I am going to go check on my roast and maybe lie down for a few minutes. I don't like feeling like doo-doo. What a waste of my precious time!
Everyone have an excellent rest of your day!
Ta!
Sunday, March 3, 2019
March 3, 2019
1:26 p.m.
It's that time again. Time to write a story using a prompt. This is the photo prompt for March:
(Please note: the images we will use as prompts are free-use images and do not require attribution.)
When You Loved Me
by Paula Shablo
When you loved me, it never mattered that I couldn't face the sun. You agreed to drive us to the top of the mountain so we could descend it from East to West in the early morning.
When you loved me, it never bothered you that even so, I was covered from head to toe to protect myself from the penetrating light. Huge floppy hat, long sleeves and gloves in the summer heat never phased you; you sought my eyes behind the dark, dark lenses, and smiled.
You were a man who loved the sunshine, but you spent so much of your time with me in the darkness--moonlit picnics, midnight walks on the beach, dancing on the patio once the sun had set.
The morning on the mountain was one I faced in fear, but I can never forget the beauty of the day.
The sun burned through the back of my shirt, until you figured out just where to walk so I could remain in your shadow as we moved down the path. I longed to hold your hand, but that was impossible; I had to walk ahead and in shadows to finish the hike unscathed. When you loved me, you never minded walking behind.
Birds sang, and sunlight filtered through the ever-moving leaves on the trees, creating a dazzling display of dancing sparkles on the dew-wet grass and flowers. The dense growth of trees on either side of the path further protected me from any onslaught of damaging rays, and even through the dark lenses of my sunglasses, I reveled in the beauty of shifting patterns of light and shadow.
When you loved me, I dared to walk in daylight. When you loved me, it was worth the risk.
When you loved me, you found ways to include me in a life that had previously been filled with outdoor work and sports. You built shelters; you hunted for gigantic umbrellas; you bought the best sunscreens and sunglasses. When you loved me, you found ways to keep me safe.
When you loved me, I sat in screen tents wearing one or the other of the many huge and floppy hats you found for me, watching you play baseball or soccer. I slathered on enormous amounts of sunscreen and dressed in clothing meant for the coldest of winters and covered my head and carried ridiculously huge umbrellas to get from the house to the car, from the car to the club.
When you loved me, it was easy to carry another set of clothing to wear once we were indoors. Your friends may have wondered why you bothered at all with such a troublesome woman' I saw how they watched my transformations with curious eyes; saw them bite back the questions they longed to ask. When you loved me, you never noticed that at all.
When you loved me, you went out of your way to schedule most of our outings at night, even when you would have rather been out in the sunlight.
That was the reason I suggested the hike. When you loved me, it seemed to me you gave up so much of what made you who you were. I was afraid to give up much myself--who I am is not negotiable, and accommodating a daylight lifestyle is not an easy thing for me. But I wanted so much for you to know that when you loved me, it was reciprocated. I know loving me is not an easy thing.
And so, we drove to the top of the mountain, and we hiked down. I led the way, and your shadow protected me, much like you always protected me in my vulnerable times. I breathed in the rich odors of earth and pine, flowers and wood. I laughed at the antics of the squirrels and stared in amazement at the deer and rabbits that crossed our path.
When you loved me, it was my greatest pleasure to hear your rich baritone voice raised in joyful song while we walked. Even while you walked away from the sun, instead of up the mountain and into it's brilliant glow, you were happy to be with me.
I will never regret the risks. I will never regret the beautiful day--the marvelous path, man-made, but so natural, the birdsong, the wildlife. I will always remember your brilliant smile, your song, your sweet, sweet kisses and the strength of your arms as you held me tightly. Time passed too quickly while we waited for Ignacio to bring the van.
Back inside, back to the darkness, back to the night. Being in your arms was never sweeter.
I made my decision while you slept. It was the hardest choice I've ever had to make.
To one who lives for the night, morning always comes too soon, but it was cruelly quick in coming the day after the hike. Kissing you goodbye was worse than dying.
I know that pain all too well. Believe me. Kissing you goodbye was worse.
I knew I could never take you away from daylight.
Even when you loved me, I knew I must take flight while you were away.
I could have made you what I am--a creature of the night. I could have kept you with me forever. Perhaps you would have grown to love the darkness.
No!
Reputation would lead most to believe me selfish. Perhaps I am, but...no.
I know who you are. I know you are meant for the sun. When you look up into the sky, your face glows with appreciation. Your skin is kissed by the light, and I don't ever wish to see it grow pale, washed out by night.
When you loved me, really loved me, even knowing what I am...I knew it would have to end this way.
Because, you see, I really loved you, too.
___________________________________________________________________________________
This is probably as close as I will ever come to writing a vampire story. It's not that I don't like vampire stories; Barnabas Collins gave my seven-year-old self such chills that no other vampire can ever take his place in my heart! No, the genre lives on, and I do enjoy it, but until today, I never was inspired to go down that path. Heck, I've barely gone down it, now.
She didn't even mention blood.
Oh, well. Love is weird.
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I hope you enjoy this story. I also hope you will check out the Writer's Unite prompt at Writer's Unite! Write The Story. You can also take a little trip into that photo and see what story it prompts you to write. Or you can read the many good tales already featured here.
Have a good one, people!
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