Tag Archives: writing

Sharing My World 63

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Share Your World January 9,2017

If you lost a bet and had to dye your hair a color of the rainbow for a week, what color would it be?

If the choices were strictly red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet,  I would go with red. Bright fire engine apple red.  So that people would stop and stare and make funny remarks about the crazy old lady with the flaming red hair.  But if it was ok to go with any hue you can come up with, I would much prefer pink, the colour of fluffy cotton candy. And maybe not quite so many startled exclamations from strangers.

If you could choose one word to focus on for 2017, what would it be?

Writing.  Or maybe Living.  I can’t decide. They are both things I am trying to focus on, but so far I’m doing my normal lackadaisical hit and miss break-taking job of both.  Nothing happens.  Then things happen that I don’t want to write about.  I have days where I would rather just obsess over them in silence.

Last week I learned of the death of a 67-year-old man I knew through work.  He died two days before Christmas, halfway through his work day.  I joked with him once about retiring, but he said he tried it briefly and got bored because his wife was still working so he came back.  Stories like this drive me nuts.  It’s like people decide to work themselves to death.  He was too old to be working and much too young to die.  And of course it is absolutely none of my business how anyone else chooses to exist.  Or ceases to exist in this lifetime.  Sometimes it makes me sad, and sometimes I think deceased people are lucky they won’t be around to face whatever happens next.  I know, it’s messed up.  I don’t want to talk about it.

What was one thing you learned last year that you added to your life?

I learned a whole lot about cleaning up and sprucing up and redecorating an old house.  Mostly I learned it’s a lot of work and I don’t ever want to do it again.  I also learned you should do it completely for yourself without trying to please anyone else.  It will just make you sad when the next people move in and decide to gut the place.  So I have added serenity.  I have subtracted mountains of clutter.  I have greatly simplified our next move.  If I die before then there’s way less crap for the living to sort through.

If life was ‘just a bowl of cherries’… which fruit other than a cherry would you be..?

A peach.  You have to work your way through the fuzzy skin to get to the good stuff.  Obviously I have no clue what this question means.

Optional Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I am grateful for my knee recovering from whatever its problem was.  I still walk around being cautious and aware of it, just in case.  And probably looking sneaky and weird in the process.

I am grateful for surviving a back-to-back full moon and Friday the 13th.  Although as many sources predict, next Friday could be infinitely more frightening.

Next week W goes for his one year follow-up on his hip replacement surgery.  Other than that madly exciting event, I’ve got nothing specific to anticipate.

More lists, though.  I’m not done with the lists. I will work on being slightly less morbid.  Yay for that, right?

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What would you like more of this year?  Here’s  my list.

  1. peaceful sound sleep
  2. great coffee
  3. good books
  4. amazing sunrises
  5. gorgeous sunsets
  6. smiles
  7. creativity
  8. writing ideas
  9. positive thoughts
  10. laughter
  11. daydreaming
  12. fun
  13. love
  14. gratefulness
  15. magic
  16. healing
  17. random acts of kindness
  18. crazy (the good kind)
  19. sunshine
  20. joy

Gotta get going on this one.  Starting with coffee.  Wish me luck.

Sharing My World 42

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SHARE YOUR WORLD – 2015 WEEK #50

Favourite thing to photograph? Write? Or Cook?

I like to photograph my art work in different lights and mess around editing the colours.  Then I can see things that need fixing.  Isn’t that weird?  You would think flaws would be easier to see in real life rather than on a screen.  I also like to take pictures of the outside from the inside, i.e. my back and front yards through the windows.   That is also weird, but I expect the novelty will wear off soon.  Well let’s hope so anyway.  Lately it’s my jungle themed Christmas.  See above for clarification.  Or consternation, your choice.

Obviously I enjoy writing about myself, I do so much of it, and that probably will never get old for any of us, because what else do we know more about?  Or less about and are still trying to write it all down to figure it out?   Poetry (even if it’s bad) is fun and challenging, but I haven’t written any for a long time.  And short stories are as ambitious as my fiction gets.  I don’t think I have the attention span to write anything longer.

There is nothing I LIKE to cook.  The only reason I do it at all is to keep myself from starving to death.

Did you like swinging as a child? Do you still get excited when you see a swing?

Yes, I loved swinging as a child!  No, I don’t get excited when I see swings these days because they’re never old tires tied to thick ropes dangling from real trees!  Now that’s exciting.  Dad made those for us as well as the kind with big fat board seats.  And here’s another weird thing.  Kids twisting themselves around and around until the swing ropes are super tight and then letting themselves go to spin back in the other direction until they’re so dizzy they could puke.  Best fun ever.  Second best fun for us was going as high as we could go until we were at the peak of the forward swing and then jumping off into nothing but blue sky.  We wanted to see who could travel the greatest distance and marked our landing spots in the dirt with a stick.  My brother always won that one, no contest.  The last time we played it he also broke his arm.

What has surprised you about blogging?

How much I like people!  Well, that came out wrong.  How connected I feel to so many different bloggers from so many different places, who have lives so very different from mine.  And yet we are alike.  It’s a beautiful thing.  So many people with so many stories to tell, so many friends I’ve never met but have come to know and love and look forward to hearing from every day.  And when they’re not around I miss them.

List at least five favorite desserts.

Well what a thing to ask of a newly diagnosed diabetic.  Three months ago if I thought about it at all, I imagined diabetics were people who ate entire cakes for breakfast and a box of donuts for lunch.  I can take or leave desserts and rarely eat them, so it all seemed terribly unfair.  I have learned so much since then.  Like how lucky I am to not crave sweet things.  My body has a hard enough time with potatoes or bananas or toast.

Anyway, yes, I remember desserts!  Chocolate ice cream, brownies, coconut cream pie, carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and chewy oatmeal raisin cookies.  I like those five, but can’t remember the last time I ate any of them.  I think it’s strange how we mess around with fruit making it in to pies and jams and cobblers and tarts.  Just eat the damn raw fruit, it’s fine the way it is.  Said the person who hates to cook.

Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I am grateful that W has not mentioned anything about Christmas music until today.  Wow, the 17th of December.  That’s gotta be a new record.  Normally by the 7th or so I am already having that swing twirling puke-type reaction to anything Jingle Bells related.  Now we have the sat radio on one of the (least offensive to me) Christmas stations.  He set the volume and I turned it down a notch.  See how we compromise and get along?  If he turns it to the country channel we are getting a divorce.

So next week is Christmas!  Wow, that snuck up on us while we weren’t looking.  There will be a turkey dinner but I don’t know yet what day, just that it will be after the 25th this year.  I like to carry on my mother’s tradition of celebrating Christmas on whatever day appears to be the one on which the highest number of people are likely to show up.  The Wing-It Family Christmas.

W’s six-week check up is next week (he will actually be seven weeks post op by then) and he should get the okay to drive, fingers crossed.  The chauffeurs life is not for me and I will gladly give it up.

Have a Happy Thursday and a great rest of the week!

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Sharing My World 18

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Share Your World – 2015 Week #6

What was the last time you went to a new place?

That would be island hopping in Greece, almost a year ago.  Various family members made the trip to remember my brother, who  loved it there but never got the chance to go back.  So we went back for him.  I even drank a beer in his memory.  Funny thing about Santorini,  his favourite spot, was that travelling up and down its cliffs by bus scared the hell out of me.  Never mind the gondola ride on which I faced the side of the hill rather than look at all that water.  How in the world could you raise children that close to a cliff edge?  With donkeys running around?  Plus be surrounded by ocean everywhere you went?  Those Greek people are incredibly brave.  Maybe there’s something in the olives.

If you were or are a writer do you prefer writing short stories, poems or novels, other?  And what type of genre would you prefer?

I fancy myself a writer, because I write things and always have.  I have never published anything except blog posts, and I don’t think that counts.  Short stories work with my particular attention span.  And whether I’m good at it or not, I love writing poetry.  I have a big sheet of paper with copious notes about many different types of poetry with the mechanics and rhyming information.  One fine day I will get around to actually using it.  Time is running out to write novels, I’m afraid.  A plot would be an excellent start, but I’ve never come up with one.  Maybe I should just stick to Biography/Memoir.  Soon I will be able to throw in some historical fiction based on my actual life.  And that could slowly turn in to Fantasy if I live long enough.

Out of your five senses (touch, taste, sight, smell, hearing) which is your favorite?

I have five incredible grandchildren, and it would be just as mind-boggling to choose my favourite one in that group as in this one.  Seeing and hearing would maybe be missed the most if they were suddenly gone, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.  If I didn’t have taste and smell perhaps I might enjoy my own cooking more.  Would losing ones sense of touch mean winter skin wouldn’t feel dry and itchy anymore?  That might be worth a shot.

If 100 people your age were chosen at random, how many do you think you’d find leading a more satisfying life than yours?

My life is 86% satisfying, so the answer is 14.  Well, I had to come up with something using my limited math skills.  But if all of these random one hundred people were asked to write down on a random scrap of paper their definition of a satisfying life, there would be a hundred different sized paper scraps, a hundred different answers, a hundred different regrets, and more than a hundred different reasons for each of them to celebrate the life they were given.  Satisfaction is all in your head.

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I can’t remember what happened yesterday, never mind last week.  Oh, wait!  My son turned 39 on Saturday.  I also don’t remember what happened when I was that age myself for an entire year.  I’m sure it was a good time.  This weekend I’m looking forward to a visit from the far-away four grandchildren, and the Valentine’s Day birthday of the closer-to-where-I-live one.  She will be fourteen on the fourteenth.  Time is flying by at an alarming rate.  I’d better get going on that memoir.

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Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story

I’ve been chosen to continue the Nano Poblano Blog Hop story that Fish of Gold started. Thank you Mer at Knocked over by a feather for passing it on to me!

The Blog Hop rules are simple:

  1. Add a new post on your blog with these rules, the story so far, and who’s been tagged.
  2. Title and tag the post as Nano Poblano Blog Hop Story.
  3. Add at least two sentences to the story.
  4. Pick another Pepper to tag (preferably one who hasn’t already been tagged).
  5. Add a link to your chosen Pepper’s about page to the Tagged list below.

 

And now here’s the story:

Edward walked into the hotel lobby just as the sun began to light up the city. He dragged a large, heavy trunk to the reception desk and rang the bell.

As he waited for someone to answer the bell, he tried to calm his breathing and wiped his sweaty brow with his coat sleeve. He heard a soft thud from the trunk and jerked his head towards it. His eyes had just a touch of fear in them as he listened for any other sounds. He never meant for things to go this far.

When the concierge emerged from the door behind the registration desk Edward stood up straight and tug on the lapel of his coat and says, “Er.” The concierge huffs and says, “Yes, may I help you?” Edward clears his voice and stutters out, “Mr. Maddox told me to deliver this trunk here for him.” Before the concierge could respond Edward abruptly turns and quickly runs out the door.

“What the…,” the concierge half-yelled as Edward cleared the doors and ran down the street of still-waking businesses.

The concierge, Randy, was now more than a little put out. First, he had been interrupted while playing Candy Crush at the end of a dull night on the desk. Now, he was having to deal with miscreants leaving junk in the lobby. He hoped his boss didn’t walk in at that moment and chew him out for it.

“Well,” Randy thought, “I guess I can prop my feet up on this at the desk.” He slowly, but carefully as not to ruin the flooring, started to drag the trunk into the office.

As Randy dragged the Victorian-era trunk with brown leather-bound maple paneling and shiny brass studs nailed into the trim, he noticed that the weight wasn’t distributed evenly. Grunting when he tried to lift the heavy luggage over a snag in the office carpet, he finally maneuvered the large object into position. This would be perfect for resting his tired feet, so he plopped his posterior into the cushy high-backed chair and threw his feet up onto the light side of the trunk.

Still bitter about his Candy Crush high score run getting interrupted, he decided to pull up Plants Versus Zombies 2 instead. Circulation returning to his legs, he vowed silently that no zombies would eat his brains tonight. He’d seen “Walking Dead.” They weren’t getting him or his sunflowers. Maybe it was thinking about zombies, perhaps it was thinking about how immobile he was if the zombie apocalypse hit, it could have even been the soup he made for dinner, but something didn’t sit well with him.

And then he heard and felt a thud coming from inside the trunk.

He whipped his feet off the trunk so fast, one of his shoes went flying across the room, knocking over a coffee cup. Dregs oozed out from between the cracks of his boss’s favourite mug.

“Damn it!” Randy exclaimed momentarily forgetting the sounds from inside the container. And then the screaming started.

The day clerk, Hank, had just entered the hotel lobby when he heard the screams coming from the office behind the reception desk. He ran as fast as he could into the small office and saw Randy slumped in the cushy office chair, wide-eyed and breathing heavily, and wearing only one shoe. Randy’s face was ashen gray and he was literally shaking.

Hank saw the large, antique trunk, its lid open and some sort of thick liquid inside. “What the hell, Randy?” he asked. “What was all that screaming about? And what is this trunk doing here?”

Randy extended a shaky hand toward the open trunk and pointed. All he could say was “something.” He said it several times, his eyes filled with fear.

Hank looked carefully at the trunk and then walked slowly closer to it. That’s when he noticed rancid smell and a trail of dark liquid leading from the old trunk out of the office and into the hotel lobby.

At precisely the moment that Hank’s addled brain (which, frankly, was a rather slow-moving machine in the smoothest of situations) caught up to the reality of what he was witnessing, the sounds of pandemonium crashed into the ears of both men. Screams seeped in under the doors. The metallic crunches and thuds of cars unwillingly having their shapes rearranged filtered through the lobby windows. Hank imagined that he heard bones snapping and blood dripping amidst the chaos, but certainly that wasn’t possible. Was it? Hank locked eyes with Randy, both faces reflecting terror to the other. What had been in the box? More importantly, would they be held responsible? Given his usual weasel-like demeanor, Hank made a brave decision: He would go have a peek at the street to get a better idea of what he had gotten himself into. Inhaling deeply for courage and balance, he shifted his foot to begin the short walk back to the lobby doors. And that’s when he noticed it…he was standing directly in a puddle of the sticky fluid from the trunk, and it was working its way through every opening of his shoe.

All of a sudden, both of his feet started to burn like he had just finished walking on hot coals. He certainly wasn’t getting paid enough to deal with such crazy shenanigans. He should have been a lawyer, just like his mother wanted him to be.

A quick detour to the mens room appeared to be in order,  and whatever lurked outside the lobby doors would just have to wait.  Leaving a trail of shoes and socks and rancid ooze behind him, Hank pushed through the washroom door, noticed that the cuffs of his pants were ruined and decided to drop those too.  He hopped up on to the counter, turned the taps on full blast and plopped  both of his burning feet under the gushing, cooling water.  It immediately turned a sickly greenish purple.  One of the cubicle doors opened and a stunned patron stopped dead to take in the sight of the dishevelled  boxer-clad day clerk effectively occupying two of the sinks, decided against washing his hands just this once, and hurriedly scuttled sideways to the exit.  Hank heard the door open, he heard the door close, and in between, over the thudding of his own heart, he heard the muffled sounds of chaos from the streets.

Who has contributed so far?

Fish of Gold
To Breathe is to Write
Silently Heard Once
Not A Punk Rocker
Amusing Nonsense
Inspiration in Progress
Mindful DigressionsNerd in the brain

Knocked over by a feather

And now me!

I pick markbialczak to be the next Pepper to add to this story!

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My Three Word New Years Resolution

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Trifextra Week Ninety Nine:

Michael Hess inspired us with his three word New Year’s resolution – just be nice.  We’re asking
for your own resolutions in just three words.

I made a long list for inspiration.  Carry a pen, stop and look, have some fun, ride the waves, laugh like hell, find what matters, write it down, tell your story.  I aspire to do all these things, plus use more glitter and shoot the moon.  Why?  Because ultimately I want to do this:

Leave Something Behind

It finally came down to those three words when I realized it’s why we do it all and why we write – so that some small part of us will live on after we’re gone.  If you can’t make your words earth shatteringly memorable , don’t worry.  Glitter is almost impossible to get rid of and will keep people thinking about you for a very long time.

Happy New Year to everyone at Trifecta and everyone who participates in these delightful challenges.  Keep making memories.

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Hyperbole Could Be the Most Fun You’ll Have in This Lifetime.

Trifextra Challenge:  For this weekend’s challenge we’re asking you to include some hyperbole in
your piece.  It doesn’t have to be the whole piece, but it needs to be in there,
and we’re looking for 33 words, as usual.

More hyperbole
More hyperbole (Photo credit: soukup)

“It takes forever to get home by cab and costs a fortune.  I live on the other side of the universe.”

“We’ve asked you a bazillion times, please stop exaggerating.  You’re killing us.”

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Authors Note:  The hardest part of this challenge was, for yours truly – the ultimate supreme hyperbole queen to infinity and beyond – having to stop myself at 33 words.  Whew.  But don’t cry me any rivers, I’m okay.  I refrained from setting myself on fire in frustration.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and lie down for a couple of days.

Grabbing Life by the Balls

The Big C is a television series I’ve been watching on Netflix.  Is this not the absolute best way to watch these things – having the power to skip all the intros and the credits and cut to the next episode with no commercial interruptions?    Although I rarely watch anything on tv anymore, I guess you could call this a condensed version of doing just that.

Thinking it was a movie when I first clicked on it turned out to be a happy accident because otherwise I wouldn’t have started watching it at all.  Days later and almost to the end of season 2, I’m still hooked.   So I suppose it’s safe to say I like many things about it.  The acting, the writing, the portrayal of not one but several messed up lives and how they intertwine.  Some of the situations seem a little too contrived, but the excellent acting always saves it.

After having listened to bits of the theme song a dozen times I was compelled to hear the whole thing.  And I’ve come to love it too.

Wikipedia  has a well detailed article on the premise and cast here .  The show is into its third season, so they must be doing something right.

Every person living with cancer or close to someone fighting the disease has a story to tell.  Some of us have been given a heads-up on how long we’ve got to get our shit together affairs in order.  Most of us think we have forever.  But the only thing for sure about the life we’re living is that it ends.  You take the life you are given and you deal with it.  It’s the living and the dealing that make you who you are and your life what it is.

Grabbing life by the balls seems to me like one of the best options we’ve got.  So let’s just do that.

Book Spine Poetry

If having completed a post a day, EVERY day for FIVE MONTHS (!) is not sufficient proof that I have way too much time on my hands, this post should finally do it.

I got the idea here  so it’s not like I dreamed it up on my own.  As if I have time for things like that.  It does kind of prove that anybody can be a poet.  Notice I left the words “good” and “successful” out of that sentence.

Like they suggested, I was going for interesting and thought provoking in the first one, and funny/weird in the second.  Or if you think it’s the other way around, that’s perfectly fine with me too.

She watches me by the light of the moon.

Nighttime is my time but I’m not alone.

While I’m falling,

After three cups of tea before I go to sleep,

On these still and silent nights of rain and stars,

I hear the voices say

Are you afraid of the dark?

I ask them to speak softly.

She can hear.

What’s wrong little Pookie?

What matters most?

Something under the bed is drooling?

The Cheese Monkeys eating the dinosaur

Must escape from the Alchemist?

No great mischief.

Go to sleep.

As you can see, throwing a couple of kid’s book titles in there makes for a bit more fun.  Although either one of the above could give you nightmares if you think about them long and hard enough.

So, don’t do that.  But really, you should try it. Pile up a bunch of books and make a statement!   It’s the most fun I’ve had all day.

What’s to Read?

If you are what you read, I’m probably in big trouble.  This little list should speak for itself.  Although what exactly it’s saying is beyond me.

             

                        

                     

All of these books could be called romantic medical fantasy murder mysteries.  Or romantic suspense action thriller fantasies. Or some variation of some or all of those things.  With a bit of paranormal psychic stuff thrown in here and there to keep you on your toes.  As if real life isn’t strange enough.

I don’t pretend to do book reviews anymore, in case you’re wondering.  I just like people to see how I spend my leisure time and hope it helps to explain my mental state and lack of focus.  I’m not crazy, I just read too much.