WALLS
by Sharon P. Pope
Day by week by year
One by one by one
Words actions pounds
Build walls that hold in
Emotions, anger, pain, resentment,
Disappointments, pride, and fear,
While holding out
Love, life, joy, happiness, inner peace,
And the people we love the most.
Showing posts with label personal experiences. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal experiences. Show all posts
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
An Exercise on Being Mindful
This is an exercise from Misty Mawn's pre-workshop in being mindful of whatever you're doing, really paying attention to and being present with one thing at a time. Living in the present moment and absorbing the essence of whatever you're doing at the time or whoever you're with.
I spent a few minutes with a burning candle, lit for my dad, absorbing the experience into my soul, and wrote about it. I feel more alive because of it. Here's what I wrote.
BEING MINDFUL
By: Sharon P. Pope
Sitting here at my work table, actually my dining room table, with my creative supplies and my cup of coffee gathered around me, I decide to light one of the three new votive candles sitting on the shelves for Daddy, who was taken from us seven years ago right before Thanksgiving.
I take the little candle and set it directly on the table, feeling the cool waxy smoothness as my fingers curl around it, then release it to stand on its own. I love the rosy coral color and the faint smell, although I’ve forgotten the name of the scent.
I pick up an old matchbook lying nearby, flip the cover open with my thumbnail, tear out a red-headed match, and tuck the cover back into place, noticing the scratchiness as I do so. After multiple attempts to light the match on the strip provided, I give up and toss the now smudged red-headed match into the trash can. It lands with a barely discernible click atop a crumpled up sheet of paper.
The matchbook cover is flicked open again, with a clicking of my thumbnail. A second red-headed match is torn out, and the cover replaced. This time I succeed with only a couple of strikes, and the match bursts into an angry flame, then quickly settles back down to calmness, the smoke curling toward my nose in a tendril of bluish smoke, bringing the slight smell of sulphur with it.
The flame wavers as the match rides between my fingers to touch noses with the whiteness of the candle wick. For a second they blaze up as one, before I remove the match and gently blow out the fire, watching another wisp of smoke dissipate as the flame is snuffed out.
I toss the bent, now black-headed, burned out match into the trash can to join the one whose flame never got to burn. Another flick and the cover is back in place. As I lay the matchbook down, I notice the dark blue background with the diamond shaped logo on both sides, done in shades of yellows and blues. The word, diamond, in white lower case lettering is ensconced across the logo. I suppose the match tips are supposed to be as hard as diamonds?
My attention returns to the candle, whose flame has now settled down into a mesmerizing point of light, slowly undulating this way and that. The tiny flame is so beautiful, yet so dangerous. Its capabilities are frightening.
The sounds of cars passing on the highway, my husband’s gentle snoring, as he sleeps on the couch, the ticking of the grandfather clock that daddy made for us, the rattle of the fan, the fridge’s humming, and the ringing in my ears, which is akin to a heard of crickets, all fade into the background as I focus on the candle.
Melted wax is now dribbling down the wick, melting out a well in the candle top, which was once slightly rounded. The wick is turning black as the fire feeds from it, causing the wax to melt and fill the well, which is getting deeper by the second. The hot wax releases a lovely tropical scent into the air. It delights my sense of smell.
My breathing is calm.
Yellow-oranges and purply-blues meet and form soft shades of gray where the flame and wick join. It continues to hypnotize. The rosy coral candle is no longer one color. It is now several shades around the top where the heat has gently transformed it. The sides are now translucent, allowing a soft warm glow to emanate from within.
It is gorgeous, and somehow comforting, as I feel the sadness of no longer having my dad around wash over me. My life has not, nor will it ever be, the same without him. I always knew that it would be hard to give him up when the time came, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain of loss and vulnerability that comes with losing a parent. Slowly, I’ve learned to live without him physically being here, but I always feel his presence in my heart, and I am grateful for that.
I turn the page in the journal where I am hand writing these words. It slips from my fingers, twice, landing on the candle, angering the flame, causing it to squat and reach out to grab the edge of the paper. My journal narrowly misses becoming a blaze itself.
Next time I will set the candle down in a proper container.
My page is secured and safe and my thoughts return to Daddy. Now I’m remembering all the happy times with him, the wonderful toys he made me when I was little, how he understood me, maybe more than anyone else, and that I always knew that he loved me and was proud of me, even if he couldn’t say it. I am grateful that he cared enough to teach me morals, values, and respect for myself and others. I am grateful that God gave me the parents I have, and grateful to still have Mama.
I watch as the well of melted wax overflows and spills over the side, creating a deep groove as it glides down and forms a puddle on the table. As the wax hits the chilliness of the table top, it hardens, connecting the candle to the table.
There is now a second well forming inside the first well inside the candle walls. The wick has burned down into the candle until it isn’t getting much oxygen. It is now very small and docile, but still struggling to survive, and still dangerous.
I lean over and with one puff blow out the tiny flame still grasping for life. The candle no longer has the warm glow with the dancing light. It is now dark and still. Its spirit, in the form of a blue-gray trail of smoke, dissipates and scatters, as it rises toward the ceiling, or heaven.
I feel the chill on my bare arms on this cool morning, as I think about how our lives are similar to the candle flames. Our flame burns brightly, as we struggle through life with all its twists and turns, learning and growing, leaping, dancing, stumbling. It dims some as we get older, then it is snuffed out, many times without warning, leaving those who loved us bewildered, trying to make sense of it all.
Some people would say that the candle is no longer beautiful, or even pretty. It’s true that it has been transformed by the fire, and is no longer shaped perfectly with a snow white wick protruding from the smooth slightly domed top.
The tiny wick is now charred black and almost covered with re-set wax down in the double wells. It not only no longer stands on top looking down, but it cannot see over the edge, now ragged, translucent, and faded. There is a deep groove down one side and a solid puddle of wax around the bottom. It has dents and dings.
Now it is flawed, full of character, and has an even deeper beauty.
It has lived. It has held onto fire and has been re-shaped and molded. It has brought me a sense of peace, tranquility, and beauty for the few brief moments it burned.
It has survived. Changed. But still beautiful in its imperfection.
I spent a few minutes with a burning candle, lit for my dad, absorbing the experience into my soul, and wrote about it. I feel more alive because of it. Here's what I wrote.
BEING MINDFUL
By: Sharon P. Pope
Sitting here at my work table, actually my dining room table, with my creative supplies and my cup of coffee gathered around me, I decide to light one of the three new votive candles sitting on the shelves for Daddy, who was taken from us seven years ago right before Thanksgiving.
I take the little candle and set it directly on the table, feeling the cool waxy smoothness as my fingers curl around it, then release it to stand on its own. I love the rosy coral color and the faint smell, although I’ve forgotten the name of the scent.
I pick up an old matchbook lying nearby, flip the cover open with my thumbnail, tear out a red-headed match, and tuck the cover back into place, noticing the scratchiness as I do so. After multiple attempts to light the match on the strip provided, I give up and toss the now smudged red-headed match into the trash can. It lands with a barely discernible click atop a crumpled up sheet of paper.
The matchbook cover is flicked open again, with a clicking of my thumbnail. A second red-headed match is torn out, and the cover replaced. This time I succeed with only a couple of strikes, and the match bursts into an angry flame, then quickly settles back down to calmness, the smoke curling toward my nose in a tendril of bluish smoke, bringing the slight smell of sulphur with it.
The flame wavers as the match rides between my fingers to touch noses with the whiteness of the candle wick. For a second they blaze up as one, before I remove the match and gently blow out the fire, watching another wisp of smoke dissipate as the flame is snuffed out.
I toss the bent, now black-headed, burned out match into the trash can to join the one whose flame never got to burn. Another flick and the cover is back in place. As I lay the matchbook down, I notice the dark blue background with the diamond shaped logo on both sides, done in shades of yellows and blues. The word, diamond, in white lower case lettering is ensconced across the logo. I suppose the match tips are supposed to be as hard as diamonds?
My attention returns to the candle, whose flame has now settled down into a mesmerizing point of light, slowly undulating this way and that. The tiny flame is so beautiful, yet so dangerous. Its capabilities are frightening.
The sounds of cars passing on the highway, my husband’s gentle snoring, as he sleeps on the couch, the ticking of the grandfather clock that daddy made for us, the rattle of the fan, the fridge’s humming, and the ringing in my ears, which is akin to a heard of crickets, all fade into the background as I focus on the candle.
Melted wax is now dribbling down the wick, melting out a well in the candle top, which was once slightly rounded. The wick is turning black as the fire feeds from it, causing the wax to melt and fill the well, which is getting deeper by the second. The hot wax releases a lovely tropical scent into the air. It delights my sense of smell.
My breathing is calm.
Yellow-oranges and purply-blues meet and form soft shades of gray where the flame and wick join. It continues to hypnotize. The rosy coral candle is no longer one color. It is now several shades around the top where the heat has gently transformed it. The sides are now translucent, allowing a soft warm glow to emanate from within.
It is gorgeous, and somehow comforting, as I feel the sadness of no longer having my dad around wash over me. My life has not, nor will it ever be, the same without him. I always knew that it would be hard to give him up when the time came, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain of loss and vulnerability that comes with losing a parent. Slowly, I’ve learned to live without him physically being here, but I always feel his presence in my heart, and I am grateful for that.
I turn the page in the journal where I am hand writing these words. It slips from my fingers, twice, landing on the candle, angering the flame, causing it to squat and reach out to grab the edge of the paper. My journal narrowly misses becoming a blaze itself.
Next time I will set the candle down in a proper container.
My page is secured and safe and my thoughts return to Daddy. Now I’m remembering all the happy times with him, the wonderful toys he made me when I was little, how he understood me, maybe more than anyone else, and that I always knew that he loved me and was proud of me, even if he couldn’t say it. I am grateful that he cared enough to teach me morals, values, and respect for myself and others. I am grateful that God gave me the parents I have, and grateful to still have Mama.
I watch as the well of melted wax overflows and spills over the side, creating a deep groove as it glides down and forms a puddle on the table. As the wax hits the chilliness of the table top, it hardens, connecting the candle to the table.
There is now a second well forming inside the first well inside the candle walls. The wick has burned down into the candle until it isn’t getting much oxygen. It is now very small and docile, but still struggling to survive, and still dangerous.
I lean over and with one puff blow out the tiny flame still grasping for life. The candle no longer has the warm glow with the dancing light. It is now dark and still. Its spirit, in the form of a blue-gray trail of smoke, dissipates and scatters, as it rises toward the ceiling, or heaven.
I feel the chill on my bare arms on this cool morning, as I think about how our lives are similar to the candle flames. Our flame burns brightly, as we struggle through life with all its twists and turns, learning and growing, leaping, dancing, stumbling. It dims some as we get older, then it is snuffed out, many times without warning, leaving those who loved us bewildered, trying to make sense of it all.
Some people would say that the candle is no longer beautiful, or even pretty. It’s true that it has been transformed by the fire, and is no longer shaped perfectly with a snow white wick protruding from the smooth slightly domed top.
The tiny wick is now charred black and almost covered with re-set wax down in the double wells. It not only no longer stands on top looking down, but it cannot see over the edge, now ragged, translucent, and faded. There is a deep groove down one side and a solid puddle of wax around the bottom. It has dents and dings.
Now it is flawed, full of character, and has an even deeper beauty.
It has lived. It has held onto fire and has been re-shaped and molded. It has brought me a sense of peace, tranquility, and beauty for the few brief moments it burned.
It has survived. Changed. But still beautiful in its imperfection.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
I AM HERE
Misty Mawn's Open Studio Workshop doesn't officially open until January 9, but she gave us a few preliminary things to do to get acquainted. One was to write a poem, of sorts, titled "I Am Here". This is my effort. The lines are not in any particular order, but in the order they came to me.
I'm a little nervous about sharing it, because some of it I've never shared with anyone, plus the fact that I'm not a poet. But for some reason, I want to share it. I hope you can make sense out of it. :)
By some miracle
By the grace of God
Despite childhood illnesses and accidents
Despite polio’s paralyzing attack
Despite being an only child
Despite the mistakes of my youth
Despite close calls with divorce
Despite being childless
Despite the pain of an adoption falling through
Despite suffering many losses
Despite being paralyzed by grief, trauma, and fear sometimes
Despite menopause
Despite many disappointments, heartbreaks, and heartaches
Despite life lessons learned the hard way
Despite bouts of anger and depression with suicidal thoughts
Despite not getting to spread my wings beyond my home town
Despite the guilt that my parents had no grandchildren
Despite a job I was unhappy doing
Despite all of my weaknesses
Despite rejections
Despite loneliness at times
Despite being made fun of in school for walking with a limp and having a weak bladder
Despite feelings of being totally overwhelmed at times
Despite the adjustments of retirement and hubby and I learning to live together 24/7
Despite the aches and pains of aging
Despite waning eyesight and memory lapses
I am here
Because of loving and caring parents
Because I survived polio to walk, run, and dance
Because of amazing friends and family
Because of wonderful grandparents
Because of having loved and been loved
Because of rejection
Because of the encouragement of teachers
Because of bosses who believed in me
Because of three best friends, who, since childhood, have stood by me through thick, thin, and weirdness
Because of all the wonderful pets I’ve been privileged to have in my life, who loved me unconditionally
Because of all the happy times
Because of a mother who loved me enough to encourage, and sometimes push, me to live life
Because of my strengths
Because of being an only child
Because of my imaginary friends
Because there are many sides to me
Because of accepting God as my personal savior long ago
Because of my husband of almost forty-two years
Because of the love of learning
Because I enjoy solitude
Because of my passion for art, writing, music, and reading
Because of finally finding peace within
Because I’m learning to live in the present
Because of life’s lessons learned through the people and experiences I’ve crossed paths with
I am here
Today I am loving retirement
Today I am enjoying my husband, despite the occasional disagreement
Today I am battling type 2 diabetes
Today I am ecstatic with my creative endeavors
Today I am still learning new things daily
Today I feel vibrant and alive
Today I don't have to be busy every second
Today I love my own company
Today I have gray in my hair and I am overweight
Today my body is all soft and mushy, the way grandchildren would have loved it
Today I am more concerned with inner beauty than makeup and fashion
Today I let things go that “should be” done, in order to enjoy the things and people I love
Today I am still making mistakes and learning from them
Today I am living one minute at a time
Today I still grieve and feel overwhelmed sometimes
Today I still live in the small town where I was born
Today I love and am loved
Today I still have my mom and my husband
Today I am still an only child, but with many “adopted” siblings in the form of friends and cousins
Today I still have a home and I am able to live in it
Today I can still take care of myself
Today I still have my old friends, and I continue to make new ones
Today I’m having adventures and looking for the everyday miracles and magic
Today I am on my computer discovering all the wonderful things that the web has to offer
Today I am older, wiser... and a little more forgetful
Today I am content on my little patch of earth
Today I am learning how better to cope with life and all its ups and downs, now that its winding down, but
I am here
I am who I am
I AM HERE
Still
By some miracle
By the mercy and grace of God
And I am grateful
I'm a little nervous about sharing it, because some of it I've never shared with anyone, plus the fact that I'm not a poet. But for some reason, I want to share it. I hope you can make sense out of it. :)
I AM HERE
By SP Pope
I AM HERE
StillBy some miracle
By the grace of God
Despite childhood illnesses and accidents
Despite polio’s paralyzing attack
Despite being an only child
Despite the mistakes of my youth
Despite close calls with divorce
Despite being childless
Despite the pain of an adoption falling through
Despite suffering many losses
Despite being paralyzed by grief, trauma, and fear sometimes
Despite menopause
Despite many disappointments, heartbreaks, and heartaches
Despite life lessons learned the hard way
Despite bouts of anger and depression with suicidal thoughts
Despite not getting to spread my wings beyond my home town
Despite the guilt that my parents had no grandchildren
Despite a job I was unhappy doing
Despite all of my weaknesses
Despite rejections
Despite loneliness at times
Despite being made fun of in school for walking with a limp and having a weak bladder
Despite feelings of being totally overwhelmed at times
Despite the adjustments of retirement and hubby and I learning to live together 24/7
Despite the aches and pains of aging
Despite waning eyesight and memory lapses
I am here
Because of loving and caring parents
Because I survived polio to walk, run, and dance
Because of amazing friends and family
Because of wonderful grandparents
Because of having loved and been loved
Because of rejection
Because of the encouragement of teachers
Because of bosses who believed in me
Because of three best friends, who, since childhood, have stood by me through thick, thin, and weirdness
Because of all the wonderful pets I’ve been privileged to have in my life, who loved me unconditionally
Because of all the happy times
Because of a mother who loved me enough to encourage, and sometimes push, me to live life
Because of my strengths
Because of being an only child
Because of my imaginary friends
Because there are many sides to me
Because of accepting God as my personal savior long ago
Because of my husband of almost forty-two years
Because of the love of learning
Because I enjoy solitude
Because of my passion for art, writing, music, and reading
Because of finally finding peace within
Because I’m learning to live in the present
Because of life’s lessons learned through the people and experiences I’ve crossed paths with
I am here
Today I am loving retirement
Today I am enjoying my husband, despite the occasional disagreement
Today I am battling type 2 diabetes
Today I am ecstatic with my creative endeavors
Today I am still learning new things daily
Today I feel vibrant and alive
Today I don't have to be busy every second
Today I love my own company
Today I have gray in my hair and I am overweight
Today my body is all soft and mushy, the way grandchildren would have loved it
Today I am more concerned with inner beauty than makeup and fashion
Today I let things go that “should be” done, in order to enjoy the things and people I love
Today I am still making mistakes and learning from them
Today I am living one minute at a time
Today I still grieve and feel overwhelmed sometimes
Today I still live in the small town where I was born
Today I love and am loved
Today I still have my mom and my husband
Today I am still an only child, but with many “adopted” siblings in the form of friends and cousins
Today I still have a home and I am able to live in it
Today I can still take care of myself
Today I still have my old friends, and I continue to make new ones
Today I’m having adventures and looking for the everyday miracles and magic
Today I am on my computer discovering all the wonderful things that the web has to offer
Today I am older, wiser... and a little more forgetful
Today I am content on my little patch of earth
Today I am learning how better to cope with life and all its ups and downs, now that its winding down, but
I am here
I am who I am
I AM HERE
Still
By some miracle
By the mercy and grace of God
And I am grateful
Thursday, December 10, 2009
A Birthday Sheep Story...
Remember the story three posts back about the friend who gave me two Snowbabies ornaments years ago and I put them up for safe keeping and couldn't find them again until a couple of months ago? Well, this little tale is about another one of our "mishaps," and, trust me, we've had many over the past 48 years. Yep, we've been close friends that long!
Anyway, her birthday was last Tuesday. I hadn't been anywhere to get her a card, so she didn't get one on her birthday. I thought about her several times, but she was at work, so I didn't call her either. The day AFTER her birthday, I decided to make her a card, so I used the doodle sheep that I had sketched and painted as the front. I typed my name and where it was from with the date on the back and printed it off on a nice digital card.
It looked good, so I handwrote the birthday song on the inside. Only instead of You, I wrote Ewe, as in "Happy Birthday to Ewe!" etc. It never occurred to me that this might cause some confusion.
My friend called me this past Tuesday night. She said it was a good thing she got the card Saturday (4 days after her bd) because she was going to call to see about me. Then she started laughing and said, "Let me tell you what you're little dumb friend did!"
She opened the card, looked at the front, and thought the sheep was sweet. Then she read the inside. She said she must have read it a dozen times trying to figure out what point I was trying to make by singing happy bd to E-we and sending it to her.
She sang it to me, "Happy Birthday to E-We!" I was already belly-laughing, but I didn't say anything. You had to have heard her telling it.
Finally, she looked back at the front, saw the sheep, and made the connection! By the time she told me this, we were both nearly rolling on the floor laughing. I told her that it never occurred to me that she wouldn't think about a ewe being a female sheep. To which she again sang, "Happy Birthday to E-we!" and we got tickled again.
She said at least I got hers in the mail. She had found some that she got for me that never made it to the mail box. She usually calls me sometime around my birthday though. I told her not to feel bad, that I had fixed up my other best friend a BD card back in July and set it on the shelf to mail. A few days later that friend called me, and I told her that her BD card was sitting on the shelf, that I didn't get it mailed yet, but that I would. About three days later, she came to see me and said that she came after her card. I promptly handed it to her, and we had some giggles over coffee.
Ahhh! The joys of being a Senior Citizen! It's a trip! LOL
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Little Story About Lost Snowbabies
I just published a post on http://wwwmoxiebluecom.blogspot.com/ with this sketch and a story about my lost snowbaby figurines.
It was a sketch for my Everyday Matters drawing group, to which I added a true story. I would have copied it here, but for some reason I can no longer copy and paste to my blogs, and I don't have time to re-type the whole thing right now.
It's titled "EDM #242--Snowbaby Figurine." Hope you enjoy it. :)
It was a sketch for my Everyday Matters drawing group, to which I added a true story. I would have copied it here, but for some reason I can no longer copy and paste to my blogs, and I don't have time to re-type the whole thing right now.
It's titled "EDM #242--Snowbaby Figurine." Hope you enjoy it. :)
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Pickin Cotton or Cotton Pickin...
The other day Mama was talking about picking cotton when I was little. She, daddy, and I literally had nothing but each other, well we had very little, and I was sick a lot. Daddy worked all the time when he could find work, and Mama worked at different things to help out, or if she wanted something extra.
I remember her picking cotton to get enough money to buy me a panda teddy bear when I was ten years old. Teddy is a little worse for love-wear, but I still have him. He is coming up on his 50th birthday.
Whoops! I told how old I am didn't I?
I told that because it triggered a memory for me. When I've been asked through life what my first paying job was, I've always said I worked one day in Skinner's 5 & 10 Store during my Senior year.
It was on a Saturday, during the Christmas rush. I was extremely shy and absolutely terrified. I was told to watch a couple of little girls that came in because they were bad to shoplift things. I was glad I didn't see them pick up anything, because I don't think I could have said anything. Then one of the ladies that worked there all the time got onto me because I wasn't making bows for gift wrapping when I wasn't busy otherwise. I didn't stop shaking all day long.
I did, however, stay until the end of the day, and was paid three dollars. I bought Mama some artifical roses in a pretty vase for Christmas from the same store. Mrs. Doris was very sweet to me, always, even when I didn't go back on Monday.
But I realize now that that actually wasn't my very first paying job.
Mama's sister and her husband lived next to a large cotton field owned by their brother-in-law. Mama and her sister had both gone to work at the new factory in town, so my maternal grandmother stayed at my aunt's house and took care of her three little girls. I stayed either with them or my paternal grandmother, who lived just a short piece down the country road. I often stayed one place until I got bored, then walked to the other. It was safer then, and I was around ten or eleven years old.
I grew up with and loved my younger cousins. They are still more like sisters to me than cousins.
Anyway, nobody had air conditioning back then, at least in our families, so most of the hot days were spent outside under a good shade tree. Granny broke beans, or whatever her task was at the time, while she watched over us playing. Ten year olds still played back then. Papa was often sitting nearby with a songbook in his hand singing the songs in do-re-mi notes, his favorite past time.
Since there was only a fence between the cotton field and my aunt's yard, we saw all the people bent over picking cotton during the hot days, then taking those large cotton sacks to the truck to be weighed. It looked like fun to my oldest cousin, who was five or six at the time, and me. We begged Granny into letting us go pick cotton. You know how grannys are. We wore her down.
The other two cousins were too little to go, but she gave Rhonda and me each a flour sack. I think mine was green with little gold threads running through it. Flour came in large cotton sacks back then. The material was used for all sorts of things, but that's another story, and yes, I'm that old. :)
We crawled over the fence and timidly found us a spot where there weren't many people. We were both very bashful and at first stood back and watched what the others were doing; seeing how they pulled the little white fluffs off the bolls and put them into their very large cotton sacks.
Then we began to pull off the soft white fluffs, being careful to dodge the stickery things, and put them into our flour sacks. We thought we were doing great and were so proud of ourselves. We each had some cotton in our sacks.
Then one of Rhonda's older male cousins talked her into giving him her cotton, which she did, because she trusted him and didn't know he was taking advantage of her. I think I fussed on her for giving it to him and she cried because she didn't have any left to sell. I felt bad for her.
We were getting hot, tired, and bored anyway. It seemed like we'd been there for hours, but it was probably more like an hour. I helped her pick some more cotton for her sack. Neither sack was even half full, but we marched right up to where the cotton was being weighed and handed Rhonda's uncle our sacks.
Uncle Robert was a kind man and went through the motions of weighing each of our sacks just like he did everyone else's.
Neither of us actually had three cents worth of cotton, I'm sure, but he gave each of us a dime. We were so proud of the dimes that we had earned picking cotton and couldn't wait to show Granny and tell our mamas.
A dime would buy a lot of candy when the peddlar came by.
And that is how picking cotton was my first paying job...and Rhonda's too, I'm sure, although she was probably too young to remember. It's a great memory for me though.
I remember her picking cotton to get enough money to buy me a panda teddy bear when I was ten years old. Teddy is a little worse for love-wear, but I still have him. He is coming up on his 50th birthday.
Whoops! I told how old I am didn't I?
I told that because it triggered a memory for me. When I've been asked through life what my first paying job was, I've always said I worked one day in Skinner's 5 & 10 Store during my Senior year.
It was on a Saturday, during the Christmas rush. I was extremely shy and absolutely terrified. I was told to watch a couple of little girls that came in because they were bad to shoplift things. I was glad I didn't see them pick up anything, because I don't think I could have said anything. Then one of the ladies that worked there all the time got onto me because I wasn't making bows for gift wrapping when I wasn't busy otherwise. I didn't stop shaking all day long.
I did, however, stay until the end of the day, and was paid three dollars. I bought Mama some artifical roses in a pretty vase for Christmas from the same store. Mrs. Doris was very sweet to me, always, even when I didn't go back on Monday.
But I realize now that that actually wasn't my very first paying job.
Mama's sister and her husband lived next to a large cotton field owned by their brother-in-law. Mama and her sister had both gone to work at the new factory in town, so my maternal grandmother stayed at my aunt's house and took care of her three little girls. I stayed either with them or my paternal grandmother, who lived just a short piece down the country road. I often stayed one place until I got bored, then walked to the other. It was safer then, and I was around ten or eleven years old.
I grew up with and loved my younger cousins. They are still more like sisters to me than cousins.
Anyway, nobody had air conditioning back then, at least in our families, so most of the hot days were spent outside under a good shade tree. Granny broke beans, or whatever her task was at the time, while she watched over us playing. Ten year olds still played back then. Papa was often sitting nearby with a songbook in his hand singing the songs in do-re-mi notes, his favorite past time.
Since there was only a fence between the cotton field and my aunt's yard, we saw all the people bent over picking cotton during the hot days, then taking those large cotton sacks to the truck to be weighed. It looked like fun to my oldest cousin, who was five or six at the time, and me. We begged Granny into letting us go pick cotton. You know how grannys are. We wore her down.
The other two cousins were too little to go, but she gave Rhonda and me each a flour sack. I think mine was green with little gold threads running through it. Flour came in large cotton sacks back then. The material was used for all sorts of things, but that's another story, and yes, I'm that old. :)
We crawled over the fence and timidly found us a spot where there weren't many people. We were both very bashful and at first stood back and watched what the others were doing; seeing how they pulled the little white fluffs off the bolls and put them into their very large cotton sacks.
Then we began to pull off the soft white fluffs, being careful to dodge the stickery things, and put them into our flour sacks. We thought we were doing great and were so proud of ourselves. We each had some cotton in our sacks.
Then one of Rhonda's older male cousins talked her into giving him her cotton, which she did, because she trusted him and didn't know he was taking advantage of her. I think I fussed on her for giving it to him and she cried because she didn't have any left to sell. I felt bad for her.
We were getting hot, tired, and bored anyway. It seemed like we'd been there for hours, but it was probably more like an hour. I helped her pick some more cotton for her sack. Neither sack was even half full, but we marched right up to where the cotton was being weighed and handed Rhonda's uncle our sacks.
Uncle Robert was a kind man and went through the motions of weighing each of our sacks just like he did everyone else's.
Neither of us actually had three cents worth of cotton, I'm sure, but he gave each of us a dime. We were so proud of the dimes that we had earned picking cotton and couldn't wait to show Granny and tell our mamas.
A dime would buy a lot of candy when the peddlar came by.
And that is how picking cotton was my first paying job...and Rhonda's too, I'm sure, although she was probably too young to remember. It's a great memory for me though.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Kitty Mini-Jungle
Once upon a time we had huge pine trees in the back yard, which made it very shady. Jim helped me make a small flower bed, approximately 8' x 10', just outside the dining room windows. I could also see it through the window over the sink in the kitchen when I was cooking or washing dishes, and through the utility room window when I was doing laundry.
Kibbles, my Pekingese dog companion at the time, and I worked diligently planting seeds, watching them grow, and weeding every summer. It was filled with snapdragons, hollyhocks, zinnias, marigolds, sunflowers, red and yellow, flowering moss, impatients, petunias, poppies, pink mums, a white peony, and assorted other flowers at one time or another. Many of the plants were given to me by my mother-in-law, mama, and friends, which made them extra special. I thought about each of the people who contributed every time I tended the plants.
A running water fountain with three children sculpted onto it sat in the center, and bird feeders and hummingbird nector surrounded the bed. Squirrels, birds of all kinds, chipmunks, and butterflies abounded, as well as other wildlife, some welcome, some not. :)
It was a delight to sit out by the flower bed in the shade, listening to the fountain, hearing and watching the birds sing and chirp, as they fluttered about eating or bathing in the cool water. The hummingbirds flying around sounded like tiny airplanes as they zipped about drinking the cool red liquid hanging in feeders nearby.
I heard the soft fluttering of a butterfly's wings once, as it flew swiftly by my ear. Amazing!
The squirrels would come and sit in the trees chattering, preaching I called it, trying to run us off so they could run the birds off and get the seed. It was like a small piece of heaven to sit out there and talk...or daydream.
We also loved sitting at the dining room table sipping coffee and watching the activity. Dishwashing was more pleasureable watching the activity outside. It was a time before digital cameras, and I made tons of photos through the windows using a telephoto lens on a 35mm camera. Wonderful times.
But then Kibbles got so old and sick that she had to be euthanized. It broke my heart. I started community college. Blight hit the pine trees and they all had to be cut, taking the shade with them. Life and various other traumatic events that changed my life took over and I no longer had the heart to have a flower bed.
Some of the flowers came back for a few years, but were eventually smothered out by weeds, vines, sage grass, and assorted other natural plants. A couple of stray cats adopted us. They and my dad's cat ended the bird, butterfly, chipmunk, and squirrel population in the yard, as well as, most other small wildlife that dared to enter. Well, the drought a few years ago helped.
The fountain hasn't been hooked up in years now. It sits there waiting to come to life again, to give pleasure and nourishment. All it needs is a little attention.
Because the bed was surrounded by a foot wide concrete border and a little fence, I couldn't mow it, so I used a weed-eater to keep it neat. I've done that every year up until this past fall. It was overgrown a little and I just left it.
I noticed during the fall and winter how much the cats enjoyed hiding and playing in the bed around the fountain and among the turned over flower pots and bird feeders. They often seek shelter during light rain or snow in one of the bigger open feeders that my dad built. Climbing on the fountain is like Disneyland to the kittens.
This spring I have not touched the garden. It has become a mini-jungle for the cats and kittens to play in. Sammidog also likes to lay in the coolness of the shady leaves. Nature has planted a variety of wonderful plants for us to enjoy.
While the kitty jungle looks like a mess that needs cleaning up to family and friends, it's a wonderful tiny piece of heaven again to me and my pets. There's a whole fascinating world of activity going on in the jungle among the leaves and vines. The cats aren't the only inhabitants if one looks closely.
It's not just weeds and such either. There's a bush with heart-shaped smooth leaves. When the leaves are new they are gorgeous reddish colors. They get green as they get larger and yellow as they die. There's also a vine of some sort with heart shaped rough leaves that resemble grape vine leaves climbing all over the feeder. Honeysuckle and blue morning glory vines climb the surrounding fence. Queen Anne's lace is beginning to bloom and the volunteer pink hollyhock is blooming since I took the pictures.
If, when I'm walking around it, I keep my eyes and ears open, I can see and hear a whole little world busy going about it's daily business of surviving. If I quietly stoop down, I can see the nooks and crannies under the vines with kittens sleeping or scuffling in the cool shade.
These cats are skittish though and often hide where they think I can't see them and watch me. It's when they don't know I'm watching from inside the house that the real action takes place. Right outside my windows there's a virtual circus, and it is such fun to watch.
The kittens chase each other around in the jungle, wrestling around in the vegetation. They climb and swing from the dis-assembled fountain and the feeder. They hide in the overturned flower pots and jump out on one another. It's so funny to see a kitten face under a leaf hat. They chase each other from the jungle, across a small distance in the yard to a tree, and back. Their antics are neverending and funny, and laughter is always good medicine.
Sometimes there's a kitten pile on the concrete rabbit bench, all napping (I love kitten piles), or a lone kitten curled up in a pot or on the cow skull that Sammidog hasn't destroyed yet. He completely pulverized the deer head skull I had in the bed, antlers and all.
I thought about preparing and planting the bed in all kinds of flowers this spring. I kind of wanted to, after all these years, but with Sammidog and the cats, there's no way it would survive. I can't even keep potted plants outside.
But that's okay.
I've found that often to have one thing we have to give up another, and I enjoy my pets. Besides God has given me a garden of a different kind. It may not have a lot of multi-colored flowers in it, but natural plants in a tiny jungle can be just as wonderful. The cats love having it and we enjoy the cats so it's relaxing, peaceful, and healing in a natural way, plus there's no weeding. That's a good thing. :)
The end--pictures follow...
The dis-assembled fountain. I mentioned the other day that we should hook it back up. The cats would love the running water. Jim, who used to not tolerate cats at all, was afraid they'd chew on the cord and get electrocuted, so I guess it will stay like it is for now.
A glass gazing ball. If you look close, behind and just a little to the right, you can see Sammidog's face. He's a camera hog and when he saw me making pictures of the bed he jumped over in it and posed.
It doesn't show up much, but the honeysuckle is blooming and smells so good. It's all along this side and one end. You can also see the wooden bird feeder under the other vine, Rabbit Hop Cafe painted on the roof. The kittens climb these vines like they were ropes.
The front of the bed with the concrete rabbit bench. The pink hollyhock on the left is blooming now, and the Queen Anne's Lace is beginning to.
You can't see the overturned pots, etc in the pictures, and I know it just looks awful and like a snake den to some of you, but it isn't. It's our own tiny jungle, complete with jungle cats, and fascinating adventures just waiting to be had. :)
Kibbles, my Pekingese dog companion at the time, and I worked diligently planting seeds, watching them grow, and weeding every summer. It was filled with snapdragons, hollyhocks, zinnias, marigolds, sunflowers, red and yellow, flowering moss, impatients, petunias, poppies, pink mums, a white peony, and assorted other flowers at one time or another. Many of the plants were given to me by my mother-in-law, mama, and friends, which made them extra special. I thought about each of the people who contributed every time I tended the plants.
A running water fountain with three children sculpted onto it sat in the center, and bird feeders and hummingbird nector surrounded the bed. Squirrels, birds of all kinds, chipmunks, and butterflies abounded, as well as other wildlife, some welcome, some not. :)
It was a delight to sit out by the flower bed in the shade, listening to the fountain, hearing and watching the birds sing and chirp, as they fluttered about eating or bathing in the cool water. The hummingbirds flying around sounded like tiny airplanes as they zipped about drinking the cool red liquid hanging in feeders nearby.
I heard the soft fluttering of a butterfly's wings once, as it flew swiftly by my ear. Amazing!
The squirrels would come and sit in the trees chattering, preaching I called it, trying to run us off so they could run the birds off and get the seed. It was like a small piece of heaven to sit out there and talk...or daydream.
We also loved sitting at the dining room table sipping coffee and watching the activity. Dishwashing was more pleasureable watching the activity outside. It was a time before digital cameras, and I made tons of photos through the windows using a telephoto lens on a 35mm camera. Wonderful times.
But then Kibbles got so old and sick that she had to be euthanized. It broke my heart. I started community college. Blight hit the pine trees and they all had to be cut, taking the shade with them. Life and various other traumatic events that changed my life took over and I no longer had the heart to have a flower bed.
Some of the flowers came back for a few years, but were eventually smothered out by weeds, vines, sage grass, and assorted other natural plants. A couple of stray cats adopted us. They and my dad's cat ended the bird, butterfly, chipmunk, and squirrel population in the yard, as well as, most other small wildlife that dared to enter. Well, the drought a few years ago helped.
The fountain hasn't been hooked up in years now. It sits there waiting to come to life again, to give pleasure and nourishment. All it needs is a little attention.
Because the bed was surrounded by a foot wide concrete border and a little fence, I couldn't mow it, so I used a weed-eater to keep it neat. I've done that every year up until this past fall. It was overgrown a little and I just left it.
I noticed during the fall and winter how much the cats enjoyed hiding and playing in the bed around the fountain and among the turned over flower pots and bird feeders. They often seek shelter during light rain or snow in one of the bigger open feeders that my dad built. Climbing on the fountain is like Disneyland to the kittens.
This spring I have not touched the garden. It has become a mini-jungle for the cats and kittens to play in. Sammidog also likes to lay in the coolness of the shady leaves. Nature has planted a variety of wonderful plants for us to enjoy.
While the kitty jungle looks like a mess that needs cleaning up to family and friends, it's a wonderful tiny piece of heaven again to me and my pets. There's a whole fascinating world of activity going on in the jungle among the leaves and vines. The cats aren't the only inhabitants if one looks closely.
It's not just weeds and such either. There's a bush with heart-shaped smooth leaves. When the leaves are new they are gorgeous reddish colors. They get green as they get larger and yellow as they die. There's also a vine of some sort with heart shaped rough leaves that resemble grape vine leaves climbing all over the feeder. Honeysuckle and blue morning glory vines climb the surrounding fence. Queen Anne's lace is beginning to bloom and the volunteer pink hollyhock is blooming since I took the pictures.
If, when I'm walking around it, I keep my eyes and ears open, I can see and hear a whole little world busy going about it's daily business of surviving. If I quietly stoop down, I can see the nooks and crannies under the vines with kittens sleeping or scuffling in the cool shade.
These cats are skittish though and often hide where they think I can't see them and watch me. It's when they don't know I'm watching from inside the house that the real action takes place. Right outside my windows there's a virtual circus, and it is such fun to watch.
The kittens chase each other around in the jungle, wrestling around in the vegetation. They climb and swing from the dis-assembled fountain and the feeder. They hide in the overturned flower pots and jump out on one another. It's so funny to see a kitten face under a leaf hat. They chase each other from the jungle, across a small distance in the yard to a tree, and back. Their antics are neverending and funny, and laughter is always good medicine.
Sometimes there's a kitten pile on the concrete rabbit bench, all napping (I love kitten piles), or a lone kitten curled up in a pot or on the cow skull that Sammidog hasn't destroyed yet. He completely pulverized the deer head skull I had in the bed, antlers and all.
I thought about preparing and planting the bed in all kinds of flowers this spring. I kind of wanted to, after all these years, but with Sammidog and the cats, there's no way it would survive. I can't even keep potted plants outside.
But that's okay.
I've found that often to have one thing we have to give up another, and I enjoy my pets. Besides God has given me a garden of a different kind. It may not have a lot of multi-colored flowers in it, but natural plants in a tiny jungle can be just as wonderful. The cats love having it and we enjoy the cats so it's relaxing, peaceful, and healing in a natural way, plus there's no weeding. That's a good thing. :)
The end--pictures follow...
The dis-assembled fountain. I mentioned the other day that we should hook it back up. The cats would love the running water. Jim, who used to not tolerate cats at all, was afraid they'd chew on the cord and get electrocuted, so I guess it will stay like it is for now.
A glass gazing ball. If you look close, behind and just a little to the right, you can see Sammidog's face. He's a camera hog and when he saw me making pictures of the bed he jumped over in it and posed.
It doesn't show up much, but the honeysuckle is blooming and smells so good. It's all along this side and one end. You can also see the wooden bird feeder under the other vine, Rabbit Hop Cafe painted on the roof. The kittens climb these vines like they were ropes.One end, behind the fountain. See the orange and white cat enjoying her jungle. She resented my intrusion on her nap. :)
The front of the bed with the concrete rabbit bench. The pink hollyhock on the left is blooming now, and the Queen Anne's Lace is beginning to.
You can't see the overturned pots, etc in the pictures, and I know it just looks awful and like a snake den to some of you, but it isn't. It's our own tiny jungle, complete with jungle cats, and fascinating adventures just waiting to be had. :)
Saturday, March 28, 2009
One-Minute Writer-Magic
Today's One-Minute Writer topic is Magic. Tell about a magical time you've experienced. Here's what I wrote:
"It was late afternoon a couple of days ago. The sun was setting, turning everything golden. Hubby and I sat on the edge of the bed watching a herd of deer frolicking in the hayfield. They were playing tag in the sage grass, running in and out of the long shadows, flagged tails flashing. They were unafraid and so carefree for the moment.
When they tired of playing and went back to grazing we came back to the kitchen to discover a large red fox eating with the cats outside. It was a magical, awesome few minutes that only God could create."
"It was late afternoon a couple of days ago. The sun was setting, turning everything golden. Hubby and I sat on the edge of the bed watching a herd of deer frolicking in the hayfield. They were playing tag in the sage grass, running in and out of the long shadows, flagged tails flashing. They were unafraid and so carefree for the moment.
When they tired of playing and went back to grazing we came back to the kitchen to discover a large red fox eating with the cats outside. It was a magical, awesome few minutes that only God could create."
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Fox & The Deer
I shared some photos and a story on my Moxie Blue blog last week of a large red fox that has been visiting our back yard in the late evenings, right around dusk, looking for leftover feed. He has beautiful red fur with a white underside and a white tipped bushy tail. His ears, tail, nose, and legs have black accents. He looks like he's wearing black knee socks.
I know there's a danger from wild critters, rabies being one possibility, but Foxy is gorgeous.
Anyway, I told you that to tell you about an amazing experience that Jim (hubby) and I had late yesterday afternoon. He went to the kitchen sink for something and happened to look out the window over the sink. "Sharon, come here! Hurry!" he said in a somewhat excited voice, trying not to talk too loud.
I said, "What is it?," not wanting to get up off the couch. I wondered what the cats or Sammidog were into now.
"It's two deer right here against the fence." he says. "Come here, quick!"
We live in the country with fields and woods connected to our narrow back yard. This is not a rare occurrance, but I got myself up and trudged to the sink to stand beside Jim as he pointed out the deer near the fence.
The low-setting sun was dancing off the field, haybarn, and the deer. Beautiful. About that time, three more deer came across the field to the front of the hay barn, and we spotted another one farther back, making six. None of them had antlers. Jim said they had already shed them for the season. Three of them were about half grown.
They were just fooling around and grazing as we continued to be fascinated by them. Jim said there must be another one, since they kept looking behind them. Eventually, they started ambling toward the hayfield beside the house, and as they did four more came out of the woods and across the field to join them. We counted at least ten in all.
The cats ignored the deer and continued to groom themselves. A couple of them did look around for a minute in a bored fashion, then went back to what they were doing.
Sammidog finally noticed them and trotted to the fence, barked a couple of times, and stood at attention with his question mark tail up for a minute watching them. Jim fussed because he thought Sammidog would scare them off, but the deer didn't move. No threat there.
Sammidog's gotten too fat to go through the fence and decided it wasn't worth the trouble to go around to get to the other side. He looked back at us through the window to see if we were watching, and came back to the porch. The deer went slowly on to the hayfield.
Jim suggested that we might could see them from the bedroom window facing the hayfield. We could. We sat on the corner of the bed and watched as they put on a show. I've seen them crossing behind the house many times, but I never saw them play like that before.
White tails flashed as the three half grown deer frolicked around in the golden colored sage grass in the field. They played deer tag as they ran and jumped around together, unafraid and carefree for the moment. They darted in and out of the shadows in flashes of soft brown fur and white flags, sunset highlights accenting them, as the mom's stood guard.
Eventually, they all came back up behind the house and started grazing again. We watched the deer for a while longer through the kitchen window, standing side by side, in awe at what we'd just witnessed.
I said, "Do you know how many people never get to witness anything that awesome? Or how many people would have seen it and never seen the beauty, but only prey to be shot down just for fun?"
Jim was as in awe as I was, and he used to hunt deer. I wish I could have gotten pictures to share. There is nothing like the wonder and beauty that God creates if we just pay attention. I'm so glad I dragged myself off the couch. I wouldn't have missed that for anything, and to share it with someone I love was just icing on the cake. I was totally blessed by the whole experience.
The sun set and it was getting dark as I went back to watching television, not near as exciting as the deer I might say, and Jim went to the bathroom. He came back to the kitchen, looked out the window, and said, "You're not going to believe this."
I said, "What now?"
He said, "The fox is back and it's out here eating with the cats."
So I guess when I first saw the fox last week and thought it was chasing a cat. It actually wasn't. The cat just happened to be running in front of it. I worried that it might be after them.
"You're kidding! It's eating WITH them?" I asked, as I started to get up again. I wanted to see this!
"It's gone now." Jim went back to looking for something to eat. "It took off when it saw me in the window."
I'm sure it came back when it felt safe. It's not afraid of Sammidog. That's for sure.
Sammidog was probably laying on the back porch with his front legs dangling off the edge watching like he usually does...unless he knows we're looking. He saves his bravery for when it matters. To impress us.
Sometimes the most awesome things happen in our on backyards. We only have to open our senses up to experience them.
I know there's a danger from wild critters, rabies being one possibility, but Foxy is gorgeous.
Anyway, I told you that to tell you about an amazing experience that Jim (hubby) and I had late yesterday afternoon. He went to the kitchen sink for something and happened to look out the window over the sink. "Sharon, come here! Hurry!" he said in a somewhat excited voice, trying not to talk too loud.
I said, "What is it?," not wanting to get up off the couch. I wondered what the cats or Sammidog were into now.
"It's two deer right here against the fence." he says. "Come here, quick!"
We live in the country with fields and woods connected to our narrow back yard. This is not a rare occurrance, but I got myself up and trudged to the sink to stand beside Jim as he pointed out the deer near the fence.
The low-setting sun was dancing off the field, haybarn, and the deer. Beautiful. About that time, three more deer came across the field to the front of the hay barn, and we spotted another one farther back, making six. None of them had antlers. Jim said they had already shed them for the season. Three of them were about half grown.
They were just fooling around and grazing as we continued to be fascinated by them. Jim said there must be another one, since they kept looking behind them. Eventually, they started ambling toward the hayfield beside the house, and as they did four more came out of the woods and across the field to join them. We counted at least ten in all.
The cats ignored the deer and continued to groom themselves. A couple of them did look around for a minute in a bored fashion, then went back to what they were doing.
Sammidog finally noticed them and trotted to the fence, barked a couple of times, and stood at attention with his question mark tail up for a minute watching them. Jim fussed because he thought Sammidog would scare them off, but the deer didn't move. No threat there.
Sammidog's gotten too fat to go through the fence and decided it wasn't worth the trouble to go around to get to the other side. He looked back at us through the window to see if we were watching, and came back to the porch. The deer went slowly on to the hayfield.
Jim suggested that we might could see them from the bedroom window facing the hayfield. We could. We sat on the corner of the bed and watched as they put on a show. I've seen them crossing behind the house many times, but I never saw them play like that before.
White tails flashed as the three half grown deer frolicked around in the golden colored sage grass in the field. They played deer tag as they ran and jumped around together, unafraid and carefree for the moment. They darted in and out of the shadows in flashes of soft brown fur and white flags, sunset highlights accenting them, as the mom's stood guard.
Eventually, they all came back up behind the house and started grazing again. We watched the deer for a while longer through the kitchen window, standing side by side, in awe at what we'd just witnessed.
I said, "Do you know how many people never get to witness anything that awesome? Or how many people would have seen it and never seen the beauty, but only prey to be shot down just for fun?"
Jim was as in awe as I was, and he used to hunt deer. I wish I could have gotten pictures to share. There is nothing like the wonder and beauty that God creates if we just pay attention. I'm so glad I dragged myself off the couch. I wouldn't have missed that for anything, and to share it with someone I love was just icing on the cake. I was totally blessed by the whole experience.
The sun set and it was getting dark as I went back to watching television, not near as exciting as the deer I might say, and Jim went to the bathroom. He came back to the kitchen, looked out the window, and said, "You're not going to believe this."
I said, "What now?"
He said, "The fox is back and it's out here eating with the cats."
So I guess when I first saw the fox last week and thought it was chasing a cat. It actually wasn't. The cat just happened to be running in front of it. I worried that it might be after them.
"You're kidding! It's eating WITH them?" I asked, as I started to get up again. I wanted to see this!
"It's gone now." Jim went back to looking for something to eat. "It took off when it saw me in the window."
I'm sure it came back when it felt safe. It's not afraid of Sammidog. That's for sure.
Sammidog was probably laying on the back porch with his front legs dangling off the edge watching like he usually does...unless he knows we're looking. He saves his bravery for when it matters. To impress us.
Sometimes the most awesome things happen in our on backyards. We only have to open our senses up to experience them.
Monday, March 23, 2009
One Minute Writer-Imitation
Today's one-minute writer prompt is: It is said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. If so, who would you like to imitate, and in what way?
I wrote:
"Aside from Jesus, there are many people who have traits that I admire, but I'm old enough now that I just want to have the courage to be a good version of myself."
Being ourselves is not an easy task. :)
I wrote:
"Aside from Jesus, there are many people who have traits that I admire, but I'm old enough now that I just want to have the courage to be a good version of myself."
Being ourselves is not an easy task. :)
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Accident Prone, Rubber Bumpers, and a PS
I have had a week of minor mishaps. So far I haven't broken anything, knock on wood. :)
Sunday night I started to bed and knocked the clock off the bedside table right onto the top of my big toe. Boy, did that hurt! And, yes, I said the S word. :) Not proud of it, but out it came.
I was holding my foot and dancing around in pain while hubby shouted from the living room, "What did you do?"
He got aggravated because I didn't answer him right away. I just had a throbbing toe and was getting nauseaus. Not easy to answer, dance, and try to keep from being sick at the same time. He finally came to see about me. By this time I was laying on the bed massaging my toe, which was turning black, and I was feeling sick.
He said I should be more careful and went back to watch TV. Like I would deliberately try to break my toe.
The next day, Monday, the toe hurt from top to bottom when I walked, and I wasn't sure I could stand a shoe on it, but I put on socks and my crocks to go outside and feed Sammi and the cats. It wasn't too bad.
I was walking amidst a group of cats and Sammi was being his usual hyper self. I had already petted him, which sends him into super hyper-activity. He was running wide open in circles around me as fast and hard as he could. Sammi is solid as a rock and sounds like a horse galloping when he runs.
All of a sudden he whipped across in front of me, right against the fronts of my legs. Down I went. Fell right over where he had been, onto my all fours. Hard! Luckily, I fell between the rocks we use as steps, but I'm a heavy weight and it jarred me good. The canister of cat/dog food dropped and most of the feed went on the ground.
Three of the cats were so concerned about me being down that Loopy came from behind and stood between my knees and began eating while I was trying to get my bearings. Tigger-Top was against my knee on the outside and Ringer was facing me, all eating like it was perfectly natural for me to be on my all-fours in the mud. Sammidog lay down a little piece away with a quizzical look on his face, trying to figure out what in the world I was doing.
I got up and scraped up most of the spilled feed and continued across the yard, with muddy knees and hands, and Sammidog jumping for joy beside me. I got them fed and came back inside the house. Jim was sitting on the couch waking up. I said,"Well, I'm okay from my fall."
Jim asks,"How did you fall."
"I fell over Sammidog," says I.
"I'll say to my time,"says he.
I was a little stiff and sore in my joints from the fall, but we went grocery shopping at Kroger's and did a lot of walking, which wears me out even when I'm not sore from a fall and have a sore, blue toe.
When we got home I was helping bring groceries in and started down the ramp. Sammidog was so excited to see us that he ran against me from the side, knocking me off balance. My feet got crossed up and I fell against the brick wall of our house. I was glad it was there though. Otherwise I would have hit the ground again. I got an armload of groceries, brought them into the house, and stayed. I let Jim bring the rest in and I put them away. My shoulder was a little wonky feeling though. I sat down on the couch and didn't move until bedtime.
I made the mistake of getting on the scales Tuesday morning. I had gained three and a half pounds, which depressed me and made me angry at myself for eating so much ice cream here lately. I'm already borderline diabetic, which scares me, but apparently not enough. I just keep eating.
One of my best friends came for a visit Wednesday evening, and as I walked her to her car, Sammidog, who was playing tag back and forth between us, jumped at my hand and I jammed my middle finger against the same brick wall. It hurt at the time, but no lasting damage.
This morning I came back in from feeding Sammi and the cats, and just as I was passing the kitchen counter Jim said something to me, and I warped the back of my hand on the corner of the counter top. More dancing and trying not to talk ugly. My hand went numb for a minute, then had a little dented scratch in a blue spot to decorate it. It now matches my toe.
So, as of this afternoon, my right big toe is blue and sore, my lower back, upper arm muscles, and thighs are still a little sore and stiff, my right shoulder is a little sore, my right middle finger knuckle is a little sore, the back of my right hand has a blue spot with a dent in it and is a little sore, and I'm getting fatter. Jim is threatening to put rubber bumpers on me to keep me safe.
I am so lucky that I didn't break something though. Hopefully, I won't. I am a little accident prone anyway, but I think Sammidog is out to get me. Just kidding. He is such a happy, excited puppy and he means no harm. He's just trying to play.
Jim took him on a long walk around the farm yesterday evening checking fences. He thought it would let Sammidog run some energy off. Jim came back pooped and Sammi was still going full speed ahead. He's a hoot. Just way too much energy for old retired folks. :)
Hopefully, I'll make it through the next few days without any more mishaps. Have a great weekend!
Happy Birthday, Daddy! Miss You So Much!
PS--Thursday night after I posted this, I tripped and fell as I started down the hall. Jim was laying in his recliner and I caught on his legs or I would have hit the floor on my all fours again. He just looked at me and shook his head.
Then this morning I was taking a shower and a tube of shampoo fell off the shower shelf and hit me on the toe on my other foot. The idea of a foam rubber outfit is beginning to sound appealing.
Am I jinxed or what? Some weeks are just like that I guess. Thank the Lord, I'm still not broken. I hate to think what might have happened if my guardian angel wasn't watching over me. :)
Sunday night I started to bed and knocked the clock off the bedside table right onto the top of my big toe. Boy, did that hurt! And, yes, I said the S word. :) Not proud of it, but out it came.
I was holding my foot and dancing around in pain while hubby shouted from the living room, "What did you do?"
He got aggravated because I didn't answer him right away. I just had a throbbing toe and was getting nauseaus. Not easy to answer, dance, and try to keep from being sick at the same time. He finally came to see about me. By this time I was laying on the bed massaging my toe, which was turning black, and I was feeling sick.
He said I should be more careful and went back to watch TV. Like I would deliberately try to break my toe.
The next day, Monday, the toe hurt from top to bottom when I walked, and I wasn't sure I could stand a shoe on it, but I put on socks and my crocks to go outside and feed Sammi and the cats. It wasn't too bad.
I was walking amidst a group of cats and Sammi was being his usual hyper self. I had already petted him, which sends him into super hyper-activity. He was running wide open in circles around me as fast and hard as he could. Sammi is solid as a rock and sounds like a horse galloping when he runs.
All of a sudden he whipped across in front of me, right against the fronts of my legs. Down I went. Fell right over where he had been, onto my all fours. Hard! Luckily, I fell between the rocks we use as steps, but I'm a heavy weight and it jarred me good. The canister of cat/dog food dropped and most of the feed went on the ground.
Three of the cats were so concerned about me being down that Loopy came from behind and stood between my knees and began eating while I was trying to get my bearings. Tigger-Top was against my knee on the outside and Ringer was facing me, all eating like it was perfectly natural for me to be on my all-fours in the mud. Sammidog lay down a little piece away with a quizzical look on his face, trying to figure out what in the world I was doing.
I got up and scraped up most of the spilled feed and continued across the yard, with muddy knees and hands, and Sammidog jumping for joy beside me. I got them fed and came back inside the house. Jim was sitting on the couch waking up. I said,"Well, I'm okay from my fall."
Jim asks,"How did you fall."
"I fell over Sammidog," says I.
"I'll say to my time,"says he.
I was a little stiff and sore in my joints from the fall, but we went grocery shopping at Kroger's and did a lot of walking, which wears me out even when I'm not sore from a fall and have a sore, blue toe.
When we got home I was helping bring groceries in and started down the ramp. Sammidog was so excited to see us that he ran against me from the side, knocking me off balance. My feet got crossed up and I fell against the brick wall of our house. I was glad it was there though. Otherwise I would have hit the ground again. I got an armload of groceries, brought them into the house, and stayed. I let Jim bring the rest in and I put them away. My shoulder was a little wonky feeling though. I sat down on the couch and didn't move until bedtime.
I made the mistake of getting on the scales Tuesday morning. I had gained three and a half pounds, which depressed me and made me angry at myself for eating so much ice cream here lately. I'm already borderline diabetic, which scares me, but apparently not enough. I just keep eating.
One of my best friends came for a visit Wednesday evening, and as I walked her to her car, Sammidog, who was playing tag back and forth between us, jumped at my hand and I jammed my middle finger against the same brick wall. It hurt at the time, but no lasting damage.
This morning I came back in from feeding Sammi and the cats, and just as I was passing the kitchen counter Jim said something to me, and I warped the back of my hand on the corner of the counter top. More dancing and trying not to talk ugly. My hand went numb for a minute, then had a little dented scratch in a blue spot to decorate it. It now matches my toe.
So, as of this afternoon, my right big toe is blue and sore, my lower back, upper arm muscles, and thighs are still a little sore and stiff, my right shoulder is a little sore, my right middle finger knuckle is a little sore, the back of my right hand has a blue spot with a dent in it and is a little sore, and I'm getting fatter. Jim is threatening to put rubber bumpers on me to keep me safe.
I am so lucky that I didn't break something though. Hopefully, I won't. I am a little accident prone anyway, but I think Sammidog is out to get me. Just kidding. He is such a happy, excited puppy and he means no harm. He's just trying to play.
Jim took him on a long walk around the farm yesterday evening checking fences. He thought it would let Sammidog run some energy off. Jim came back pooped and Sammi was still going full speed ahead. He's a hoot. Just way too much energy for old retired folks. :)
Hopefully, I'll make it through the next few days without any more mishaps. Have a great weekend!
Happy Birthday, Daddy! Miss You So Much!
PS--Thursday night after I posted this, I tripped and fell as I started down the hall. Jim was laying in his recliner and I caught on his legs or I would have hit the floor on my all fours again. He just looked at me and shook his head.
Then this morning I was taking a shower and a tube of shampoo fell off the shower shelf and hit me on the toe on my other foot. The idea of a foam rubber outfit is beginning to sound appealing.
Am I jinxed or what? Some weeks are just like that I guess. Thank the Lord, I'm still not broken. I hate to think what might have happened if my guardian angel wasn't watching over me. :)
Friday, January 30, 2009
Writing a Novel and The Happy Dance!
First 3 completed chapters of my novelI didn't tell y'all that I just finished a two year course on novel writing with Long Ridge Writers Group. This last assignment was actually way late and was really a challenge to get myself to do.
It was the business part of the course and included a query letter, a cover letter, a synopsis of the whole novel, a publisher's form, a revision of one of the chapters that I had already written and sent in to the instructor, plus a letter to the instructor. This part was not fun and I kept procrastinating. I finally got tired of it hanging over me, hoisted up my bloomers, and got it done and emailed to my instructor, who nearly died of a heart attack because he finally got an assignment from me. :) I started not to finish it, but now I'm so proud of myself for doing it and am awaiting my diploma.
This will be my second diploma from LRWG. I took the Breaking Into Print course on writing short stories and articles a few years ago, and it was worth every penny.
I really enjoyed writing the short stories and articles, and actually got a few of them published online. I found out early on in the novel writing course that I'm not sure that I have the patience to write a whole novel. Maybe if I'd written the rough draft of the whole novel to start with I'd feel differently.
For the novel writing course I only had to complete the first three chapters, plus plot lines, outlines, etc. I had to present two ideas and get the instructor's input, which was that he thought they were both good ideas with good characterization, and that either would be marketable. He left it up to me to pick one.
I chose to base the novel on a short story that I had written for the first course. The working title is "DANCING A DREAM." It is about an obese, thirty year old woman, named Fedora Isabella Quintana, nicknamed Fizzy, who lives to dance and still dreams of being a professional dancer.
I don't want to tell too much about it here, because I might decide to finish the whole novel and don't want to give away anything, but it is about five years of Fizzy and her best friend's lives. There is a little mystery, romance, setbacks, adventure, humor, and a lot of dream chasing in it.
I actually have written two short stories with these two characters, and everyone who has read them has enjoyed them. They have both almost been published. I would love to post them here, but that might hamper them ever getting published when I start submitting again. I haven't submitted anything in a while, but I plan on starting again soon.
My instructor encouraged me to finish the novel and submit it. He thinks it has a good plot line, interesting characters, and a good chance at getting published. Right now I don't think I have the patience for all the reivisions of that many chapters. I almost got burned out on the first three. I prefer short stories or personal experience pieces, but who knows, I already have a good start on the novel, so when I've rested a while on it I may just finish it...or maybe I'll write one on the other idea I had about the cat lady. We'll see.
Anyway, I'm proud of me for finishing the course. I have too many other works in progress going on as it is. Trust me, I did the happy dance as soon as I finished. :)
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sammidog Rules the Roost...For The Time Being (an update)
Well, Sammidog has been with us almost three months now, and he almost has me trained.
For those of you who haven't read the post (under the label of Sammidog) about how he came to live with us, he came trudging up through the garden one morning so starved that you could see every bone in his body, and he could barely stand up he was so malnourished. Mama gave him some dog food, but her dog let him know quickly that he wasn't staying there. He followed Mama to my house. I fed him some milk and fixed him a bed and now we can't peel him off us. :)
The cats had their bluff in on him for a few weeks. I started out feeding them seperately, but Sammidog would follow me to feed them, where he promptly and frequently got his jaws boxed. Then they got to swapping food, so now I just feed them all together. They get along pretty well. He sits amidst the cats, towering over them, waiting patiently when it's feeding time. As soon as the door opens though, he's all over me.
I declare he has flubber in his paws, the way he's continually jumping straight up, sometimes doing half-twists in mid-air. He looks like he's on a trampoline. It's very funny, but sometimes frustrating, especially when we're dressed to go somewhere and all of a sudden we have muddy paw prints on our butts. One of Sammidog's favorite things is to run up from behind, tap us on the butt with his front paws, then take off like he's playing tag.
He loves everybody, including the cats, and is more than a little overly zealous. I hear him yelp several times a day when the cats have had enough. I have scolded him repeatedly about the jumping up on people, but he is so hyper that he just can't contain himself. If he were a child, he'd probably be on Ridlin or something.
And stubborn. If you looked up the word in the dictionary, his picture would be there. I can call him all day long and if he doesn't want to come...he isn't going to. I think he's been taking lessons from the cats.
When he first came I could carry him in one arm, he was so light. Not now. He's solid as a rock and I can barely pick him up. He's also very strong. Sometimes, he nearly knocks me over.
He's also still puppy enough that whatever he can get hold of he tears up all over the yard. Our back yard looks really bad right now. I bought him rawhide toys and they disappeared. I don't know if he lost them, or dismantled them. He dismantles everything, including the antlered deer skull in my flower bed that I found in the hayfield and put there.
He gets so bored with nobody to play with that tearing up stuff is how he entertains himself. Anything we set down, he grabs and takes off with, and he totes stuff out of the car shed and throws it around if he can't tear it up. I told Jim that I expect anytime to see him coming out with the chainsaw.
Jim has been away working most of the time since Sammidog has been here, and it's been so cold and bad that I haven't been out much to spend a lot of time with him. Jim has one more week before he'll be retired and spring will be here soon. Maybe then we can get him under control.
He loves to go walking in the woods and fields, preferably if we're walking too. Sometimes he runs alongside when I'm on the four-wheeler, sometimes not. Depends on the stubborn factor that day.
Mama bought Sammidog this woolly lined coat for Christmas. She thought it would be funny. You can tell that he wasn't amused at all. It was a little snug. He posed for me to take a couple of pictures, then started rolling and chewing to get it off. Within a few minutes the coat was laying on the ground and he had gone to bed in his insulated house.
The only time Sammidog is still is when he's being scratched on his chest or when he's having his picture taken. He's a camera ham and when he sees one aimed at him he will hold still and pose...most of the time. If I'm scratching his chest he will wrap both front paws around my arm and sit still as long as I scratch.
Despite some bad habits and his hyperactivity, he's a delightful dog. He keeps us laughing, and he has this mischievous way of looking at you sideways, almost like he's flirting, that gets him some petting almost every time.
I've always preferred smaller woolly dogs, but Sammidog is okay, and since nobody ever came looking for him, I guess we belong to him.
For those of you who haven't read the post (under the label of Sammidog) about how he came to live with us, he came trudging up through the garden one morning so starved that you could see every bone in his body, and he could barely stand up he was so malnourished. Mama gave him some dog food, but her dog let him know quickly that he wasn't staying there. He followed Mama to my house. I fed him some milk and fixed him a bed and now we can't peel him off us. :)
The cats had their bluff in on him for a few weeks. I started out feeding them seperately, but Sammidog would follow me to feed them, where he promptly and frequently got his jaws boxed. Then they got to swapping food, so now I just feed them all together. They get along pretty well. He sits amidst the cats, towering over them, waiting patiently when it's feeding time. As soon as the door opens though, he's all over me.I declare he has flubber in his paws, the way he's continually jumping straight up, sometimes doing half-twists in mid-air. He looks like he's on a trampoline. It's very funny, but sometimes frustrating, especially when we're dressed to go somewhere and all of a sudden we have muddy paw prints on our butts. One of Sammidog's favorite things is to run up from behind, tap us on the butt with his front paws, then take off like he's playing tag.
He loves everybody, including the cats, and is more than a little overly zealous. I hear him yelp several times a day when the cats have had enough. I have scolded him repeatedly about the jumping up on people, but he is so hyper that he just can't contain himself. If he were a child, he'd probably be on Ridlin or something.
And stubborn. If you looked up the word in the dictionary, his picture would be there. I can call him all day long and if he doesn't want to come...he isn't going to. I think he's been taking lessons from the cats.
When he first came I could carry him in one arm, he was so light. Not now. He's solid as a rock and I can barely pick him up. He's also very strong. Sometimes, he nearly knocks me over.
He's also still puppy enough that whatever he can get hold of he tears up all over the yard. Our back yard looks really bad right now. I bought him rawhide toys and they disappeared. I don't know if he lost them, or dismantled them. He dismantles everything, including the antlered deer skull in my flower bed that I found in the hayfield and put there.
He gets so bored with nobody to play with that tearing up stuff is how he entertains himself. Anything we set down, he grabs and takes off with, and he totes stuff out of the car shed and throws it around if he can't tear it up. I told Jim that I expect anytime to see him coming out with the chainsaw.
Jim has been away working most of the time since Sammidog has been here, and it's been so cold and bad that I haven't been out much to spend a lot of time with him. Jim has one more week before he'll be retired and spring will be here soon. Maybe then we can get him under control.
He loves to go walking in the woods and fields, preferably if we're walking too. Sometimes he runs alongside when I'm on the four-wheeler, sometimes not. Depends on the stubborn factor that day.
Mama bought Sammidog this woolly lined coat for Christmas. She thought it would be funny. You can tell that he wasn't amused at all. It was a little snug. He posed for me to take a couple of pictures, then started rolling and chewing to get it off. Within a few minutes the coat was laying on the ground and he had gone to bed in his insulated house.The only time Sammidog is still is when he's being scratched on his chest or when he's having his picture taken. He's a camera ham and when he sees one aimed at him he will hold still and pose...most of the time. If I'm scratching his chest he will wrap both front paws around my arm and sit still as long as I scratch.
Despite some bad habits and his hyperactivity, he's a delightful dog. He keeps us laughing, and he has this mischievous way of looking at you sideways, almost like he's flirting, that gets him some petting almost every time.
I've always preferred smaller woolly dogs, but Sammidog is okay, and since nobody ever came looking for him, I guess we belong to him.
The saga continues...
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Play-fulness In Art & Writing
I find myself having a hard time getting started back to writing or drawing in the new year. I had the habit of drawing/writing something every morning while I had my first cup of coffee. The holidays have thrown that off a bit it seems. I've gone from "couldn't wait to get started" to "finding it difficult or downright impossible to start."This brings me to a question Leah asked in a post, and since I'm participating in her Creative Every Day Challenge this year I thought I'd share my answer here.
The question was, "How do you return to playfulness when your creations are getting stiff?"
Instead of having a chance for my work to get stiff, I tend to get blocked. Sometimes I get stuck before I even start and sometimes it's half way through the project.
I love to do stream of consciousness writing, and if I do it a couple of days in a row that usually unlocks my writing and gets me going again.
Tammy in the Mojoart group introduced me to touch drawing the winter my dad died, four years ago. She shared her story about a technique that she had learned in art therapy. I looked it up on the net and tried it. I was hooked. I made dozens of drawings over the next couple of years. It not only helped my art, it helped me survive those years when we were hit with one trauma after another.
Touch drawing only requires your fingers, ink, thin paper, and an inking board. It helps if you meditate and center yourself first. You spread a very thin layer of printers ink over your board with a brayer, lay your paper down gently over the ink, and tapping into your inner self, let your feelings come out through your fingers and hands onto the back of the paper. You can use both hands at once if you want.
It's amazing what images come out when you pull the paper up and turn it over. Each drawing tells a story, which you can write out if you want. You can also add color to them. Each drawing is numbered in the order you drew them during your session. I can line all of mine up in order from all of my sessions and see a progression from grief and anger to acceptance and healing.
I haven't done any for a while, but they sure did help my creativity and my sanity during a rough time. The Center for Touch Drawing has a website with a demo if you're interested.
Another thing I learned this past year was from Judi Russell's website. She shares her art journaling technique, where you center yourself, close your eyes, try not to think about what your pencil is doing, and let it glide lightly over the paper making different shapes, lines, circles, etc.
When you're done, you open your eyes and study the shapes until an image emerges that means something to you. When it does, you darken the lines of the image, add lines, words/phrases, faces, enhancements, etc. to bring it out as far as you want to. Go over the image lines with an ultra fine black sharpie. Then you can color it if you like. You can also journal about what the image means to you.
Judi does have a gallery of her art journal drawings and some of her paintings that derived from the drawings. I have a tutorial of sorts on my Moxie Blue website under the label "quirky art journal instructions." However, my images look nothing like hers. :)
I've been doing at least one of these a day since last April and I have over 325 now. I am constantly amazed at the images I pull out of a bunch of shapes and lines, but they have inspired dozens of ideas for paintings and stories for writing for me.
I tend to take everything waaaaaay too seriously and these techniques are a lot of fun to me because I don't worry about everything being perfect or good enough. I just relax and let things flow. I always come away from these "play" times feeling more relaxed and confident about my art and writing.
As a matter of fact, writing about play time with art/writing has put me in the mood to do some. See you later! Have a creative day!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Four Things About Me
I found this little meme on Pattie's blog, and since she left an open invitation at the end to play along, I thought I'd share a little more about me. I hope I can make it, at least, a little interesting.
"Krisket's Rose"
Four Things I Did Today
1. A loose pen & ink sketch of a woman on TV, which looked nothing like her, by the way
2. Rode the ATV to the mailbox and then down in the fields to check the cattle and make sure they have enough to eat-They do.
3. Wormed a kitten and got a flea collar on the dog that adopted us, then played with them. I've been trying to teach the dog to bring his rawhide bone back to me when I throw it. Every time I throw it the dog and all the cats run to it-Very funny, but nobody brings it back to me.
4. Mailed one of my best friends a BD card, visited with another on the phone, and spent time with my mom--That's more than 4 isn't it? But that's ok!
Four Things On My To Do List
1. Address Christmas cards and do my Christmas shopping
2. Finish the last assignment in my novel writing course--The biggest thing I learned is that I don't have the patience to write a novel-I'll stick with short stories, thank you. :)
3. Finish the myriad art and craft projects that I have in progress
4. Catch up my ironing and de-clutter the house
Four Of My Guilty Pleasures
1. I love art museums. I just feel in awe every time I go in one.
2. Books and rock/blues music--I often wish I'd get locked in a bookstore for the night-
3. Painting and Writing--I always think I should be cleaning or something
4. ICE CREAM/YOGURT and TV--and my body shows it
Four Random Facts About Me
1. I loved to play teacher to my dolls & stuffed animals when I was little. I wish I had the courage to do it for real now. I would love to share what little I know about writing & art.
2. I had polio and was totally paralyzed for a few days when I was two years old. I was left with a permanant limp, but I was still lucky. I could always do anything that I wanted to.
3. I've always been a tomboy. Sometimes I like girly-girl things, like makeup and jewelry, but jeans and shirts are my outfits of choice, at least they were until I got so fluffy...
4. I went to college for the first time at age 47, and I lack about 6 credits having a BS degree. It's now 12 years later and I'm still thinking about finishing it.
Enough about me. You're welcome to share four things about you. Please let me know if you play. I'd love to read it. :)
"Krisket's Rose"Four Things I Did Today
1. A loose pen & ink sketch of a woman on TV, which looked nothing like her, by the way
2. Rode the ATV to the mailbox and then down in the fields to check the cattle and make sure they have enough to eat-They do.
3. Wormed a kitten and got a flea collar on the dog that adopted us, then played with them. I've been trying to teach the dog to bring his rawhide bone back to me when I throw it. Every time I throw it the dog and all the cats run to it-Very funny, but nobody brings it back to me.
4. Mailed one of my best friends a BD card, visited with another on the phone, and spent time with my mom--That's more than 4 isn't it? But that's ok!
Four Things On My To Do List
1. Address Christmas cards and do my Christmas shopping
2. Finish the last assignment in my novel writing course--The biggest thing I learned is that I don't have the patience to write a novel-I'll stick with short stories, thank you. :)
3. Finish the myriad art and craft projects that I have in progress
4. Catch up my ironing and de-clutter the house
Four Of My Guilty Pleasures
1. I love art museums. I just feel in awe every time I go in one.
2. Books and rock/blues music--I often wish I'd get locked in a bookstore for the night-
3. Painting and Writing--I always think I should be cleaning or something
4. ICE CREAM/YOGURT and TV--and my body shows it
Four Random Facts About Me
1. I loved to play teacher to my dolls & stuffed animals when I was little. I wish I had the courage to do it for real now. I would love to share what little I know about writing & art.
2. I had polio and was totally paralyzed for a few days when I was two years old. I was left with a permanant limp, but I was still lucky. I could always do anything that I wanted to.
3. I've always been a tomboy. Sometimes I like girly-girl things, like makeup and jewelry, but jeans and shirts are my outfits of choice, at least they were until I got so fluffy...
4. I went to college for the first time at age 47, and I lack about 6 credits having a BS degree. It's now 12 years later and I'm still thinking about finishing it.
Enough about me. You're welcome to share four things about you. Please let me know if you play. I'd love to read it. :)
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Some Published Stories
I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving. I did. It was just mama and me this year, although we were invited to a couple of places. All I wanted was dressing and mashed potatoes. Mama cooked and, of course, added some other dishes, plus one of my favorite pies that we've always just called "just pie", which was delicious. We just spent a quiet evening together. Jim missed being with family, but he had a nice dinner with his towboat family, and he called home and talked to us. We have a lot to be thankful for. :)
I was going to post a whole story that I had published today, but I have too much else to do, including working on the last assignment of a writing course that's waaaaaaaaay overdue, so I thought I'd post the links to some of my published writing that is still in the ezine's archives.
I haven't submitted anything in quiet a while, but hopefully that will change soon. Most of my friends and family have read these already, but I wanted to share them with my new blogging friends, so if you need something to do for a few minutes, the links are below. They are all true personal experience pieces except "The Power Of A Teabag," which is totally fiction.
The Pink Chameleon published me first, and I was so thrilled.
"A Slice Of Heaven" http://www.geocities.com/thepinkchameleon/archive/heaven.html
Long Story Short has published four of my pieces.
"The Great Grey Hunter" http://www.alongstoryshort.net/THEGREATGREYHUNTER.html
"The Mouse Caper" http://www.alongstoryshort.net/TheMouseCaper.html
"How Old Are You Anyway?" http://www.alongstoryshort.net/howoldareyouanyway.html
"The Power Of A Teabag" http://www.alongstoryshort.net/ThePowerofaTeabag.html
Applecart also published me, but they are no longer publishing.
Thanks for checking them out, and I hope you enjoyed them, because I loved writing them! :)
I was going to post a whole story that I had published today, but I have too much else to do, including working on the last assignment of a writing course that's waaaaaaaaay overdue, so I thought I'd post the links to some of my published writing that is still in the ezine's archives.
I haven't submitted anything in quiet a while, but hopefully that will change soon. Most of my friends and family have read these already, but I wanted to share them with my new blogging friends, so if you need something to do for a few minutes, the links are below. They are all true personal experience pieces except "The Power Of A Teabag," which is totally fiction.
The Pink Chameleon published me first, and I was so thrilled.
"A Slice Of Heaven" http://www.geocities.com/thepinkchameleon/archive/heaven.html
Long Story Short has published four of my pieces.
"The Great Grey Hunter" http://www.alongstoryshort.net/THEGREATGREYHUNTER.html
"The Mouse Caper" http://www.alongstoryshort.net/TheMouseCaper.html
"How Old Are You Anyway?" http://www.alongstoryshort.net/howoldareyouanyway.html
"The Power Of A Teabag" http://www.alongstoryshort.net/ThePowerofaTeabag.html
Applecart also published me, but they are no longer publishing.
Thanks for checking them out, and I hope you enjoyed them, because I loved writing them! :)
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sammie-Dog Finds a Home
Meet Sammi-Dog...He arrived on Rabbit Hop last week.
Mama, who lives next door, saw him coming up through the garden the middle of last week with his chin and tail dragging the ground. She happened to be feeding her cats and dog at the time, so that's where he went first. He was so starved that he could barely walk and his head and ears were covered in big ticks. She felt sorry for him and fed him and picked some of the ticks off, but her dog, Auger (another stray in bad shape that found a home), who has been around a long time, let him know quickly that he wasn't welcome there.
This is not an uncommon occurrance. We live in a rural area out in the country, so dropped/stray animals are always showing up. Over the years a number of them have become pets. Others just pass through and keep going.
Neither of us wanted another dog. I haven't wanted another one since I had to have the last one euthanized, eleven years ago. I still haven't gotten over that one.
The next day he followed her to my house, barely able to walk, his eyes very dull and lifeless. It's hard to tell from the pictures, but his sides were sunk in as far as they could sink, his backbone and ribs were sticking out. None of us thought he would live through the night.
I have never been fond of any kind of hound, and, as I said, I didn't want a dog of any kind. I have cats and cows. I sure didn't want another house dog. But there was something about this pup and those eyes that just melted me, and I was a goner. Jim and mama too.
I gave him a bowl of warm milk and fixed him a warm bed on the back porch. He was never afraid of us or the cats, though if he got too close to the older ones he would get slapped and made to yelp. Needless to say, I had to stay with him to keep the cats back. They like milk too, but they're not starving.
He lapped up the milk and crawled right into the bed. For a couple of days he only got out of bed if I went out, to eat, or take a bathroom break. He looked like a Sammie to me, so that became his name.
Due to malnutrition he had no winter coat or fat on his body, and one day it was cool and damp. He shook a lot, some from cold or shock, even with cover, and some from nerves. This day I happened to remember that I still had my last dog's (a Pekingese) sweater, so I put that on him. He didn't mind a bit. You would have thought he'd worn one his whole life. Maybe he had. I don't know. No idea where he came from.
Anyway he has continually gained strength and is now literally bouncing around like a rubber ball, tripping all over himself and any cat or person that happens to be near. He gallops now instead of weaving when he walks. His eyes are bright and sparkly. He and the cats get along good. He has a great personality, is very smart, and he's really funny, and expressive, if he is a little undisciplined.
Of course Jim is working so it's up to me to train him. At least he's old enough that he's not going to tear up everything...I think.
Yesterday when I went on the four-wheeler to check the cows I got him to follow me part of the way, but either he didn't understand what I was asking him to do, or he wanted to ride. I saw it as a way for him to work off some energy. He decided not and came back to the house. When I got back I walked him and the cats around our acre yard a couple of times. They loved it. Sammie-Dog had his nose to the ground trailing everything, including the cats. Wore me out.
Sammie-Dog was still bouncing. I have been needing to start exercising. Maybe he is the prod I needed to get started.
The grey and white spotted kitten, whose name is Spotty-Butt, and who carries her fuzzy tail laying flat on her back, has taken to Sammie-Dog too and rubs on him and sits with him or by his bed. He, for the most part, ignores her. I keep expecting to find her in bed with him one morning. She's a character too, but that's another story.
He's a great little dog, at least I hope he's about grown. I prefer small dogs. I noticed this morning that his fur is getting thicker and you can hardly see his ribs now that he's getting some fat on his bones. He doesn't care for dog food much though since he's not starving now. He apparently had been used to table scraps. That's what he prefers, but we don't have many, so he's going to have to get used to dog food.
I catch him standing in the driveway sometimes looking back over his shoulder like he wants to stay, but feels he should go. Maybe he's remembering his other family. Maybe they lost him and are looking for him too. Meanwhile we'll try to nourish him with food and attention. See the the pink dog food all over his chin.
I had a very hard time getting these pictures. Either Sammie-Dog would sit down right under the camera and pose, smiling, or he was against the back of my legs. I turned around so many times trying to catch him still long enough to snap the picture that I nearly got dizzy. He's an energetic goofball. Maybe it'll rub off on the rest of us. :)
Mama and Jim say I'll have him in the house before long. I don't think so, but we'll see. Will keep you posted.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Madamojell and Jessie Brown
The other day I was blog visiting and on Amanda Blake's blog I discovered this painting, which I love, and I couldn't help but giggle when I looked at it and it's title. It brought back memories of the two imaginary friends that I was blessed with as a child. Mine happened to be people, and I still have a soft place in my heart for those girls. :)
Their names were Madamojell and Jessie Brown and they were wonderful friends, always there to play with and talk to when nobody else was.
I was an only child, but there were always other children in the Rabbit Hop community to play with, plus I had lots of cousins, several around my age. Lots of sleepovers at our house too. The older girls in the neighborhood loved to spoil me. The whole community was more like family than just neighbors.
Even when I was alone, I wasn't. I had a vivid imagination, my dolls, my teddy bear, my monkey, my books, and my two friends that nobody could see or talk to except me. Mama would hear me carrying on a conversation out loud and she would ask who I was talking to.
I would look at her like she was crazy and say, "Madamojell. Can't you see her, Mama? She's sitting right there?"
Madamojell's name came from the word Madamoiselle. Mama used to call me that sometimes when I was being a little smarty pants. It stuck in my head. Only I couldn't pronounce it and it came out Madamojell. She was a free spirit; not afraid of anything or anyone. She traveled to the beat of her own song. I think, looking back, she was a combination of two older cousins and a neighbor girl that I always looked up to and loved immensely. I wanted to be just like them.
Of course, it was the fifties, and though my older friends dressed in lots of can-cans under full skirts, pony tails, bobby sox, and cardigan sweaters buttoned down the back, Madamojell dressed her thin body in long chiffon dresses, hid her long blonde hair under luscious wide brimmed hats, wore dainty gloves, and she wore lots of makeup and jewelry. She had a wonderful laugh and was very wise. At least, I thought so. She loved living and was full of self confidence.
Jessie Brown, on the other hand, was a complete opposite of Madamojell.
My older cousin, Gene, stayed with us for a while, and he had a friend named Jessie Brown ______, and I thought he was so handsome. He was dark haired, had a dark complexion, sparkling brown eyes, a great personality, and I just loved his name.
My invisible friend, however, was not sparkly. She was a lovely girl, very quiet, kind of plain looking in her dark plaid cotton dress with her long brown hair hanging down past her shoulders, her brown eyes kind of sad. She was a bit shy, a great friend, and fun to be with, even if she was afraid of her own shadow. The kind that you could sit in silence with, without feeling awkward.
The three of us spent many happy times together having tea parties, playing house, talking and laughing. Sometimes they even attended school with my dolls and stuffed animals, where they all sat lined up on the couch and listened attentively while I "read" to them from my Golden story books, the stories that mama had read to me until I had them memorized. The students enjoyed these stories immensely. (This was before I actually started school and learned to read; no kindergarten back then.) :)
As I got older, Jessie Brown disappeared. Or maybe she didn't. Maybe she has been me all these years.
Madamojell, on the other hand, still pops up often in the form of my alter ego or my creative muse.
I think she may be the me that I was always afraid to let out. Now that I'm a Senior Citizen, who knows, I may turn her loose. :)
Their names were Madamojell and Jessie Brown and they were wonderful friends, always there to play with and talk to when nobody else was.
I was an only child, but there were always other children in the Rabbit Hop community to play with, plus I had lots of cousins, several around my age. Lots of sleepovers at our house too. The older girls in the neighborhood loved to spoil me. The whole community was more like family than just neighbors.
Even when I was alone, I wasn't. I had a vivid imagination, my dolls, my teddy bear, my monkey, my books, and my two friends that nobody could see or talk to except me. Mama would hear me carrying on a conversation out loud and she would ask who I was talking to.
I would look at her like she was crazy and say, "Madamojell. Can't you see her, Mama? She's sitting right there?"
Madamojell's name came from the word Madamoiselle. Mama used to call me that sometimes when I was being a little smarty pants. It stuck in my head. Only I couldn't pronounce it and it came out Madamojell. She was a free spirit; not afraid of anything or anyone. She traveled to the beat of her own song. I think, looking back, she was a combination of two older cousins and a neighbor girl that I always looked up to and loved immensely. I wanted to be just like them.
Of course, it was the fifties, and though my older friends dressed in lots of can-cans under full skirts, pony tails, bobby sox, and cardigan sweaters buttoned down the back, Madamojell dressed her thin body in long chiffon dresses, hid her long blonde hair under luscious wide brimmed hats, wore dainty gloves, and she wore lots of makeup and jewelry. She had a wonderful laugh and was very wise. At least, I thought so. She loved living and was full of self confidence.
Jessie Brown, on the other hand, was a complete opposite of Madamojell.
My older cousin, Gene, stayed with us for a while, and he had a friend named Jessie Brown ______, and I thought he was so handsome. He was dark haired, had a dark complexion, sparkling brown eyes, a great personality, and I just loved his name.
My invisible friend, however, was not sparkly. She was a lovely girl, very quiet, kind of plain looking in her dark plaid cotton dress with her long brown hair hanging down past her shoulders, her brown eyes kind of sad. She was a bit shy, a great friend, and fun to be with, even if she was afraid of her own shadow. The kind that you could sit in silence with, without feeling awkward.
The three of us spent many happy times together having tea parties, playing house, talking and laughing. Sometimes they even attended school with my dolls and stuffed animals, where they all sat lined up on the couch and listened attentively while I "read" to them from my Golden story books, the stories that mama had read to me until I had them memorized. The students enjoyed these stories immensely. (This was before I actually started school and learned to read; no kindergarten back then.) :)
As I got older, Jessie Brown disappeared. Or maybe she didn't. Maybe she has been me all these years.
Madamojell, on the other hand, still pops up often in the form of my alter ego or my creative muse.
I think she may be the me that I was always afraid to let out. Now that I'm a Senior Citizen, who knows, I may turn her loose. :)
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