Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word.
Click the link to read the other entries-good stuff over there! This week's prompt word is: tremble.
Each week I talk, I write, I photograph. I capture moments in time that will be forgotten as soon as the papers, tossed in a corner and bound for recycling.
Capturing that one moment of small town life, it's amazing. For me, getting to tell someone's story is an honor.
A cancer survivor, wounded veterans cycling across the state, an artist with disabilities showing his work in a local exhibit. This was my week.
I am always humbled by the task of putting what I feel into words. I tremble in anticipation of the Wednesday delivery. It's my judgment day.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Saturday, October 20
Friday, August 12
If Garth Can Be Shameless, Surely I Can Too
Because of @TlanceB I have gotten dragged into this meme. Maybe it's because of Lance. Or maybe it's because I could never stand for the other kids to be cooler than me. Or uncooler than me. Or perhaps it's just that I hate being left out of anything.
When I was in my first year of college, I lived in a freshman dorm where the rooms were arranged in “suites” of 4 rooms and a large bathroom with several sinks and showers. Each room housed a pair of girls and the suite had a living room for us all to use. It was a pretty nice setup and I have to admit that although I thought my roommate was completely weird, I loved all of my other suitemates. Except eventually that girl from Texas got to us all. Then we hated her. But for the most part we all had fun and got along really well, doing everything together.
The first thing you have to know about me is that I very nearly failed most of my classes that first semester. I have never been very disciplined about homework, mainly because I was never really taught proper study skills. I made good grades, a's and b's with very little effort in high school. So I thought I could continue that into my college experience. Boy was I wrong.
However, I loved the social nature of our setup and loved spending the evenings after dinner hanging out with the girls in my suite. We'd talk about anything and everything. At first it would be the 6 of us, then one by one we'd drift off to bed or to study. I WOULD not go to bed until everyone else did. I couldn't do it. It got to the point where it was a joke. My friend Mary C. would get into bed and say “turn out the light for me, would you?” Yep. I was THAT person.
So I haven't been 'round the bloggy-sphere much lately, I have to admit. My reader is crammed full of catchup reading and I have even been neglecting the blogs that make me laugh hystericallly. I am ashamed. And I hate that I am missing out on my cyber friends lives. I don't know why I haven't been around. Part of me feels like my depression may be coming back. Another part of me thinks it maybe never left. And another part of me says that I need a swift kick in the ass and to just get out and get over it. (maybe that voice is just my mom)
So when I read the other day on Lance's blog that he was doing this 30 day meme I was excited. As I read over the list I realized that these topics were things I would enjoy and could be up for writing about every day. So the list is as follows:
30 Days of Shamelessness
- declare your love for an uncool TV show.
- look a fool.
- eat. Whatever you feel like eating.
- waste time.
- declare your love for an uncool movie.
- act “girly” or “manly” in a way you’d normally avoid.
- share your efforts at something you don’t think you do well.
- sweat.
- expose something messy or dirty you’d usually hide.
- declare your love for an uncool band.
- dress to show some skin.
- share about a health struggle.
- speak up about something crap that was done to you.
- hold yourself accountable — not guilty — for something crappy you did to someone else.
- dress, walk, and act like you know you’re all that.
- spend money on a non-necessity or share a financial struggle.
- discuss the reality of your work situation.
- brag.
- share details about a bodily function or fluid.
- talk about sex
- express a strong feeling.
- set a boundary.
- air one of your secrets.
- share a struggle you have yet to “just get over.”
- ask for help.
- make a mistake.
- express a dissenting opinion.
- discuss a failure.
- look a fool.
- name 3 more ways you can live shamelessly and commit to doing them…
Join in if you like. Let me know in the comments if you think you might so I can follow along. I think this will be a good way for me to get back into writing and reading all my favorite blogs. I will cover all 30 days, though they may not be 30 days in a row. I shall do my best. Honestly....
Thursday, July 28
Here's to Hope!
Last night Nashville television viewers said goodbye to long time local sports anchor Hope Hines. Hope was a staple, having been on the air at Nashville's CBS affiliate since the early 1970's. I don't mind saying, that's about as long as I can remember.
For whatever reason, during all my years in Nashville I was a "News Channel 5" girl. If I turned on the evening news it was for then national anchor Dan Rather, and if I turned on local news it was to see Chris Clark, Amy Marsalis, Ron Howes, and Hope Hines. I am not sure what fixed this preference, although my parents still watch all their news on Channel 5 so it must have started there.
One thing I found interesting during our move to Pennsylvania is how attached we become to our local anchors and other news people. In the beginning it was disconcerting enough to have to watch news in an area I knew nothing about. I didn't get the traffic reports, I didn't know the townships or the local officials. Harrisburg was a much smaller market than Nashville and their newsrooms (and the on-air broadcasters) seemed like amateur hour in comparison to those in Nashville. Add to that being in a different time zone and having the evening news come on at 11 rather than 10....well, I felt like my life was in an uproar.
When you think about it, we allow these people into our homes every day. They bring us the information we need to plan, to live, and to be informed about what is going on in our community. Although now I am about an hour from Nashville, I still watch the Nashville news every morning and evening. There's something so comforting about being back and being able to watch those familiar faces again. Even though Chris Clark (legendary local news anchor since the 60's) retired while we were gone, they did me the favor of hiring a younger look-a-like version, just to keep us all comfortable.
I remember years ago hubby and I were in the Carribean, winding up the vacation from hell. (that's an entire post on its own) We moved into a nice hotel for the final 2 days of our vacation after sleeping 3 nights in an outdoor cabin on a mountainside with nothing but a concrete floor, a roof, and screened walls around it. When we arrived at our luxurious room and both took long, hot showers and each collapsed on our own clean fluffy bed. We were so delighted to turn on the TV and find who else but Chris Clark doing the Nashville news via satellite. There was something about that which provided comfort and allowed us to relax and enjoy our final two days. I can't explain it.
So here's to Hope Hines and all the other local news people. You let us all in. Let us all feel as though we somehow know you. Thank you for coming into our homes everyday and keeping us informed. And sometimes making us laugh. Watching the tribute show last night it seemed apparent that Hope was every bit as congenial in real life as he is on the screen. Always joking, willing to be humble and laugh at himself, and friendly with everyone around him.
What am I gonna do this football season? No Coach Fisher. No Hope Hines. It's not gonna be right. Mike Keith, you better not retire anytime soon. There's only so much change a girl can deal with.
We're gonna miss ya', Hope! And JB, too!
For whatever reason, during all my years in Nashville I was a "News Channel 5" girl. If I turned on the evening news it was for then national anchor Dan Rather, and if I turned on local news it was to see Chris Clark, Amy Marsalis, Ron Howes, and Hope Hines. I am not sure what fixed this preference, although my parents still watch all their news on Channel 5 so it must have started there.
One thing I found interesting during our move to Pennsylvania is how attached we become to our local anchors and other news people. In the beginning it was disconcerting enough to have to watch news in an area I knew nothing about. I didn't get the traffic reports, I didn't know the townships or the local officials. Harrisburg was a much smaller market than Nashville and their newsrooms (and the on-air broadcasters) seemed like amateur hour in comparison to those in Nashville. Add to that being in a different time zone and having the evening news come on at 11 rather than 10....well, I felt like my life was in an uproar.
When you think about it, we allow these people into our homes every day. They bring us the information we need to plan, to live, and to be informed about what is going on in our community. Although now I am about an hour from Nashville, I still watch the Nashville news every morning and evening. There's something so comforting about being back and being able to watch those familiar faces again. Even though Chris Clark (legendary local news anchor since the 60's) retired while we were gone, they did me the favor of hiring a younger look-a-like version, just to keep us all comfortable.
I remember years ago hubby and I were in the Carribean, winding up the vacation from hell. (that's an entire post on its own) We moved into a nice hotel for the final 2 days of our vacation after sleeping 3 nights in an outdoor cabin on a mountainside with nothing but a concrete floor, a roof, and screened walls around it. When we arrived at our luxurious room and both took long, hot showers and each collapsed on our own clean fluffy bed. We were so delighted to turn on the TV and find who else but Chris Clark doing the Nashville news via satellite. There was something about that which provided comfort and allowed us to relax and enjoy our final two days. I can't explain it.
So here's to Hope Hines and all the other local news people. You let us all in. Let us all feel as though we somehow know you. Thank you for coming into our homes everyday and keeping us informed. And sometimes making us laugh. Watching the tribute show last night it seemed apparent that Hope was every bit as congenial in real life as he is on the screen. Always joking, willing to be humble and laugh at himself, and friendly with everyone around him.
What am I gonna do this football season? No Coach Fisher. No Hope Hines. It's not gonna be right. Mike Keith, you better not retire anytime soon. There's only so much change a girl can deal with.
We're gonna miss ya', Hope! And JB, too!
Saturday, April 16
You Gotta Have....Friends!
Whew! This week is finally over and I personally could not be happier. Now I just have to get through the weekend and I can start anew on Monday.
This has been a stressful week for many reasons. I had several design projects that clients wanted wrapped up and finished after months of not hearing from them. So Monday was spent struggling with that, a long day hunched over the computer keyboard in my less-than-ergonomic desk chair, which is now partly broken and pinches my leg every time I sit. This day culminated in a migraine that wouldn't quit.
Tuesday was client work in the morning then a luncheon for Equal Pay Day at a local restaurant, which was fun. But by the time I got home it was 2:30, I hadn't eaten because of my strict and ridiculous diet regulations, and I had another headache.
Wednesday I wrangled with a client all day and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why he had hired me to help. Basically all he wanted me to do was interpret his ideas onto paper, all of my creative ideas were rejected in favor of something lined up and centered on the page, something his high school kid could have done for him. I quickly dubbed the day Cranky Wednesday, because I was in no mood for games.
The high point for the week, however was receiving a voice mail that showed up on my phone from the weekend. I have this issue with AT&T, sometimes messages get "hung" somewhere. I have no idea, and it is days before I get them. My mom tells me "seems like this just happens every time I leave you a message." "No, mom, it's not JUST your messages. It happens all the time."
Anyway, the message was from a man who I interviewed while writing a story that had been assigned to me by our local paper, The Franklin Favorite. I write for them as a stringer reporter and while it doesn't pay the mortgage, I love it and I am getting paid to write. That's a first for me, and my piggy bank likes the small donations. The part I love most is that I get to meet all kinds of interesting, wonderful, and amazing local people when I go out to do these interviews. This particular man was hesitant about being interviewed from the start. I finally got him to give me an appointment, and my friend Amy (photojournalist extraordinaire) went with me to meet him and take pictures.
He requested that I send a copy of the story to him to "approve" which I did. Apparently he called me over the weekend, and left a message along the lines of "you are an idiot and suck as a writer, how embarrassing for you". Well, ok, not exactly that. But he refused to approve the story, and rather than just saying that told me that my writing was "unreadable and circuitous, historically inaccurate, and just plain wrong."
Now, the thing is y'all? I have been through design school. I am a 43 year old woman, I can take criticism. If you tell me a sentence uses the wrong verb tense or that I run on too much or sometimes use my punctuation incorrectly, I will say "yeah, I did, I will fix it." But to say something like this to me. Y'all, it was just plain mean. And meant to hurt my feelings. And I do NOT like that. It was personal. And it hurt my feelings.
But the best thing is that I had been chronicling my Cranky Wednesday on Twitter. So of course I posted about this as the capper to my day.
This has been a stressful week for many reasons. I had several design projects that clients wanted wrapped up and finished after months of not hearing from them. So Monday was spent struggling with that, a long day hunched over the computer keyboard in my less-than-ergonomic desk chair, which is now partly broken and pinches my leg every time I sit. This day culminated in a migraine that wouldn't quit.
Tuesday was client work in the morning then a luncheon for Equal Pay Day at a local restaurant, which was fun. But by the time I got home it was 2:30, I hadn't eaten because of my strict and ridiculous diet regulations, and I had another headache.
Wednesday I wrangled with a client all day and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why he had hired me to help. Basically all he wanted me to do was interpret his ideas onto paper, all of my creative ideas were rejected in favor of something lined up and centered on the page, something his high school kid could have done for him. I quickly dubbed the day Cranky Wednesday, because I was in no mood for games.
The high point for the week, however was receiving a voice mail that showed up on my phone from the weekend. I have this issue with AT&T, sometimes messages get "hung" somewhere. I have no idea, and it is days before I get them. My mom tells me "seems like this just happens every time I leave you a message." "No, mom, it's not JUST your messages. It happens all the time."
Anyway, the message was from a man who I interviewed while writing a story that had been assigned to me by our local paper, The Franklin Favorite. I write for them as a stringer reporter and while it doesn't pay the mortgage, I love it and I am getting paid to write. That's a first for me, and my piggy bank likes the small donations. The part I love most is that I get to meet all kinds of interesting, wonderful, and amazing local people when I go out to do these interviews. This particular man was hesitant about being interviewed from the start. I finally got him to give me an appointment, and my friend Amy (photojournalist extraordinaire) went with me to meet him and take pictures.
He requested that I send a copy of the story to him to "approve" which I did. Apparently he called me over the weekend, and left a message along the lines of "you are an idiot and suck as a writer, how embarrassing for you". Well, ok, not exactly that. But he refused to approve the story, and rather than just saying that told me that my writing was "unreadable and circuitous, historically inaccurate, and just plain wrong."
Now, the thing is y'all? I have been through design school. I am a 43 year old woman, I can take criticism. If you tell me a sentence uses the wrong verb tense or that I run on too much or sometimes use my punctuation incorrectly, I will say "yeah, I did, I will fix it." But to say something like this to me. Y'all, it was just plain mean. And meant to hurt my feelings. And I do NOT like that. It was personal. And it hurt my feelings.
But the best thing is that I had been chronicling my Cranky Wednesday on Twitter. So of course I posted about this as the capper to my day.
TinfoilMagnolia Marsha Herndon
And the capper on my day? Just got v/m from a guy I interviewed last week saying how sucky and unintelligible my story was.#crankywednesday
By the time I was finished crying on hubby's shoulder I logged in to find these in my Twitter stream:
@TinfoilMagnolia tell him that it was maybe just his life that was that way and not your story...
@Tinfoilmagnolia tell that jagoff hating the media is so 2005
@
@TinfoilMagnolia what an ungrateful jerk he was.
Through my tears, I immediately had to laugh and smile at these folks. Only one of the three have I actually met in real life. The other two are 100 Word Challenge buddies. They don't know me except online, but they totally had my back. Wow. How much do I love that?
Just to be fair, my real life friends took up for me as well. I spoke to friend Amy and apparently the man claimed to the paper's editor that I made up stuff in the article that he actually told me and thank goodness she was there to say "Yes, you did say that. I was there." She told the editor that everything I wrote was accurate according to what he told me that day and the editor stood up for me and had my back. Thanks, Amy and Charlie.
This is what life is about, guys. Things don't always go our way, do they? Maybe my story did suck, I am a novice after all. Maybe he just thought that I would write some sort of Architectural Digest article with complete historical documentation from 1901 until present. I don't know. I just think it was thoughtless and mean to say those things to me. But I love the fact that I have friends who stick up for me.
Friday I attended a writing workshop locally and my creative batteries are again charged up, I need to be able to do that kind of thing more often. You know I listened to one of the speakers, Ad Hudler, and realized that life isn't always what we expect it to be. Or want it to be. Sometimes we ourselves aren't what we want to be. Sometimes our own actions surprise and disappoint us. All we can do is just move on and keep living life. Thanks, Ad for your perspective on this.
I have friends who take up for me, whether I am right or wrong. And I have friends who call me on it when I am wrong, telling me to snap out of it. That's what I love about life. Everything, everyone we need is right here. We just need to reach out for it.
My week ended with some really really good news, and some really bad news. Neither of which I can talk about here right now. But when I can, I will. Because the best support you can have in life is that of the people who care and love you.
Tuesday, March 1
Climbing the Hill
Well, here we are. It is March 1st. How can time go by so quickly. The weather here in SoKY continues to be a rollercoaster despite the fact that iris, daffodills and lillies are poking up through the ground already. Yesterday I was up early. Despite the fact that it was 60 outside, it was storming like crazy and pouring rain. Today, it is beautiful and sunny, but only 45.
Yesterday I pulled on my rain boots and grabbed my umbrella to trudge up the hill to class in the pouring rain. I had not been looking forward to doing it, and sure enough the water was washing down the hill in a mini river at my feet. I was so glad I had opted for my green plaid rain boots, despite how ridiculous I looked in them. They kept my feet warm and dry. The hill I have to climb for class is steep. Hubby thinks at least a 30 degree slope. I have found that in order to make it all the way up without passing out, I have to take my time and climb it slowly. My breathing still comes faster, and my heart still pounds, but if I just take it one step at a time, at least I don't feel like I want to pass out when I get to the top. I don't feel lightheaded.
Every day once I get to the top of that hill, I stop at the corner to catch my breath. I don't like the younger kids to see me gasping and wheezing. After that first day when I almost passed out, each time has gotten easier. I have gotten to the point that I actually look forward to it, and just park at the bottom of that big hill without trying to find something closer. Although I am cursing myself the entire way up, when I get to the building I just stand there at the top of that hill and congratulate myself for making it. And for feeling just the least bit better about it than the last time.
Yesterday as I stood there I noticed something else. The college-aged kids who were climbing that hill? They were breathing as hard as I was. I hadn't noticed that before. I stood and watched several of them walk up from the area in which I had parked. They walked slowly, like me. They panted and struggled to breathe, like me. But when they got to the top? They just kept on walking. Some of them are dropped off in cars at the corner by friends, or parents, or the shuttle.
Standing on the stone steps yesterday, watching these kids struggle up that hill, this thought occurred to me: There are times in life when everything is a downhill walk. Everything is rolling so fast it's easy to let things, good or bad, slip away from me. Sometimes I feel as though I am on level ground, and everything is running smoothly. Nothing exciting, just life as normal. Then there are the times I have to climb that hill. It ain't easy. I don't want to. I have to. I consider the options. I consider how to get out of it. I try to park closer, I think of taking the shuttle, the easy way out. But in the end I know the hill will make me strong. The hill will get me to my goal. It's painful, but I am no less likely to make it to the other side than the young kids are.
The difference of wisdom that comes with age? I stand at the top of the hill and appreciate the journey. Appreciate the fact that I made it to the top once more time. Appreciate the fact that I posessed the energy required to get me here. I am smack in the middle of climbing a big hill in life right now. Smack in the middle of some seriously uphill circumstances. They aren't the worst I have faced, but they are frustrating nonetheless. Every day I feel worn out from puffing and panting my way up the hill. Everyday I fight feeling defeated about facing yet another day up the hill. But I keep trudging on, looking back, and appreciating everything and everyone at the end of each day. And looking forward to the downhill walk back to my car.
And now for something completely different...
A friend of mine from a very, very long time ago is celebrating today, and I just wanted to give him a shout out. Christopher Rowe's long-awaited first novel is being released today and I know he's terribly excited. I am putting a link here to the novel on Amazon simply to showcase the cool cover art. Don't hesitate to purchase while you're there.
I don't read SF/Fantasy much (not at all actually) but it's exciting to know a real, live published author. For those of you who do read it, I am sure this novel will not disappoint. It's a Forgotten Realms/WOTC novel that he's been working on for a while so if you're into D&D check it out.
I know I would be over the moon happy if it were me. Well, I will be WHEN it is me. Anway...
Congrats, Christopher. So happy for you! And don't forget I knew you when...
Every day once I get to the top of that hill, I stop at the corner to catch my breath. I don't like the younger kids to see me gasping and wheezing. After that first day when I almost passed out, each time has gotten easier. I have gotten to the point that I actually look forward to it, and just park at the bottom of that big hill without trying to find something closer. Although I am cursing myself the entire way up, when I get to the building I just stand there at the top of that hill and congratulate myself for making it. And for feeling just the least bit better about it than the last time.
Yesterday as I stood there I noticed something else. The college-aged kids who were climbing that hill? They were breathing as hard as I was. I hadn't noticed that before. I stood and watched several of them walk up from the area in which I had parked. They walked slowly, like me. They panted and struggled to breathe, like me. But when they got to the top? They just kept on walking. Some of them are dropped off in cars at the corner by friends, or parents, or the shuttle.
Standing on the stone steps yesterday, watching these kids struggle up that hill, this thought occurred to me: There are times in life when everything is a downhill walk. Everything is rolling so fast it's easy to let things, good or bad, slip away from me. Sometimes I feel as though I am on level ground, and everything is running smoothly. Nothing exciting, just life as normal. Then there are the times I have to climb that hill. It ain't easy. I don't want to. I have to. I consider the options. I consider how to get out of it. I try to park closer, I think of taking the shuttle, the easy way out. But in the end I know the hill will make me strong. The hill will get me to my goal. It's painful, but I am no less likely to make it to the other side than the young kids are.
The difference of wisdom that comes with age? I stand at the top of the hill and appreciate the journey. Appreciate the fact that I made it to the top once more time. Appreciate the fact that I posessed the energy required to get me here. I am smack in the middle of climbing a big hill in life right now. Smack in the middle of some seriously uphill circumstances. They aren't the worst I have faced, but they are frustrating nonetheless. Every day I feel worn out from puffing and panting my way up the hill. Everyday I fight feeling defeated about facing yet another day up the hill. But I keep trudging on, looking back, and appreciating everything and everyone at the end of each day. And looking forward to the downhill walk back to my car.
And now for something completely different...
A friend of mine from a very, very long time ago is celebrating today, and I just wanted to give him a shout out. Christopher Rowe's long-awaited first novel is being released today and I know he's terribly excited. I am putting a link here to the novel on Amazon simply to showcase the cool cover art. Don't hesitate to purchase while you're there.
I don't read SF/Fantasy much (not at all actually) but it's exciting to know a real, live published author. For those of you who do read it, I am sure this novel will not disappoint. It's a Forgotten Realms/WOTC novel that he's been working on for a while so if you're into D&D check it out.
I know I would be over the moon happy if it were me. Well, I will be WHEN it is me. Anway...
Congrats, Christopher. So happy for you! And don't forget I knew you when...
Friday, October 8
Had a Bad Day...
I am a bit grumpy today. That doesn't happen very often, but one thing that will trigger it every time is when I am overloaded. And right now I feel totally overwhelmed. I have a lot I have to get done, for both paying jobs and volunteer work. I have a lot I want to get done, for my business and my writing. And I have things I need to get done, like laundry and housework. Aargh, I am getting stressed just typing about it.
I am not the best multi-tasker in the world, which makes me wonder why I think I need to take on so much. I think my problem right now is that I work for myself, and I tend not to think of that as a "real" job. (And neither does anyone else.) So since I don't go to an office 8-5 every day, I think of my time as open. And I overschedule and overload myself. I also wonder why I am trying to get my design business up and running while simultaneously trying to get a jewelry business up and running and also wanting to complete the novel I began writing this spring. I wonder why I never have time to ride my scooter anymore and why I even own one. Or why it is October already and I haven't gone to the country or the pumpkin patch or an orchard on the beautiful weekend days. I wonder why it has to be such an effort to make a healthy home made dinner every night with foods that are acceptable on my very strict food plan. Which in turn makes me wonder why I even look for a "real" job when I need more hours in the day as it is. And there it is, the shortness of breath. The anxiety. The worry.
Oh, well, just a little private Friday pity party. To top it all off I found out that my 82-year-old dad is having surgery next week due to a blockage (probably 90%) in his colon. Which could be dangerous due to the fact that he a) is 82 and b) has a heart condition. So tonight I told my hubby to go on with friends to the football game tonight and let me stay home to wallow in my misery. Tomorrow will be better and I am going to get out from behind this desk all day and enjoy life, give myself a little kick in the rear, and get back to a rational, sane, healthy diet. (After tomorrow I am done with the restricted diet until January!!) By Sunday, my attitude will be much better. Tonight, however, is made for sulking.
I am not the best multi-tasker in the world, which makes me wonder why I think I need to take on so much. I think my problem right now is that I work for myself, and I tend not to think of that as a "real" job. (And neither does anyone else.) So since I don't go to an office 8-5 every day, I think of my time as open. And I overschedule and overload myself. I also wonder why I am trying to get my design business up and running while simultaneously trying to get a jewelry business up and running and also wanting to complete the novel I began writing this spring. I wonder why I never have time to ride my scooter anymore and why I even own one. Or why it is October already and I haven't gone to the country or the pumpkin patch or an orchard on the beautiful weekend days. I wonder why it has to be such an effort to make a healthy home made dinner every night with foods that are acceptable on my very strict food plan. Which in turn makes me wonder why I even look for a "real" job when I need more hours in the day as it is. And there it is, the shortness of breath. The anxiety. The worry.
Oh, well, just a little private Friday pity party. To top it all off I found out that my 82-year-old dad is having surgery next week due to a blockage (probably 90%) in his colon. Which could be dangerous due to the fact that he a) is 82 and b) has a heart condition. So tonight I told my hubby to go on with friends to the football game tonight and let me stay home to wallow in my misery. Tomorrow will be better and I am going to get out from behind this desk all day and enjoy life, give myself a little kick in the rear, and get back to a rational, sane, healthy diet. (After tomorrow I am done with the restricted diet until January!!) By Sunday, my attitude will be much better. Tonight, however, is made for sulking.
Thursday, September 9
Afterlife
The coffee maker struggles. Sputtering and wheezing it slowly spits out the steaming black elixir. She waits, cup in hand, shoulders slumped. Regrets are strong, like the coffee.
She looks around the kitchen. Sunlight floods through the back windows, the tomatoes in the basket are rotten, the garbage already stinks. She feels humiliated and defeated, like the tomatoes. Past the shiny, pretty part of life. The young, ripe flesh decaying a little each day until nothing desirable remains. So much to give, yet left to waste away. Then, an unceremonious landing in the garbage.
“Is there coffee?”.
She cringes.
She cringes.
Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Pretty fun, click the link to read other entries. This week's prompt: "rotten".
Saturday, August 28
No Man's Land
Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The prompt was "corridor".
I am no longer that cute young thing of 22. Or even 32.
I am not yet that hunched over elderly woman with arthritic fingers.
Somewhere in between these is the land where I reside.
My body a corridor, bridging that gap between old and young.
Feeling some days closer to one or the other
but never really either.
To the left are younger days.
Left behind in a haze of working too hard at the wrong job.
Left behind in the stress of daily living.
On the right is my future.
Right there in front of me.
Right now.
I am no longer that cute young thing of 22. Or even 32.
I am not yet that hunched over elderly woman with arthritic fingers.
Somewhere in between these is the land where I reside.
My body a corridor, bridging that gap between old and young.
Feeling some days closer to one or the other
but never really either.
To the left are younger days.
Left behind in a haze of working too hard at the wrong job.
Left behind in the stress of daily living.
On the right is my future.
Right there in front of me.
Right now.
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