Day 203; 334 days of photos
Kentucky Summer
*Author’s note. I had an old satchel under my night stand; covered with 20 plus years of dust. It contained page after page of stories I had started. This is one example.
In my forty-six years of walking this earth, I’ve only met one person that claimed not to have a celebrity crush. All I can say is that he’s a better man than I am a woman. There are several on my list. Either because his voice, looks, did an amazing job in a roll, or sometimes that actor just touches something inside me that I identify with.
Kentucky is my home. I’ve lived here all my life. Never really dreamed about living any other place. If you’re unfamiliar with Kentucky, our summers are breath taking – literally. For those of us that live here, it feels like from mid June to September, our humidity levels are off the charts. One local weather forecaster calls it “air you can wear.” Air conditioning is our friend.
July had been a horrible month for me. Everything that could break down, tear up, blow up, or deflate did. Work was beyond busy and I had ended up working late every day.
My chores were neglected. I just knew one of my neighbors would call the health department. It was that bad.
I needed a break. A break from life, the heat, work, even my dog was working my last nerve.
On this particular day, I was about to cry. Work had sucked the life out of me.
Already hot, tired, and covered with dirt, I open the door to leave work and got smacked in the face with 96% humidity. Gross! There is no way my car is getting cool in the less than ten minute commute.
A cold shower is calling my name.
Someone, anyone, tell me to go jump in the lake.
As I pull into the drive, imagine my surprise when I see my celebrity crush mowing my yard.
Day 202; 334 days of photos
When you bought your house?
When you bought your house,
did you ever think of all the different hats you’d have to wear?
A carpenter.
A plumber.
An electrician.
A landscaper.
A painter.
A housekeeper.
A chef.
A seamstress.
An interior designer/decorator.
An accountant.
The Chief Executive Officer and
the Chief Financial Officer of your own empire.
Owning a home is one of the great American dreams.
That square of Earth to call your own.
So you can run up your own personal flag telling the world, “THIS IS MINE.”
But with all that hard work comes greater rewards: being able to own a pet.
The peace and security of those strong walls.
You can decorate it however you want. Explore that color pallet. Show off your sense of style.
Have all the friends you want over without having to worry about upsetting the neighbors.
Oh, you want to cook something stinky?
Cook it girl!
You go girl.
Get your house on.
Day 201; 334 days of photos
You’re Next
The mother
Max changed out of the wet hurricane clothes. Walking on stage, microphone in hand, he screwed on a smile. “Welcome back folks.”
Travis was still lying in his glass box. The mother had been given a chair.
Max hung his head. “As a result of yesterday’s heat, two people have died.”
The mother placed her hands over her face.
Max flinched as the smell hit him. Becky walked on stage wearing a white nurses uniform. The glass prison was gone. As she bent over to examine Travis, a muffled gag escaped her. Through pursed lips, she reported that he was still alive.
“Mother,” Max called to her. “You must spin again.”
She stood as straight as she could, took a firm grip on the wheel, spinning with all her might. Again, she fell backwards. Max rush to her, cradling her in his arms as the wheel crawled to a stop.
Click, hurricane.
Click, heat wave.
Click, partly cloudy and mild.
“Partly cloudy and mild,” Max smiled, patting her arm as he helped her to stand.
Camera 3: If you weren’t present at this moment, you were one of the oldies that couldn’t get out of your house.
Travis was standing in a circle. He seemed to have recovered some of his strength. People had gathered all around him. A whistle blew, citizens started hurling rocks at him. He stood tall, for about ten rocks. He covered his head screaming, “the old lady spun the heat wave. She did it.” He screamed.
Max was standing in the back of the group. Rolling the smooth stone over and over in his right hand. ‘How many people had this stone killed’? Max thought. Something hit him so hard on the left shoulder, that he stumbled forward a step and dropped his rock.
Upon turning, he found a woman with dark circles under her eyes, she was a mess; holding a baby. Mockingly she said, “no one died.” She went back to her normal voice. “No. But plenty of us hard working honest folks lost everything we had thanks to Hurricane Max. You bastard!”
In a breathless whisper he pleaded, “it wasn’t my fault.”
Day 200; 334 days of photos
Coreopsis 19 d
Orion took a deep breath. “I honestly don’t remember much. On the ride to the boat she gave me something to drink, she drank herself. I thought nothing of it. Before we got on the boat, I wasn’t able to hold my head up. A porter had to help me to my seat. I slept the entire boat ride. I remember being in a room. I woke up at some point, nude and alone. I didn’t see her until it was time for our return.”
‘That’s it’. Sarah thought, she was appalled. “If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it fall, does it make a noise?”
“What kind of question is that?” Rao asked.
“If you have no memory that the marriage was consummated, was it really?”
“Paul is my son. I’m not ignorant enough not to have proof.”
“Have the two of you even saw the other naked?” Rao asked.
“I have never witnessed her. If she has me, I have no knowledge of it.”
“So as far as you have knowledge, you have never been intimate with this woman?” Sarah asked.
“Due to the fact that I have a child, I have had sex.”
“No, there are ways for her to get pregnant and it still be your child without you two having sex.”
Orion tried his best not to pass out.
Sarah finally spoke, “but having sex and being intimate are two different things.”
“Amen,” Rao agreed.
“What is stopping you from having an affair?” James asked.
Orion was about to die. “I can’t.”
“Explain.” James remarked.
He looked over at Sarah, “she (Floria) tells me all the time I am two snips away from being a girl.”
“Well as I have said before, you have never struck me as a man’s man, but there’s nothing wrong with that.” Sarah commented.
The tension in the room was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.
“It doesn’t work.” Orion finally admitted with an exasperated sigh.
“What do you mean it doesn’t work?” Sarah asked.
“Sarah,” he weakly cried, before taking a deep breath. “I haven’t had an erection in a very long time.”
“You’re kidding?” James stammered.
“Why would I lie about something like that?” Orion lowered his head.
Sarah asked, “why is the penis the center of the male universe?”
He was taken by surprise, “what?”
“If pleasing a woman is the object, there are other ways of pleasing her than the penis?”
“What pleasure is in that for man?” James asked.
“If a fully aroused partner isn’t enough to cause an erection, then you have a real medical problem. I haven’t met a man yet that the art of sex didn’t arouse.” She answered James question then turned to Orion, “What do you think the problem is?”
“I don’t have the energy.”
“Don’t give me that crap. You danced to Selira music.”
“Only briefly.”
“Well,” James snapped.
He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Then buried his face.
“You should have known this wouldn’t be easy.” James told him in his normal fatherly caring voice.
“Why does it have to be so personal?”
“You don’t seem to mind getting personal when it’s someone else.” Sarah scolded him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I forgave you; though I still have the right to point out the obvious.”
“Son,” James softly spoke.
“They make medicine for that, if indeed it is a medical problem.” Sarah assured him.
“I always figured it was God’s way of punishing me.” He didn’t raise up.
“Punishing you for what?” Rao asked.
James took Rao by the elbow and they left the room. David followed.
“They’re gone.”
“Oh dear God,” Orion cried into his knees. “I can’t do this.”
“You should have known that this wouldn’t be easy.”
“I didn’t know it would be this hard.”
“Do you want to be alone?”
“No, God no,” He started sobbing.
She felt so sorry for him. In one sense all of his dignity had been stripped away. The ultimate humiliation was to have it stripped away by his parents. She didn’t know what to do, other than to hold him while he cried.
Day 199; 334 days of photos
The quiet moments
Sorry Michael, I kinda lied. There was a metric floating around in my brain. I was so disgusted with everything. Just feeling blue. Discouraged. That I said, in my head, once I reach one thousand followers, I’m done. Hanging up my pen. I was hovering around 990 at that point.
WordPress decided to update the status page and my followers plummeted to 973. I know what you’re thinking, it’s not about the followers, it’s about the work. And I agree. Please hear me out.
Many of you may have had this self debate; putting myself on a public forum was hard. My grammar is subpar. I write like I talk. Which isn’t eloquent. This I know. All of those negative thoughts and actual words came flooding back.
I cried out to God, “okay if this is you telling me not to give up, I will keep going.”
And I have kept going. Each one of you have encouraged me to keep doing what I love. And yes, I love it.
This morning I woke to a notification that I had a new person interested in what I write. I was at 1,019 followers because y’all like my work. There was no fanfare that I had passed a thousand followers. It was a quiet moment.
All of my books are self published on KDP. Just a few hugs. It was a quiet moment.
When my books were put in the library, there was a few “that’s cool.” It was a quiet moment.
No parades down Main Street. No big fancy stories in the paper. No pod cast invitations. No cakes or parties. Quiet moments.
I’m not looking for a pity party here. Or accolades. My goal here is to encourage you. Run to those quiet moments. Sitting in the middle of those quiet moments is God encouraging you. Surrounded by the storm of life, with arms wide open.
I have got a lot of support and love from my WordPress/Jetpack fellow authors. And I thank you for it. I would have hung up my pen long ago if not for you.
Recently, I published The Snake and The Rabbit; a piece of fan fiction based on Sherlock Holmes. Back (way back) I wrote a story about him not dying after The Final Problem. At that time, I was ignorant that there were more stories after this.
Because of this, I went and dug out a satchel from under my night stand; covered with 20 plus years of dust. It contained page after page of stories I had started; that with your indulgence, I will share.
Don’t give up on those quiet moments. Don’t let negative self talk and actual talk sabotage you. Words (sometimes the lack there of) really hurt and bring us to new lows. Keep pushing forward. Keep trying. Keep living for those quiet moments.
