My definition of romance has changed so much over the years. Dating has taught me the things entertainment deems romantic is actually a pile of red flags on fire. The heat you feel isn’t the flames of passion but the toxic waste chapping your butt on it’s way out of your body.
No one is coming to save you. No one is going to read between the lines. The only way you are going to get swept off your feet is if you try to cross a flooded creek. Or go dancing in a tornado. And that pressure in your chest is most likely heartburn.
Cynical? Who me?
Not romantic: one year for a gift giving occasion a star was named after me for 30 years. In the constellation of my zodiac sign. This was not romantic. It upset me greatly. I just kept thinking about how poor I was and how that money could be put to better use.
Surprising me with food. Are you kidding me, I just ate. But you brought me food and I’m expected to eat something.
Flowers. Flowers are nice, but buy me a living plant so it can grow year after year. Buy me a fruit tree. I can eat plums and think of you.
In a way, traditional romance is wasted on me. Talk to me. Give me your time. Listen to me. Help me. Take out the trash, wash the dishes, play with my dog. Let’s go on a picnic or watch a movie at home curled up on the couch. Let’s cook dinner together. Hold me when I cry. Let’s go on a walk. I have long since discovered I don’t need expensive extravagance things. I’m a simple woman.
Finish the story; number 12 – It’s your mom’s birthday today, and you…
It’s your mom’s birthday today, and you… A friend invited us to his farm to pick veggies. While we were there, he offered us any of the flowers that were growing. His wife (now deceased) ordered flowers by the dozens. Many he had no idea what they were. I questioned one beautiful clump of greenery. The flowers had gone but he showed me a picture; Hellebore he called it.
I dug a piece for mom. She loves flowers. Always asking me to take pictures of her prizes. I also dug a piece for myself.
They didn’t endure the ride home well. Even in a bucket of wet earth, they sagged and begged for life.
Though the plant looked sad, I knew once it was planted it would thrive. With a light heart, I printed a picture of what the flower would look like and planting instructions.
Mom loves flowers.
I presented my present. Mom looks at me. Looks at the plant, ignoring the instructions and the picture of what it could be, “you gave me a dead plant?”
Every time I walk past my thriving plant, I look at it and say, “you gave me a dead plant.”
Finish the Story Writing Prompts
Finish the Story Writing Prompts Creative writing exercises will help you improve your skills and tap into your creative side, but sometimes it can …
Many years ago, I used to work with a person from a very different part of the world. I made terrible fun of this person because even on the hottest days of the year, person would spend lunch breaks in a HOT car. Windows up, asleep. For reasons I never understood and honestly, didn’t care to understand.
Now days I find myself doing something similar. Spending my lunch breaks sitting in a warm\hot-ish car, windows partially down; I need that cross breeze. On super hot days, I may only stay for 5 minutes. But here I am doing the same behavior I found odd enough to make fun of, in someone else.
The office I work in feels like a meat locker to me. We worked in an office together back then. So I’m sure while I was comfortable, the other person was freezing.
I have even set a timer just incase I fall asleep. On cool days when the temp inside my car hits that sweet spot, the tentacles of sleep wrap around me and pull me in. As I’m sure sleep seduced my former co-worker.
I’m thankful for the meat locker. It keeps a roof over my head.
I’m thankful for the car. It gets me from point A to point B. And is a warm place to thaw.
I’m thankful for the lessons. May I keep learning.
God is great all the time. Even when it takes years for the lesson to materialize.
Purchased these indoor shutters back in September or October for $4.00 I think at a yard sale. Think I ended up buying 5 cans of spray paint from Ollies at $1.99 per can. Notice in the top left hand corner, Cheekie has to help. 😉Had some old trim in the basement that I cut into strips and spray pained as well. The shutters were too short for the windows. BeforeAfter. I said in the title frustration. Oh yes. Nothing about this project was simple. Not even the spray painting process. I think I ran out of spray paint and had to buy 2 more cans. Sadly Ollies went up in price to $2.29 for the same paint. The original hinges I bought were wrong. When to Wal-Mart to buy more. WRONG! Got the right kind at Lowes but the only color that had was black. WRONG. When through my craft supplies to paint them. I was scrapping the bottle to get enough gold to make to work. One of the original strips I cut and painted was too short. Had to cut and paint another one. The strip between the windows isn’t wood. Had to buy glue. The hinges were $5.00 for a two (2) pack. And the glue was $7.99. Lowes had cheaper glue. I’ve used Gorilla glue in the past and it’s good stuff. Not counting the time it took to spray paint them, it took about 5 hours. 🫣
When brightness came again, she wanted to know if he was interested in taking a bath? Getting clean. If he wanted, she would figure out a way he could bathe in the creek or do a set up in the basement. He was taller than her basement. A shower was out of the question.
The blobs across the creek were back. Watching.
He finally picked up the paper she brought him. At first he was angry. There was nothing but scribbles on the paper. Scribbles and holes. Over time images formed. Flowers. Trees. Chico. He gave the page with Chico on it to her. She cried.
She brought him more paper and different pencils.
He started drawing things he didn’t know. Where did these come from? A baby boy and a baby girl. Buildings he had no idea where they were. Cars and trucks he’d never seen. Landscapes where he’d never been.
The blobs across the creek watched him.
He didn’t take the woman up on the offer of a bath. Water (other than rain) frightened him.
The woman was sitting outside his nest, looking at the paper. Chico sitting next to him. She laid the pages with the babies on the ground side by side. “Please don’t destroy these. They’re beautiful.”
He thought. Words filled his mind. His throat tickled. He squeaked in a hushed tone, “they – destroyed – me.” Each word was said with deliberate slowness.
The woman looked at him in shock.
Where did that come from? Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Those few words made his throat and head hurt. He handed Chico to her. Scooped up the papers before retreating back into his nest.
The woman was gone. The blobs across the creek were back. Shrieking filled his head. He poked his head outside his nest. They were hurling objects at him. Several hit him before he could hide in the safety of his nest.
“What is wrong with you?” The woman roared. Where did she come from? He thought she was gone. “Jesus is watching you!” She continued.
He heard a sound, leapt from his nest standing in front of the woman. Grabbing her by the shoulders. As he touched her she gasped. An explosion filled the void. He inhaled deeply as he sank to his knees. Jaye looked up to see her neighbors running back toward their house. The man was carrying a shotgun.
“Thank you,” he squeezed the words out. Patted his chest as he sank to the ground,“Mac.”
Leonard cocked his head; at first looking confused. Searching desperately around the deck looking for that beloved voice.
“Leonard.” The voice sang to him.
With his nose, tail wagging fiercely, he scanned at the French door. The voice, he knew was real. Calling his name. “Leonard.”
He backed away from the door, cocked his head again. “Leonard. Where’s your sister?”
With excitement, he danced back and forth, staring at the brick wall. Yes, he knew that voice.
“I love you Leonard.”
His sister could be heard barking in the background. He was torn. Stay here and listen to the voice he loved or help his sister. Finally, he ran to help her defend their border at all cost. After the threat had passed, in a language only they understood, he told her about hearing the voice.
Lazy hours later, a familiar sound filled their ears. They raced to the back door. As the door opened, they almost knocked their aunt and uncle over to get inside. They searched every room. Sniffed every baseboard. Nothing.
His sister snarled her nose. Leonard was defeated. He knew he heard the voice. Lucy sundered out of the house, thumbing her tail in Leonard’s face. Before picking disappointedly at dinner.
Leonard drank greedily at the cool fresh water before plopping down on the deck. He knew the voice was real.
He had arranged his nest so he could watch the creek. Flowers bloomed and died. Birds picked at worms. Chico became familiar to him. The dog no longer barked at him but seemed eager to receive the extra attention.
A sound brought him outside. The woman was pushing a red object back and forth in the yard. She would stop, unhook the back, take it to the creek bank to shake it out, replace it and walk some more. Every few days, she did this. Should he offer to help? So he did. Using hand gestures, he offered to help her and to his amazement she accepted. He learned how she liked her yard mowed. How to empty the bag. When the batteries died, he put them on the railing where she would find them to charge.
One afternoon across the creek, a blob was just standing there. He perceived this blob was watching him. The woman was gone. Chico was safe in the house. He crawled out of his nest to make sure no one was behind him. He was alone. When he looked back in the direction of this new blob. It was gone.
The leaves were changing. A plunking sound caused him to open his eyes. Right in front of his nest, a round green thing lay on the ground. It was hard. He squeezed it. Nothing happened. What was this? The temperature was falling. More of these round things were on the ground. Some of them were soft. He picked one up, squeezing it. The shell cracked exposing a gooey, thread like brown substance. He curled his nose and his lip. Soft laughter filled his ears. “Walnuts are the worst. Your hand will be stained brown for months.” He rubbed, pulling even harder at the center to get to the goo. Rubbing it around in his hands. Once the shock of this strange texture wore off, he liked how it felt.
Squirrels were racing across the yard collecting the fallen walnuts. If they were good enough for the squirrels, they were good enough for him. The woman taught him how to crack them. But she wore gloves. His hands were already a mess. He didn’t care.
His attention was pulled across the creek; two blobs were watching him now. He disappeared inside his nest until they went away.
“Hi,” the woman was sitting on the ground, all smiles. “I have you something.” She handed him some paper and pencils of all different colors. “Use them however you like.” She placed her hand on her chest, “Jaye.”
Should he respond? What he thought his name was; was right there on the tip of his tongue. Caught in his throat. But it wouldn’t come out.
For a long time, he didn’t. The gift lay in the corner of his nest. Snow came. Cold came. The woman appeared outside. “It’s supposed to get below 0 would you like to stay in the basement?”
She showed him the space. Let him look around. To him, she seemed concerned. He would accept this gift. He wasn’t able to light a fire in this space. Canned light had to be used. It didn’t have the warmth a real fire had. But the lady was nice. He would respect her.
He only spent the coldest part of the snow in her basement. He was eager to get back to his nest. Familiarity.
Are there things you try to practice daily to live a more sustainable lifestyle?
Is sustainable lifestyle the new term for frugal living? Or perhaps being poor? I’ve often read about people who are wealthy living a ‘poor’ lifestyle. The people around them perceive that they don’t have a ‘pot to pee in’; when in reality, they are richer than 10 feet up a bulls hind end.
I’m in no way knocking a sustainable lifestyle or frugal living. I’m all about it. So much so that I have written a collection of poems about the things I do that help my overall budget. And I would like to think helps our planet as well.
I had to share this. Cheekie has been so cute this morning. In this picture, he’s waiting on my blackberry dumplins. I was a little worried about giving him some but I read they shouldn’t hurt him.
When I was making them last night, I discovered he likes dough. 😂
1 quart of blackberries 2 cups of sugar ( I didn’t have 2 cups of sugar. There was only a cup and maybe a 1/4th in the container. So I added a teaspoon of brown sugar. 1 cup of water Splash of lemon juice Bring to a boil, lower to simmer for about an hour The blackberries I bought were about the size of your thumb. I used a potato masher to mash them a little. It helped make for a thicker sauce. * I used canned biscuits for the dumplins. (I know I cheated.) Add the second cup of water, add biscuits boil on medium for 15 minutes. Dumplins were not quite done so I simmered them for another 5 minutes. * Caution they might drive your dog crazy.Enjoy. Cheekie sure did.
Poetry & More 