Poetry, writing, drawing, painting and more.
Time for those dishes to go to the dishwasher.
🎶And the forks in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little blue bowl and the saucer in the moon
“When are we going to the dishwasher, dad?”
“I don’t know when”
But we’ll get together then
You know we’ll have a good time then
Yeah, dishwasher dad, you know we’ll have a good time then🎶
https://youtu.be/KUwjNBjqR-c?si=_LmG1kWEuecKSLUP
WEIRD AL let’s collaborate. 😉
Two boosters please
She was a little concerned that the health department wouldn’t be able to work her in but they did. No one was there.
As they sat in the empty waiting room, Oscar noticed the confused look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“No one’s here.” She pointed around. “Is it because it’s cold?”
He gave a light chuckle, “um no. The government is evil. Covid is fake. The vaccine will cause you to sprout 3 horns. Once you take the first shot, you’ll be dead in 5 years.” Esther raised an eyebrow. “The way I see it, I’ve got 2 more years to live.” He added.
“What?”
“My family believes all of that. I’m a horrible person because I wanted to follow all the Covid precautions including getting vaccinated. My family is the polar opposite.” He sighed, “sadly, more people than not believe as my family does.”
His hand was laying on the armrest of the chair. She laid her hand on top of his. “I’m sorry.” He laced his fingers through hers. “I was the first one in line when they became available. A lot of people say it’s like having the flu. I don’t want that either. Once in the past 10,” she thought. “Yes, 10 years I was diagnosed with the flu. I was so sick I couldn’t make it from the couch to the bathroom without feeling like I was going to pass out because I couldn’t catch my breath.”
They called his name. He kissed the top of her hand as he got up.
When they returned home , both changed and set to cleaning. Suddenly she rose up, “you said errands. We only went to get the booster. Did I knock you out of doing something else?”
“Heavens no. It was much more fun,” he raised an eyebrow, “getting poked with you.”
“Booger.” She teased.
Oscar was cleaning in the kitchen and Esther in the little bedroom. He hadn’t heard her in a while, “Ess.” He called but got no answer. “Ess?” He found her curled up in the middle of the floor. “Ess?”
“Tired.”
She woke on his couch. The fire place crackling behind her. Bell was sitting in one of the overstuffed recliners reading. “Hi there. Oscar went to town to get some things. I changed your clothes. Oscar has probably told you by now that I work at the nursing home.”
Esther was so tired she couldn’t speak.
“Oscar told me you two got your Covid booster yesterday and this is what happens to you every time.”
Esther just watched her.
“I take it this is your book? I don’t think Oscar is going to need to know how to cope through female menopause. Good book.” She closed it. “Oscar seems to really like you. I know you’ve only been here a week but you’ve been like an injection of life for him. And between me and you, I hope you..” She pursed her lips. “His family… Horrible people. I know.” She raised a hand, “as a Christian I shouldn’t feel that way. That’s why he’s God and I’m not.” She paused. It was as if she was speaking to herself and not Esther, “Oscar is such a good person.”
Esther fell back to sleep.
She woke to Oscar was holding her. She could hear his heart beating. “Hi there, you need to drink something.” She tried but didn’t get much down.
She woke up with a big stretch. “Hi there.”
“Hi.” He was all smiles.
“What day is it?”
“Monday.”
It took a minute for that to sink in, “Monday. What time?” She asked panicked.
“Noon, why?”
“Have you just ran home on your lunch break?”
“No.”
“No, you missed a day of work because of me?”
He sat with her on the couch. “Why do you seem so surprised?”
“I mean. You didn’t have to. You….”
He took her hands. “I wasn’t going to leave you here alone.”
How could he have done this? Why did he do it? Miss a day of work because of her. She had it, he was afraid she would wake up while he was gone and rob him blind. That had to be it. Right?
“Was Bell here?” She asked instead.
“Yes, I went to town to get stuff I was hoping you could eat and drink. Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” she blushed.
“Then let me feed you.” In the kitchen there was a single daisy on the table. “For you.”
“Me?”
“Saturday made one week since you’ve been here.”
“Thank you. That is so very sweet.”
Or
Revenge is best served with super glue?
Jazzy took the business sized letter from the mailman without even looking at it. Mail in any form meant work. They chatted for a moment about the forecast: snow. That dreaded S word. It was as effective as saying a real colorful metaphor. A true slap across the face. Snow. The ultimate winter blues.
As she inspected the letter, a shutter crept from her toes to her brain and back. THE IRS! What did Uncle Sam want? A kidney was about all she had left. Maybe if she didn’t open it. Didn’t read it. This would go away?
With great hesitation, she slid her finger into the fold of the letter. It groaned like an obstinate child staring at a plate of broccoli. This maneuver had open hundreds, dare she think, thousands of letters. But not this one. A hunk of paper the size of a dine fell to the floor. Using the same technique, she tried again. The envelope tore in a Florida shaped pattern to the bottom then back up centimeters from her finger.
What had Uncle Sam used to seal this letter? Super glue? He could have saved the $3.00, used a sponge and water. Much cheaper. But it was the government after all. They made nothing easy. Or cheap.
Her frustration was mounting. What was so special about this dookie eatin’ letter? She shuck the envelope, praying the letter would glide effortlessly to the floor. At this point, bending over would have been joyous.
WRONG! The envelope stuck to her finger. When she pulled it loose, the sound of utter astonishment escaped her, a hunk of skin lunged from her hand. Defiantly staying with the envelope. Now a small corner of the envelope was stained red. Her finger stung. A sad drop of blood ran down toward her palm. “SH…” But the remaining characters stayed under her breath.
She tore the letter from the envelope. The simple act of unfolding the letter, highlighted the fact that the envelope was still attached.
“Why?” Her voice was laden with defeat. That stubborn envelope got one more dig in. As she ripped it from the back of the page; it was a the right angle to give her a sizable paper cut. And as we all know, few things hurt worse?
What else was Uncle Sam going to do to her? Her nerves were shattered. One finger was bleeding. Another was stinging. Annoyed frustration oozed through her veins. The simple act of opening a letter had her ready to hit the sauce.
“YES!” She had it. This letter was possessed. Had to be. Why else was it trying so hard to hurt her?
A possessed letter from the IRS. Fantastic!
With the flick of her wrist, the envelope went sailing through the air toward the trash can. Bye, bye demon from the government. Alas no. MISSED! The mangled envelope lay in the floor. As close as a lovers touch to the trash can. There it was taunting her.
Who are your current most favorite people?
This WordPress/Jetpack community. Like I stated in the title, this isn’t so you will click like on my work. This is a heartfelt Thank You from me to you.
As I continued to dig into my past, I’m discovering that I’ve wanted to write (in some form or another) for a long time. It’s beyond amazing that there is a platform where it feels okay to share. A space where feedback given, welcomed, instructive, and supportive.
I was terrified when I posted my first post. Today, I am so thankful that I did. You are an amazing community.
Thanks to you; I feel like the quality of my writing has improved as well as my overall mental health.
A storm was coming.
Growing up, every house Ruth lived in would be considered ‘substandard housing’ by today’s standards. Truth be told, they were most likely ‘substandard’ by the standards of that day. But there was a roof over her head, she was relatively warm and dry.
So when she bought her first house, it broke her heart that ‘plastic’ had to be put over the windows. Weatherization if you will.
One of the best things she ever did was have new windows put in; as she could afford them. Her living room has a large front window. When Chico came into her life, this is his entertainment. He sits on the back of the couch and watches ‘Chico t.v.’.
This evening a storm is brewing. For hours the black clouds have been piling in. The birds have all gone to roost. There hasn’t been a car past the house in well over an hour.
Chico sat on the back of the couch. Ruth knelt behind him on the cushions. Her left arm wrapped around him. While his back rested up against her shoulder. They watched the impending storm. And natures reaction to it.
The heavens opened and rain poured down in sheets. The road is about 25 feet from her house. Maybe 30 and she couldn’t see the road for the rain.
It rained like this for half an hour. Slowly, objects started to come into view. The decorative fence around a flower bed. The mail box. People started to drive again. But the rain didn’t fully stop.
By bed time, the rain had calmed itself into a slow Kentucky rain. Those rains that you know are going to last all night or all day. They have settled in for the long haul. Not heavy. But you’re gonna get wet.
Chico wore his rain coat when they went to potty town.
Lightening was random. The thunder silent.
Chico and Ruth settled in, it was a great night for sleeping.
A thunderous pounding came to the side door. Chico (a 10 pound Chihuahua) raced from the bed with the ferocity of a bull Mastiff. She had never heard such barking from him. Once she had him under control, she opened the door to a man.
Lightening lit up the face of a wild eyed madman. Soaked to the bone. She knew the instant she saw his face why he was at her door.
“Come in.”
The End
What are your favorite animals?
Kisses?
He was gone. The smell of food filled her lungs. She got dressed and joined him in the kitchen. When he finally sat at the table, she got up and looked at his neck. It was the first time she had gotten to see the scratch she had made. “I’m so sorry,” moving his collar to see the full effect of what she did. “Let me go get some medicine and treat that.”
He reached out for her guiding her to his lap.“Do you have any idea about how badly I want to kiss you right now? I wanted to kiss your shoulder last night. Thought better of it. Was afraid you’d slap me.”
His hand was warm as he gently slid it up her neck. Long slender fingers teased her ears. Timid, he was so nervous. What if he bit her? What if he was a sloppy kisser? What if….? Was he doing it right? She hadn’t slapped him yet. “So soft,” he moaned.
She wanted to rip his clothes off and take advantage of him right then and there. But if she was reading him right, no one would be taken advantage of.
She cleared her throat, finally asked. “What is on your agenda today?”
“I have a few errands to run. Going to go get my Covid booster. But when I get back, I want to help you.”
“Where are you getting the booster?”
“Health department, why?”
She got up setting back at the table. “I need to get mine.”
“Go with me.” He smiled a teasing smile, “misery loves company.”
She pursed her lips together, “I’d better wait until I get the house put together.”
“Do you care if I ask why?”
“They always make me sick. Right now, I don’t have a bed to crash into.”
“Yes, you do. Go with me. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you.” Pleading with his eyes.
“What if the booster makes you sick too?”
“We’ll both be sick.”
She laughed. “Okay. Are you still going to help me clean when we get back.”
“Of course.”
“I’d like that.” They cleaned the kitchen.
You don’t need that.
It wouldn’t do you any good.
~
You don’t need that.
Stop dwelling on it.
~
You don’t need that.
You know that’s right.
~
You don’t need that.
It would make no difference in your life.
~
You don’t need that.
Someone else needs it more than you.
~
You don’t need that.
No amount of wishing can make it happen.
~
You don’t need that.
Sometimes the greatest prayers go unanswered?
~
You don’t need that.
That’s a good thing.
Cause I’m never going to get it.
Poetry & More