So, here I am again. Looking at a blank screen thinking I should fill it with wit and wisdom.
Not sure I can, but am going to try to fill it with 500 words.
There is a lady who is in Idaho from our 500 group who has had the tragedy of losing a friend and neighbor to murder by her husband. He shot her, their two children and her mother, then himself.
I have lost a sister-in-law and her three children to the act of her husband. He drove the car into the lake and got out alive. He was convicted of negligible homicide and fined four thousand dollars. This was over thirty years ago. It still hurts.
The hurt from a loss continues, but lessens. Sometimes. Sometimes, it is close and real. Sometimes just history.
I remember trying to console our children on the loss. It wasn't easy. It never is. The best thing is to remember the good times, and when it is new, when it is fresh, the only thing you remember or feel is hurt. Loss. Anger. Trying to understand. You may never know why or understand, but you can remember their laughter as they ran through the sprinkler, or the momma's smile when she looked at them.
It will be a while, and yet, on the way home from the funeral, she may smile at what her friend may have said the last time they were together.
We need to hug each other while we can, even if it is long distance and over the internet.
We need to laugh and smile.
We need to grieve the way we need to. Don't rush through it. Don't rush through life.
Be kind to each other and let us help any way we can.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Computers
I have worked with computers for about twelve years. Meaning that I have gotten on the internet, checked e-mails, and stored stuff. I have even uploaded pictures to my computer and e-mailed them to other people. I have even posted them on Facebook.
However, do I know how to cut and paste? Do I know how to move sections of the written word around and make a better placement of it? Um, not with any confidence. I do it and fifty percent of the time it works.
I have tried going to computer classes, but most of the ones I have attended, I know more than they are teaching, i.e. I know how to boot it up and shut it down and even how to turn on the screen. One class I attended, they spent the two hours on doing just that. So, I was bored and didn't go back.
My computer manages to do wonderful things, like have an magnified picture on my screen when I awake it from sleep mode. The magnification is the same as it had been before, but my screensaver is three times the size it should be. Changing the magnification doesn't do it. The only thing that works is rebooting and when I do I that all my gadgets are in the middle of the screen instead of at the right side where they when they went to sleep.
I have talked to several people about this and even went to Google. The people on Google only think it applies to laptops....not so. Mine is a pc. Once when I went to Google I plugged in " enlarged" picture, without the quotations and would you believe, I got a million hits and one of them actually pertained to my computer? I did not know so many parts of the human body could be enlarged.
I do love my computer and how I can write and store stuff on it. The problem? Where did I store it and how do I retrieve it? A story for another day.
Come back and visit again.
However, do I know how to cut and paste? Do I know how to move sections of the written word around and make a better placement of it? Um, not with any confidence. I do it and fifty percent of the time it works.
I have tried going to computer classes, but most of the ones I have attended, I know more than they are teaching, i.e. I know how to boot it up and shut it down and even how to turn on the screen. One class I attended, they spent the two hours on doing just that. So, I was bored and didn't go back.
My computer manages to do wonderful things, like have an magnified picture on my screen when I awake it from sleep mode. The magnification is the same as it had been before, but my screensaver is three times the size it should be. Changing the magnification doesn't do it. The only thing that works is rebooting and when I do I that all my gadgets are in the middle of the screen instead of at the right side where they when they went to sleep.
I have talked to several people about this and even went to Google. The people on Google only think it applies to laptops....not so. Mine is a pc. Once when I went to Google I plugged in " enlarged" picture, without the quotations and would you believe, I got a million hits and one of them actually pertained to my computer? I did not know so many parts of the human body could be enlarged.
I do love my computer and how I can write and store stuff on it. The problem? Where did I store it and how do I retrieve it? A story for another day.
Come back and visit again.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
'Fraidy Cat
" 'Fraidy Cat," said Myself.
" Am not." Me replied.
"Then open the door." Myself said.
" What door?", Me said.
"The one behind you. The one marked 'writer'," Myself said.
"Well, I will," Me said, scuffing a toe.
"Why not now? You're right here. It's right here," Myself explained.
"I don't want to do it in front of anybody,", Me said.
" Not just anybody. I am YOU," Myself said.
" Yeah, but you are right here."
"What are you hiding?"
" Nothing."
"What are you hiding from?" Myself asked.
" You."
" How can that be? I'm you."
"I know that. I just want to be the only one that does this. The only one to share. To choose what
"I share," Me said.
"Well, how you gonna do that? You know it's not just the two of us. I will want to be in on it, too."
" I know. I know."
"What else are you afraid of? What is dwelling behind that door?" Myself asked.
"A monster. A dragon, in fact. With wings and fire," Me shuddered.
" Are you crazy? There is no dragon. Maybe a spider or two," Myself said.
" Yes, with big hairy legs and bags full of venom," Me's eyes grew large as she spoke.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Just open the door, turn on the light and the spiders will scurry away.
"You are so silly." Myself reached for the door and Me slapped her hands away.
"No! That's not for you to do. It is for me to do! If I don't it the monster wins. Meaning if I don't
write my stories won't get told and will die before they are born. "
Myself shook her head and waited.
Me waited.
" What's going on? Why are you just standing there? Why don't you open the door?" Myself
asked.
" Waiting for the muse," Me replied.
" What's a muse and why does it have to show up?", Myself asked.
" The muse," Me sighed, "is what makes a writer a writer."
" Are you nuts? It's writing that makes a writer." She turned and stomped two steps away.
"No. Not nuts. Everything we read says you have to wait on the muse. If she doesn't show up, you
"can't write." Me explained.
"Let me get this straight. You can't be a writer unless you open the door. You can't write if the muse
"doesn't show up. AND you can't be a writer unless you write. Is that correct?" Myself questioned.
" Well. When you put it like that it sounds stupid, but yeah, that's about the way of it. That's not
"quite all of it, but yeah. Yeah. That's right." Me said.
"Why don't you start by opening the door. Let's what is really there." Myself said.
"I can't. I just can't", Me said.
"What do you think is going to be there? Spiders and dragons, but what else?" Myself tapped her
toes. Waiting.
" Dark. I expect it to be dark. Maybe lightning flashing, dragons fighting and giant spiders running
around." Me shuddered as she spoke.
"Oh, good grief," Me said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
" Impossible to open it. Won't. Can't." Me said.
" Um, what's gives here?" I asked.
" She won't open the door," Myself said.
" Why?", I asked.
" Scared. To. Death." Me replied.
" Of what?" I asked.
" Oh, trust me, you really don't want to know," Myself said.
" I do. I will.", I said.
" Spiders, dragons, and dark.", Me replied.
" Okay enough."
I opened the door.
" Good Grief," Myself said.
" Oh", Me said.
Out of the door came sunshine, the smell of sweet roses and ...a gecko with a briefcase marked,
' Writer'. He handed it to me and went back to lying in the sun.
" Am not." Me replied.
"Then open the door." Myself said.
" What door?", Me said.
"The one behind you. The one marked 'writer'," Myself said.
"Well, I will," Me said, scuffing a toe.
"Why not now? You're right here. It's right here," Myself explained.
"I don't want to do it in front of anybody,", Me said.
" Not just anybody. I am YOU," Myself said.
" Yeah, but you are right here."
"What are you hiding?"
" Nothing."
"What are you hiding from?" Myself asked.
" You."
" How can that be? I'm you."
"I know that. I just want to be the only one that does this. The only one to share. To choose what
"I share," Me said.
"Well, how you gonna do that? You know it's not just the two of us. I will want to be in on it, too."
" I know. I know."
"What else are you afraid of? What is dwelling behind that door?" Myself asked.
"A monster. A dragon, in fact. With wings and fire," Me shuddered.
" Are you crazy? There is no dragon. Maybe a spider or two," Myself said.
" Yes, with big hairy legs and bags full of venom," Me's eyes grew large as she spoke.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Just open the door, turn on the light and the spiders will scurry away.
"You are so silly." Myself reached for the door and Me slapped her hands away.
"No! That's not for you to do. It is for me to do! If I don't it the monster wins. Meaning if I don't
write my stories won't get told and will die before they are born. "
Myself shook her head and waited.
Me waited.
" What's going on? Why are you just standing there? Why don't you open the door?" Myself
asked.
" Waiting for the muse," Me replied.
" What's a muse and why does it have to show up?", Myself asked.
" The muse," Me sighed, "is what makes a writer a writer."
" Are you nuts? It's writing that makes a writer." She turned and stomped two steps away.
"No. Not nuts. Everything we read says you have to wait on the muse. If she doesn't show up, you
"can't write." Me explained.
"Let me get this straight. You can't be a writer unless you open the door. You can't write if the muse
"doesn't show up. AND you can't be a writer unless you write. Is that correct?" Myself questioned.
" Well. When you put it like that it sounds stupid, but yeah, that's about the way of it. That's not
"quite all of it, but yeah. Yeah. That's right." Me said.
"Why don't you start by opening the door. Let's what is really there." Myself said.
"I can't. I just can't", Me said.
"What do you think is going to be there? Spiders and dragons, but what else?" Myself tapped her
toes. Waiting.
" Dark. I expect it to be dark. Maybe lightning flashing, dragons fighting and giant spiders running
around." Me shuddered as she spoke.
"Oh, good grief," Me said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
" Impossible to open it. Won't. Can't." Me said.
" Um, what's gives here?" I asked.
" She won't open the door," Myself said.
" Why?", I asked.
" Scared. To. Death." Me replied.
" Of what?" I asked.
" Oh, trust me, you really don't want to know," Myself said.
" I do. I will.", I said.
" Spiders, dragons, and dark.", Me replied.
" Okay enough."
I opened the door.
" Good Grief," Myself said.
" Oh", Me said.
Out of the door came sunshine, the smell of sweet roses and ...a gecko with a briefcase marked,
' Writer'. He handed it to me and went back to lying in the sun.
Monday, January 13, 2014
500 Words a Day Challenge
Jeff Goins, founder of Tribe Writers and a writer that I have followed for several years, has issued a challenge to all writers to hit 500 words a day in January.
I decided to accept the challenge. I haven't done badly in upholding my end of it.
It just seems that Life gets in the way. I am not someone who can or will get up at 4am just to get my words in. We are retired. Which may mean just tired. I sleep until I wake up and then start my day. It usually ends about 10pm. All this means is that I have to find the time somewhere in the day to do it.
Aside from finding the time to do this the other problem is my mind.
It is a squirrel in a cage. It bounces from one side of the cage to the other, runs up the wall and looks at all the shiny ideas that come by. It cannot settle on any one thing.
My thoughts run through the cage and the mind cannot catch them. It tries. There are so many pretty ideas. Which one can I tame and write about. Maybe the stars that shine between the limbs of the tree, or maybe why the crows play in my driveway puddle or possibly the things I love.
Sometimes heavy thoughts come by for a fly through...when does life begin, when does it end, and what am I going to do with mine.
Most of writing is just words strung together. Words. No beginning, no middle and no end, just a quitting.
How do you manage to hitch the ideas to the words or the words to the ideas and make sense?
Well, there is no magic, no one size fits all, but I can tell you that the words you put together the better you get at it. We may not all be Robert B. Parker or James Michener, but we can each put our stories on paper and let people read and learn what and who we are.
I do love the idea of writing. Of perhaps becoming the next big thing in writing. The one thing I know that makes me a writer. I write.
I hope you enjoy these words and others that are here.
Come back again and visit.
I decided to accept the challenge. I haven't done badly in upholding my end of it.
It just seems that Life gets in the way. I am not someone who can or will get up at 4am just to get my words in. We are retired. Which may mean just tired. I sleep until I wake up and then start my day. It usually ends about 10pm. All this means is that I have to find the time somewhere in the day to do it.
Aside from finding the time to do this the other problem is my mind.
It is a squirrel in a cage. It bounces from one side of the cage to the other, runs up the wall and looks at all the shiny ideas that come by. It cannot settle on any one thing.
My thoughts run through the cage and the mind cannot catch them. It tries. There are so many pretty ideas. Which one can I tame and write about. Maybe the stars that shine between the limbs of the tree, or maybe why the crows play in my driveway puddle or possibly the things I love.
Sometimes heavy thoughts come by for a fly through...when does life begin, when does it end, and what am I going to do with mine.
Most of writing is just words strung together. Words. No beginning, no middle and no end, just a quitting.
How do you manage to hitch the ideas to the words or the words to the ideas and make sense?
Well, there is no magic, no one size fits all, but I can tell you that the words you put together the better you get at it. We may not all be Robert B. Parker or James Michener, but we can each put our stories on paper and let people read and learn what and who we are.
I do love the idea of writing. Of perhaps becoming the next big thing in writing. The one thing I know that makes me a writer. I write.
I hope you enjoy these words and others that are here.
Come back again and visit.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Jingle Bell Christmas
On this snowy, wintry Sunday morning in the Ozarks, we are putting away Christmas decorations and going to the mundane, every other day decorations. As I pick up and put away each piece, I am reminded how it came to be in my home.
The stable for my Nativity set had been found at a garage sale with another nativity set in it. I didn't like that set as well as one that had been given to me, for Christmas, by our newly married son and wife. So, they were traded out. I gave the unwanted Nativity to someone else. The nativity fit handily into the stable. Now, they are one.
There is a star of gold thread pinned on the wall above it. It came from a now forgotten purchase and was not used for a couple of years, because I couldn't find a place for it. Then I put my nativity on the mantle and discovered that the nativity needed a star. How could the wise men find it if there were no star? And my eye fell on the star. It has now been on the wall in that spot for two years. Even when it isn't Christmas. We always need a star.
This year our daughter and her family gave me a large Jingle Bell, decorated and says "Welcome". When I commented that she had given me one last year, the reply was, " Of course". I had not thought of it before, but, as I took the ornaments off the tree, there were two from her that were Mickey and Minney Mouse with jingle bells for bodies. As I counted my ornaments, well, handled them anyway, I saw how many were jingle bells and most of them from her. So, she has always tried to make it a Jingle Bell Christmas for us.
I have five ornaments from young friends of ours who, she and the kids, make an ornament a year for us. Some of them are intricate, some are simple, but all are special. Among these ornaments is a jingle bell.
Jingle bells are special. They remind me of "Dashing through the snow", even if I never have, and of all the bells that ring on Christmas day to remind us of the birth of Christ. Jingle bells are soft and gentle in sound and remind us that Christ is gentle in his coming to us.
When you see a jingle bell, whether it be a little one on the shoes of a child, or a big one that says,
"Welcome", remember it is a gentle reminder that Christ came softly into the world.
Have a blessed day.
The stable for my Nativity set had been found at a garage sale with another nativity set in it. I didn't like that set as well as one that had been given to me, for Christmas, by our newly married son and wife. So, they were traded out. I gave the unwanted Nativity to someone else. The nativity fit handily into the stable. Now, they are one.
There is a star of gold thread pinned on the wall above it. It came from a now forgotten purchase and was not used for a couple of years, because I couldn't find a place for it. Then I put my nativity on the mantle and discovered that the nativity needed a star. How could the wise men find it if there were no star? And my eye fell on the star. It has now been on the wall in that spot for two years. Even when it isn't Christmas. We always need a star.
This year our daughter and her family gave me a large Jingle Bell, decorated and says "Welcome". When I commented that she had given me one last year, the reply was, " Of course". I had not thought of it before, but, as I took the ornaments off the tree, there were two from her that were Mickey and Minney Mouse with jingle bells for bodies. As I counted my ornaments, well, handled them anyway, I saw how many were jingle bells and most of them from her. So, she has always tried to make it a Jingle Bell Christmas for us.
I have five ornaments from young friends of ours who, she and the kids, make an ornament a year for us. Some of them are intricate, some are simple, but all are special. Among these ornaments is a jingle bell.
Jingle bells are special. They remind me of "Dashing through the snow", even if I never have, and of all the bells that ring on Christmas day to remind us of the birth of Christ. Jingle bells are soft and gentle in sound and remind us that Christ is gentle in his coming to us.
When you see a jingle bell, whether it be a little one on the shoes of a child, or a big one that says,
"Welcome", remember it is a gentle reminder that Christ came softly into the world.
Have a blessed day.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Writing
I have joined a group of people that is going to write 500 words every day through the month of January.
I have decided to blog about my experience and let everyone know I am doing this. Writing has been a passion of mine for a very long time. Not necessarily story telling, but writing. I like to write letters, play word games and spell.
Some people love numbers. I love words. I think they can trip off your tongue or trip up your thoughts. I love them and want to get better at writing them. Making them tell a story.
I have made cards for special occasions for years, but the art work pretty much sucks. I hone in on the words and what they say and how to arrange them to say what I want them to say. Not just the words but the arrangement of them on the paper.
It is a new year. Time for new beginnings and old loves to come to the forefront of our lives. Every day starts a new year. We just don't acknowledge it as a culture other than on January 1. I am going to become someone who writes. Not just one who thinks about it, talk about it or read about it. I am going to do it.
Come along with me and enjoy the ride.
Thanks for listening.
I have decided to blog about my experience and let everyone know I am doing this. Writing has been a passion of mine for a very long time. Not necessarily story telling, but writing. I like to write letters, play word games and spell.
Some people love numbers. I love words. I think they can trip off your tongue or trip up your thoughts. I love them and want to get better at writing them. Making them tell a story.
I have made cards for special occasions for years, but the art work pretty much sucks. I hone in on the words and what they say and how to arrange them to say what I want them to say. Not just the words but the arrangement of them on the paper.
It is a new year. Time for new beginnings and old loves to come to the forefront of our lives. Every day starts a new year. We just don't acknowledge it as a culture other than on January 1. I am going to become someone who writes. Not just one who thinks about it, talk about it or read about it. I am going to do it.
Come along with me and enjoy the ride.
Thanks for listening.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
I Haven't Been Here Before
When you hear those words " I haven't been here before" you usually think geographically.
When I think of them, I think age.
You haven't been here before, because you have not been this old before and you will never be this young again. At least chronologically. You may act young, but not be young. You are as young as you feel. Um, nobody wants to be that old. As you age your body cannot do what it did ten years ago. Oh, you may still be able to bend and walk and jump and run, but trust me, it is not nearly as pretty as it once was.
Your memory is different. Everyone forgets stuff and appointments, but when you are below 40 everyone says, " Aw, you just have a lot on your mind", at 60 they are ready to get the Alzheimer drugs for you. Really, it is the same kind of stuff at 60 as at 40, just too much on your mind. At 40 it may be the kids ballgames, your work agenda, your spouse, and your dog. At 60 it may be the grand kids ballgames, their work agenda and their spouse. They don't have time for a dog, so you get the dog and it's stuff. But it is still just stuff.
Your body is different. It now has gray hair, and probably less of it, aches and pains that were just a nuisance are now a challenge. You learn to ignore them and go on, or you see the doctor and get pills to help. Then you get to deal with the side affects.
Getting older is not necessarily fun, but you can have fun dealing with the newness of it. And creative. How many of you under the age of 40 know six ways of getting something out of your reach? I do. Depending on whether it is high or low. If high, get a stool, with rails, use your pick up utensil, whether a rod, tongs or a long-handled spoon, reach high and stretch. On the low side, hands and knees, which takes longer than getting in the car and go buy a new one, reach with utensil, or call your spouse to get it for you.
All of this is to say, that we adjust to what God gives us to do and do it as well as we can.
Enjoy your age. Until, next time.
When I think of them, I think age.
You haven't been here before, because you have not been this old before and you will never be this young again. At least chronologically. You may act young, but not be young. You are as young as you feel. Um, nobody wants to be that old. As you age your body cannot do what it did ten years ago. Oh, you may still be able to bend and walk and jump and run, but trust me, it is not nearly as pretty as it once was.
Your memory is different. Everyone forgets stuff and appointments, but when you are below 40 everyone says, " Aw, you just have a lot on your mind", at 60 they are ready to get the Alzheimer drugs for you. Really, it is the same kind of stuff at 60 as at 40, just too much on your mind. At 40 it may be the kids ballgames, your work agenda, your spouse, and your dog. At 60 it may be the grand kids ballgames, their work agenda and their spouse. They don't have time for a dog, so you get the dog and it's stuff. But it is still just stuff.
Your body is different. It now has gray hair, and probably less of it, aches and pains that were just a nuisance are now a challenge. You learn to ignore them and go on, or you see the doctor and get pills to help. Then you get to deal with the side affects.
Getting older is not necessarily fun, but you can have fun dealing with the newness of it. And creative. How many of you under the age of 40 know six ways of getting something out of your reach? I do. Depending on whether it is high or low. If high, get a stool, with rails, use your pick up utensil, whether a rod, tongs or a long-handled spoon, reach high and stretch. On the low side, hands and knees, which takes longer than getting in the car and go buy a new one, reach with utensil, or call your spouse to get it for you.
All of this is to say, that we adjust to what God gives us to do and do it as well as we can.
Enjoy your age. Until, next time.
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