Tag Archive | writing 101

Put Another Nickle In

I like any of Rascal Flatts songs. I like their themes of love and heartbreak. Here’s a mix. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPcASvgb7yg Jay and Gary from the Columbus, Ohio area, and Joe Don from Picher, Oklahoma, teamed up in a club in Nashville’s Printers Alley. They won more awards than anyone in country music.

If you follow Meredith’s Musings you might have seen a short post about Gregorian Chants, another type of music I like. I like men chanting more than women. I don’t have a particular one that I like. This is often background music that I use when I pray and meditate.

You know a limit of 3 pieces or types of music that I respond to doesn’t begin to cover all the songs that have sent waves of ecstasy flooding my soul, or tears from the sheer beauty of one piece or another. I sang in a choir all my life and have a long history of singing hymns old and new from which to choose. I mustn’t forget to mention Celtic music that reverberates with the joy of the melody, harmony and soulful lyrics.

I think my readers might like to know, and I do like to attract readers, that this was a favorite of mine when it was released by the Righteous Brothers in 1965. That’s a long time from when the song was used in the 1990 film Ghost. Alex North and Hy Zaret wrote “Unchained Melody,” It is one of the most recorded songs of the 20th century.

Day 20

I’m using and expanding day 16.

Accumulating stuff is overrated. Before you know it you can contract the disease of hoarding. If one gives their mind over to acquiring stuff exclusively, it can become a mental illness. I discovered when a loved one dies, going through their belongings is sad and tedious. Don’t forget the family squabbles that can erupt; sometimes leading to fractured family units that never repair themselves. It came to me how much happier I’d be if I could give things away instead of listing everything in a will. I wanted to see my loved ones enjoy my treasures. It’s a good thing I did, because I’m not a soothsayer; soon I would be forced to divest myself of nearly all my worldly goods.

I discovered my granny’s crocheted tablecloth that she made for my mother as I was going through boxes that had been in storage. Mary Elizabeth Markham Dixon is the one who inspired me to learn to crochet, a skill I still practice. I have her crochet hooks, though I don’t use them. They are for fine, delicate work like the tablecloth.
granny's hooks
Granny could make her needles fly, turning out antimacassars, doilies for the backs of chairs, and other decorative pieces. She even crocheted a dress for me with a blue satin ribbon around the waist.

My mother used the tablecloth every day on her cherry table. It was part of my inheritance and I used it for special occasions. It was packed away on a move and forgotten until I went on my spree to find things to give away. I captured a photo of the work of art before it was once again packed away for my move to Huntington Beach, California. 2011_1213grannycrocheting0161

In my blog about the art of crochet you’ll see I’m making an afghan for my youngest son and his bride, Michael and Jodee. I like making afghans for my family, and that requires larger hooks than my granny’s slender metal hooks.
my hooks
The completed Aran afghan looks like this
aran knit
It’s displayed on a queen size bed, so it is adequate to cover son’s 6’3″ fame. His step-daughter liked it so well she asked me to make one for her. If I don’t get busy she’ll think I’m never going to finish. pink afghan

I wish I had a clever segue here, but I never do in conversation, so why try here. Another thing I treasure is my health. You’d never know by what I did this morning. My sister went to Shipley’s Donut Shop and bought treats for her grandsons. She brought us an egg and bacon croissant that we shared. I requested an apple fritter that we would share later. I’m sorry to admit it but I gave in to temptation and started pulling little pieces from the fritter. As soon as I came to my senses I came upstairs to my desk and picked up on my work for day 20. Before long my brain was awash in carbohydrates/sugar from my breakfast. At this point my writing became sloppy and disjointed. I stopped and sought a remedy, I take 5 mL/cc of injectable Humulin for occasions like this. I don’t do it often, but it is necessary. Most of the time I manage with an eating plan and Metformin pills take orally. When I do have to inject it keeps me on the narrow path to health for a while.
SUGAR + DIABETES = POISON. SKULL AND

Father, help me to control my appetite for sugary treats and enjoy the beautiful natural bounty of fruit and vegetables. Amen

Day 19 Free Writing

I’m tapping into the flow of thoughts and putting it on the screen, one key at a time. Sometimes the topics popup so fast it’s difficult to keep up. the last 5 years have been unsettling to say the least. Discovery of fraud perpetrated on my son and me; loosing my home and selling everything; a move to California for 2 years; a move Tennessee. Enough! I’ve had enough stress to manage for the rest of my life. But still I get back up only with the help of my creator and the wonderful friends and family he sends in my support. I learned to ask when I needed help. I had too much pride. Pride is one of the character flaws that stand between me and God.

The boys, 2 nephew’s spent the night. I love these boys. The youngest has a game to night, baseball. They are in the playoffs. It’s overcast and threatening rain. I hope it stays away tonight, and I hope the rain is over by then. I think I’ll try to go.

The one thing stress has done is rob me of my physical stamina and balance. I had a stroke in December; son got me to the emergency room in under an hour and the shoot saved me from long lasting irreversible damage.

Tomorrow I’m invited to a sing at the Watertown Church of Christ. Churches form the surrounding area come together to sing and have supper. I Think I’ll drive over in the afternoon and spend the night. I don’t like to drive at night and especially by myself. I know they’ll say yes, so I’m planning on going. One day at a time, second by second.

I have a piece waiting to be finished for day 20 and one for http://coveyview.worldpress.com/. If you haven’t checked us out, visit and see what’s going on around the world. I gat a group of bloggers to join me in creating this page after the Blogging University 201. We are an international site and we write, well go see some of our categories. Please let me know if you are interested in becoming a member and a contributor. We welcome all. Some of our folks haven’t written yet. You know how that goes making a living, managing a family, writing two blogs is a tremendous activity. I don’t think we have any couch potatoes in the group. Many of us, maybe all of us have difficulties but we came together and created this great space for you to brag about your home, your town, city, state, country, your home. Woopsie, how did that happen – 428!?!

Happy life everyone!

Crying Time

I baby sit my little brother in the summer while my momma works. I know I can’t leave Willis alone; I can’t leave our yard; I can’t call her at work; and I don’t talk to strangers. I’m 12 so I remember all the rules and do what momma tells me, ‘cause she works so hard.

Willis and I were playin’ in the front room with his Legos, when I heard a lot of noise outside. I took him to sit with me on the front stoop to see what was going on. Ms. Pearl is out in front of her house. She has her apron up on her face. I think she’s crying. It makes me sad ‘cause I love Ms. Pearl. Willis doesn’t know Ms. Pearl, but I do. She asks momma to let me come stay with her when it storms, ‘cause she’s afraid. I’m a big girl and I’m not afraid of nothing. Ms. Pearl lets me drink coffee. She fixes just how I like it with lots of milk and sugar. I don’t tell momma I drink coffee at Ms. Pearl’s ‘cause she won’t let me drink coffee.

There are a bunch of men moving Ms. Pearl’s couch and rocker and other stuff on the lawn. After a while I can’t stand it. I tell Willis to sit on the stoop and wait for me ‘cause I’m going to see why Ms. Pearl’s crying. I know I’m not supposed to but I got to know why she’s so sad. Willis shakes his head ok, he doesn’t talk much being he’s only 3. Ms. Pearl only lives across the street 2 houses down. I know to look both ways before crossing.

I ask Ms. Pearl what’s wrong. She tells me she can’t pay the rent anymore and Mr. Smyth is making her leave. I really cry then ‘cause I don’t want her to go. Why can’t her kids help her? She tells me they don’t come around anymore as they have families of their own to worry about. Ms. Pearl takes me in her arms and dries my tears with her apron and tells me everything will be alright. I know that isn’t so, that’s what momma told me when daddy left. Nothing is ever the same again. Then she takes me by the hand, calls me child, and walks me home. She knows I’ve been bad to leave Willis. But we can see him and he’s still on the stoop playing with his match box cars. He’s ok, but he’s not old enough to know better. I wish I were Willis right now so I wouldn’t know.

Dinner Out

Charles Robert Johnson pulled the rusty gray car into a parking place in front of the Family Style Restaurant. The family waited until the car shuddered to a full stop. Charles Robert emerged, stretching to his full 5’2″. He smoothed down his thinning hair, thick with Brylcreem. He opened his wife’s door. He turned and opened the rear door, out stepped two carbon copies of Charles Robert. The boys pushed at each other. One grim look from Charles Robert and the two boys silenced and righted themselves. Gertrude and the boys fell into step behind Charles and entered through the dirty, double glass doors. Charles Robert placed a firm hand on Trudy’s back and ushered the group to a booth. The Family Style offered a buffet of country fare, fried chicken, fried okra, mushy canned green beans, instant mashed potatoes, an assortment of sad salads, and a desert table, an all you can eat establishment at an affordable cost.

Charles Robert stood and smoothed down his hair with one hand and beckoned to the boys with the other. Skinny legs and arms pushed out of their seats and walked in front of their father to a stack of chipped white plates. Trudy made her way to a drink station and poured glasses of sweet tea from the hazed plastic pitchers. After they settled into their booth, Charles Robert bowed his head and uttered a blessing over the food. The family ate without a word to each other. The boys were encouraged to return to the buffet to eat their fill. They all had a desert or two. Trudy kept everyone’s glass filled with tea. It is notable that they did not speak during or after the meal.

The family lined up to watch their father count out the exact amount due for their dinner from a roll of bills held with a rubber band. Charles Robert led his family back to the dilapidated car, he and the boys escorted Trudy to the passenger side, and their father put them in the rear.

If we could open the trunk of Charles Robert Johnson’s rusty car, we would be surprised by the tools of his trade.
rusty
What do you think Charles Robert Johnson does for a living? Is he:
1. a garage mechanic,
2. a share cropper,
3. a burglar and killer?

Rediscovered Treasure

I have a peculiar bent; I don’t like to accumulate stuff. I discovered when loved one dies that going through their belongings is a sad, tedious and sometimes a happy time. It came to me how much happier I’d be if I could give things away instead of listing everything in a will. I wanted to see my loved ones enjoy my treasures.

Thus began my systematically tackling one room at a time to sort and distribute what I could find to give away. That is how I discovered my granny’s crocheted table-cloth that she made for my mother. 2011_1213grannycrocheting0161

My mother used it every day on her cherry dining room table; it was part of my inheritance and I used it for special occasions. It was packed away on a move and forgotten until I went on my spree to find things to give away.

My granny kept me when I was a baby. She and I formed a strong bond, and I loved her very much. She is the one who inspired me to learn to crochet a skill I still practice. I have her crochet hooks, though I don’t use them. They are for fine, delicate work like the table-cloth. I like making afghans for my family, and that requires larger needles.

After I re-discovered the table-cloth I couldn’t part with it. I started to use it again. Even today after a move to California and another one back to Tennessee I have her beautiful work of art, an heirloom and a prized possession I’m not ready to give away.

 

Permanent Closure

 

Public Notice 6060614

By Order of the Office of the Attorney General

Of United States of America

July 4, 2222

All churches, regardless of creed, sect or name, are hereby closed. Any person or persons caught on the premises will be arrested for trespass. All meetings will desist; do not attempt to meet at any other location.

Authorization is given by Constitutional Amendment 329; all forms of religions are prohibited. All citizens will conform to the State Religion. All other forms of religion are deemed unpatriotic and prohibited in all states and territories of the United States of America.

Any and all citizens who are deemed as protesting or breaking this law will be arrested and prosecuted to the full measure of the law.

Crowds gathered in front of the yellow tape reading the large public notice at every entrance of every church. Some were visibly crying, others shook their heads in disbelief too numb to speak. Many others gathered in small groups angrily protesting, while others put their heads in close and spoke in whispers as a member jotted notes.

People say they didn’t see any sign of the government going to this extreme. I ask, where were they when all mention of, or any quotation of the Bible, was expunged from all public buildings; when crosses were forcibly removed from all property; and all public schools stopped prayer anywhere on the premises, and the pledge of allegiance was banned? How could they plead ignorance when last January all Bibles were gathered from any public or private places and burned all across the nation? Many of my fellow believers have fought against it with all that is in them; but, the odds were so overwhelming against us we were defeated and branded as traitors. Many were arrested, and we can’t find out where they’ve been detained or their fate.

I wonder will we meet in secret as the believers in countries like East Germany, Russia and China have when the governments banned the Bible and church meetings. Who is brave enough to defy our power-hungry government? I recalled when we were ordered to surrender our Bibles that I read of a group in one country that had a page or two of the scriptures and would read from those when they met. When I told my church family we divided the Bible to commit to memory. Some of us tore Bibles into sections, thinking these would be easier to hide than one large Bible.

I wrote this to encourage everyone to read and consider all sides of arguments in the political sector to try to decide if today our own freedoms are being whittled away, little by little, especially over the last 20-30 years. Are we well apprised of history to make informed decisions? Are we too lazy to bother ourselves with what could occur to our generation and many generations to come who could suffer because of our inattention? Are we so set in our own thinking that we can’t make a paradigm shift?