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Browsing Tag: #writingprompt
I’m not crazy, I’m just bored. Allow me to explain how this “seed” was planted: a few weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend. She was leaving work early that day to go home and can beans. This is a pretty common reason to miss work around these parts, at least in my circle, this time of year. Whether it’s harvesting hay, soybeans, tobacco, or canning, farm work won’t wait on office work. ‘Gotta make hay while the sun shines’ as the saying goes. It would be more accurate if it was ‘while the sun beats down and tries to kill you’, but close enough. So anyway, I was telling her I still have beans my grandmother canned, and she died in 2008. I wouldn’t be scared to eat them; they look alright and have been kept in a dark cabinet upstairs where the temperature doesn’t fluctuate. My friend said that one of her wedding presents from her in-laws was several jars of green beans. They’d been stored in the basement, wrapped in newspaper. And it got me to thinking about the life of a green bean. Some country music artists have written songs about teardrops, and I don’t see much difference. So here goes. I am told that my mother plant was designed and cultivated on a vast farm in Oregon, among many other certified seeds. I only remember life since I became packaged with roughly 400 of my…
I like to think that my writing is a gift I have. Y’all tell me so, and I want to believe you. You say that reading my words is just like having me in the room with you, chatting. And that makes my heart swell. Because ain’t nothing worse than pretentious writing. I have a little sign above my desk that reminds me every day to be thankful. It says, “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”~Pablo Picasso I think I do. Even if I’ve had half a pot of coffee, I can write. Even when I hurt, maybe especially when I hurt, I can still write. I may not be writing about the thorn itself, but I’ll be circling it like a shark circles its prey. My other gift is my hair. It gives y’all something undeniable on which to blame my crazy. You’re welcome. It’s also a gift to me from God, that way I can shrug and say, “What’d you expect? I’m a redhead.” I think my hair was the gateway that got me here. It’s wild, and people are drawn to it. When there’s nothing else to talk about, when we’ve exhausted the weather, and what we do for a living, conversation will unfailingly turn to…
My stomach turned on this one. If it helped me, was it a mistake? No. I tend to be rash. I am notorious for thinking it and saying it in the same split second. I don’t think about consequences. This is a fault. I recognize this. I’m gonna turn lighthearted because I can’t write about the real mistakes today. Not today. Almost all involve trust and love. Doughnuts. Chinese food. Biscuits. Mountain Dew. Cake. Cupcakes. Butter. French fries. Cheese. Cheeseburgers. Bacon. Mocha lattes. Caramel ice cream. Fried oysters. Fried chicken. Fruity, sugary, alcoholic-y drinks. Chocolate. Pasta. Rolls. Ranch dressing. Barbecue. Cream cheese. Brown sugar. Caramel. All of these things were mistakes that helped me grow…..around…
Well, that’s a loaded question. I suppose, to put it simply, just the rest of my life. 2019 was hard. It wasn’t awful, it was a sight better than 2018. I got to do quite a bit of traveling and spent some time in my favorite places. I always look forward to seeing new places; I have a vacation scheduled for Outer Banks. I’m also hoping to visit Graceland and see the ducks at the Peabody and stroll down Beale. We’ll see. I hope to eat some fine food and meet interesting, engaging people. I want to spend time in the company of those who make me laugh so hard my sides ache the next day. I want to reflect on how far I’ve come. I want work to be fulfilling, and I want to see conservation practices making a difference. I want the hellbenders to flourish. I desire love. I want to be happy. I need to feel content. I want the same thing everybody wants. I want to be appreciated and cherished. This one was short and sweet, like me…
Nothing was going as planned. If you know me, you’re probably surprised to learn I even HAVE a plan. I admit, my plan normally never stretches further than what I will be consuming for my three meals that day. But I sometimes will plan vacations months in advance, especially if it’s a new destination. I don’t want to miss anything in the event I can never return, so I like to have all my high points mapped and time allocated to enjoy them. I have enough to plan for in the course of a month between board meetings and bills, I don’t like to have to commit to much in between. I plan to go to bed between 10-11. I plan to get up by 6:30. I plan to stay at work until 4. You know. Plans. Plus all the plans I have for cleaning, writing, reading, watching TV, exercising. When you think about it, you’ve got your whole life planned out in this manner. If you’re married, you plan to see it through, growing old on a porch swing, watching your grandchildren frolic in the evening twilight, catching lightning bugs. Oh wait. I mean tapping on their tablet in front of your 60″ HD Smart TV. My plans rarely work out. I tend to over schedule myself and then panic halfway through my day when I’ve only accomplished the one thing. Nothing…
{WP#482. A scientist created a new animal today} Breaking: Houston, TX. Associated Press Herschel Barnes, PhD, of Bayloyre Genetics, has successfully created a new creature, a hybrid formed from a nine banded armadillo (Latin: Dasypus novemcinctus) and a black tailed jackrabbit (Latin: Lepus californicus). This is not a prank, coming from the age old play of the “jackalope”. It is unknown at this time how successful captive breeding will be, as armadillos can weigh upwards of 100 pounds, while jackrabbits are a modest seven. Dr. Barnes is reported to say, “I was just messing around, seeing what I could create. When the sperm and egg fused, it was a Friday afternoon and I didn’t go home until Monday.” They’re calling it “Armarabbit”. The creature can leap a measured 17 feet flat footed, and gains an additional twelve feet if given a running start. It rivals the Kangaroo Rat for distance in relation to body size. It features long, sinewy hind legs with two inch toenails. The front feet are largely useless, and almost completely covered with scales. The reduced ears give it more of a dinosaur appearance with tufts of hair on the underside and scales topside. We were unable to secure a picture, as the world-renowned scientist is keeping things under wraps until more is researched. It is an omnivore, preferring plants over grubworms and roadkill (this reporter does, too!). By and large nocturnal, the corporation has…
Wallyworld was closed when Chevy Chase finally managed to arrive, and so was the closest bar-be-cue joint by the time I got there. I breathed in slowly through my nose, like I was taught to do in yoga. It wasn’t the end of the world, this was a first world problem, but just what I wouldn’t do for some pulled pork and slaw. My one and only coworker had grated on my nerves all day, badmouthing our President and leaders, poking his nose in ALL of my business, pretending he knew me better than I knew myself. It’s a dang wonder I hadn’t thrown my stapler at him. On top of that, I had an appointment with my accountant after the grueling day at work. I despise doing adult things like that. If I never have to see another lawyer, doctor, or banker, that would be just fine by me. As a matter of fact, I decided on the spot, if I ever hit the lottery, they’d be the first people I’d do away with. As quick as I could get me a financial adviser nailed down (Monte B, I’m looking at you), the next person I’d hire would be someone to manage my other business. I would never have to schedule another appointment or ask questions about my money. I could literally just drift along on the high seas from the…
{#907 You are the main attraction at an old timey carnival side show} I was born a siren eighty miles off the coast of the Emerald Isle. The waters were cold, but my beauty was a flame that kept me warm. I swam wherever I wanted, only mindful of the big wooden ships steaming out for America every day. I batted my tail up sometimes, quick as a hiccup, making the sailors wonder if they saw anything at all. Maybe it was just the glimmer of the sun on the water. Maybe they missed their girl already. I dreamed of having sparkling jewelry made of diamonds and sapphires, not these devoid of color pearls. I wanted legs to dance on. I wanted a life on land. There was one way to obtain it. I could trade my fin forever by luring a man to his death. Girls did it all the time, we were known to be mesmerizing. And we would possess the same beauty on land as we did in the sea, just without our giant, beautiful tail to propel us along. We would be known as vixens. It would be easy enough: wait for a foggy night with a still sea, begin my enchantment by singing my siren song, beckon them closer, closer, until his eyes go gooey with lust, and then catapult out of the water like I was going in for just a kiss but really going for his heart. Or his legs, be that as…
I sat on a salt worn, splinter ridden, slate grey deck outside a restaurant in Newport Bay, Oregon. I ate a Cobb salad and couldn’t resist sharing with the sea lions scattered on the rocky beach below me. Tomato and bit of egg for me, lettuce for you. Cucumber drenched in ranch dressing for me….more lettuce for you. Between their barking and the squall of seagulls, the waves breaking onshore were nearly drowned out. Perfect background noise for this dismal June day. Dismal only because it was June and June is supposed to be bright and just becoming uncomfortably hot. Not rainy and 50 degrees. But the Pacific Northwest isn’t known for enchanting weather. Majestic trees and rocky shorelines, yes. And, of course, The Goonies. I was supposed to be setting foot in Ireland right about now, but instead I was watching seals on a buoy a few hundred yards out. It wasn’t so bad. The temperature was probably about the same. Less bars and yuppier people, but that was okay too. I wasn’t in much of a mood for socializing. I wondered about the seals on the buoy. Did they swim out there, away from their counterparts for a bit of a break? Did they aim to stake out a claim on their own private real estate only to be accosted by “friends” who wanted company? I’m glad I was alone on my deck in…
My Grandmother had died. We were planning her non-funeral and trying to determine what to put on a headstone. She wasn’t a religious woman. Nothing seemed right, all these pat phrases about healing and peace and joy. She was probably a little mad about dying, to tell you the truth. She wasn’t done watching her stories, or watching her grandson grow up. She was pretty much done with me, though, I’ll tell you that. My grandmother was a PISTOL, right up to the end. I went to great lengths not to cross her. She had everything wrote out, which my mother decided to blatantly disobey. She didn’t want her name in the paper under obituaries “because it ain’t nobody’s damn business when I die”, she didn’t want a funeral “because I don’t want anybody lookin’ at me while I’m layin’ there, dead” and she didn’t want a preacher “cause they’re all a bunch of liars.” Well. She swore she’d haunt us, but I didn’t think she would because she didn’t want to die in the house on account of me being afraid to live there. More on that in a minute. But mom wasn’t scared of her, and neither was Uncle Dale, so they conspired to give a memorial service. Nobody…
