Monday Miscellany

• I fell over trying to put my pants on this morning. Yes, that’s right, Queen Klutz is on the loose – and if I were you I’d just steer clear if you see her.

• On the other hand, I slept until 11:00 on Saturday! This used to be a regular occurrence back in the day, but once I became so decrepit my body wouldn’t let me stay in bed that long. Nice to know that my body will let me be so slothful. It’s like I’m a teenager again! Well, maybe not quite…

• Baseball is in full swing. I don’t know why, but I’ve felt very pessimistic about the Braves this year. And they’re first in their division! But it’s a weak first – the other National League division leaders have much better records. At least they’re not the Cubs :)

• Speaking of baseball, I was sad to hear about Tony Gwynn’s death.

• My friend Jenny made all of these bows for me back when I was leaving for Zambia. That was nearly 30 years ago – they’re antiques! I don’t know why I’ve kept them all these years. Sentiment? I had a drawer I wasn’t using? I’ve been tempted to wear worn some of them over the years, but now that I’m 50 I decided that I should probably pass them along to a little girl.

• Watch out world! I am this |  | close to writing a new poem. Maybe it’s more like this|          | close – but it’s gonna happen. Soon. 

How was your Monday?

Weekly Wordzzle – the cheese edition

Here I am posting my Wordzzle– early even! I've discovered that once I've used the words in a story it's hard for me to think of using them in a different way – which is why you mostly just get two stories or one big one. That will be the next thing for me to work on. Today's entries are short &, um, sweet?

You should go to Raven's blog to read the other Wordzzle participants. And join in – it can be addictive!

Here are the words for the mini: pepper, island, quintuplets, organic, treaty

I need to make peace with my digestive system. Perhaps a treaty of some kind? I'll avoid the organic pepper from now on, & it will avoid making me feel as though I'm giving birth to quintuplets. Otherwise I might have to move an island. I'm just sayin'.

And here is the 10-word challenge: swiss cheese, operation, frantic, quizzical, control, shallow, wedding, paranoid, orange, marginal

 Memory can be a fragile thing. Mine is often like swiss cheese – and I am frantic, looking for milk and brine and mystery to fill those holes. All my efforts are marginal, at best. I can't control what bides or dies in the shallow recesses of my mind. Of course this leaves me feeling paranoid. Why do you insist on shining a light into those cheeseless spaces? After all of these meals of ham & swiss you are surely not surprised that I can't remember whether or not I washed your orange t-shirt (which I did – I just put it in with my shirts by accident), or that I can't quite grasp the operation of the remote control? I remember the important things, like the barn what ain't a barn, and kissing your nose every night, and that quizzical look on your face after our wedding, and that you're the dearest in all the world (in all the world? In all the world…).

 

Poetry Bus and Wordzzle – When Memes Collide

I had decided to write a poem for the mini Wordzzle this week, and had just finished the scary little effort below when I read Argent's Poetry Bus instructions. The first ticket was to write something funny – I'm not sure I can top my grapefruit poem. But the second ticket definitely caught my eye:

Tunnel of (unrequited) Love. … it's not always easy to love and not be loved in return. What's it like when that certain special somebody doesn't even know you exist (it's called stalking - Ed). Are they with someone else? Are you jealous? Come and share the bittersweetness with your bus-travelling friends.

I'm not sure this mini poem meets all the requirements, but I couldn't ignore the synchronicity. Check out Delusions of Adequacy to read the other poems (most of which will be either VERY funny, or very bittersweet).

Words for the mini: shade tree, price, disappointment, power, camera

Sitting under a shade tree
fiddling with my camera
I've paid a price.
Bitter disappointment
wars with longing.
That longing has more
power over me
than your restraining order.

And, continuing with the Wordzzle, here is my effort for the 10-word challenge.

Words for the 10-word challenge: shark, Scotland, gravity, final hours, aggravation, heat wave, sweet tooth, killer, tragic, flowers

 "Ms. Bug, I don't believe you understand the gravity of the situation," said the lovely man at Scotland Yard. Despite his unwarranted aggravation with me, I could have listened to him talk all day. Swoon. I continue to be fascinated with the diversity of accents on my visit here in England.

"Oh no officer, I understand very well that you believe I was being a menace. But I don't understand why. Maybe it's this heat wave – it has you a bit tense." I was trying to lighten the atmosphere.

He did not smile at me, and in fact started looking like a menace his own self. His fleshy cheeks (or are they jowls? I think jowls, yes!) were quivering. I wondered if I should mention that he might consider ignoring his sweet tooth every now and then. Perhaps not, at this particular moment.

"Listen, officer, all I was trying to do was save the flowers from that killer! I was minding my own business on a tour of Buckingham Palace & I saw him – he was tramping all over the place with loppers and headed straight for the tulips. I just knew that something tragic would happen!"

"Ms. Bug," (this through clenched teeth), "surely you could see that he was the gardener just doing some pruning. And he wasn't anywhere near the flowers! There was no justification for you tackling him and putting him in a headlock. You assaulted the man!"

"Well, sure, I know now, but at the time I thought I was saving the Queen's tulips. God save the Queen's tulips?" With a scowl he marched stiffly from the room. Oh no, there was going to be no amity here. Apparently I was in real trouble.

Now here I sit in a small room awaiting my fate. These could be my final hours! Well, possibly just my final hours in England. Sigh. I could sure use old Rumpole about now. Or maybe his wife Hilda – she seems to have been more of a shark than he was.

Please note – I've never watched the Rumpole television show, but I've read several of the books that came after. Delicious! They are so much fun. I highly recommend them.

Please go to Raven's blog to read the other Wordzzle participants. And join in – it can be addictive!

Weekly Wordzzle

Words for this week's 10-word challenge are: smoothly, spiders, floor boards, eggs, carpet, moonshine, leaping, CD, purring, jewel And for the mini: spotlight, canvas, kitty, money-box, eye-drops

I decided that I like using all the words in one story best - probably because I'm too lazy to write more than one LOL. Go to Raven's blog to check out the other participants.

Uncle David wouldn't take an IOU for the kitty, so I was at loose ends Saturday night. I didn't really feel like playing poker anyway. Much. I decided to just chill & listen to my new CD by the Moonshine Mountain Boys. But then the phone rang, propelling me toward a destiny I would never have dreamed could be mine.

Adam had a plan. He'd heard a rumor about a fabulous jewel hidden in an abandoned building near the old foundry. He wanted to head over there right away and check out the place. I asked Adam who had given him the tip about the jewel. He said he overheard Kevin Lackey talking to someone else about it. Kevin Lackey. Seems like he had a grudge against Adam, but I couldn't remember exactly. Anyway, I wasn't excited about pulling up floor boards in a dusty old building - all on the chance that a tale told in a bar could be true. But the Moonshine Mountain Boys weren't really doing it for me, so I went. I packed two hard-boiled eggs and my eye-drops - just in case this took all night.

The building was even more dilapidated than I expected. In fact, I'm not sure there were any floor boards left in the place. I watched Adam smoothly leaping up onto a beam and decided that I was more comfortable down on the ground with the spiders. Well, maybe not comfortable exactly. Fact was I wasn't exactly comfortable about any of this. I stayed put on a small square of tattered carpet.

Adam called out from somewhere over my head, "Hey - bring the flashlight! I want to you to spotlight this hole in the wall." Obediently I clambered not smoothly up to where he was & shone the light. It didn't help much, but barely visible was a canvas bag shoved haphazardly into the narrow space. Adam pulled the bag out & after looking inside he pulled out an ancient money-box. We were getting pretty excited at this point. A money-box! Maybe there was a fortune in cash and jewels in there!

Of course it was locked. We decided to take it back to my place to see if we could pick it. We had started climbing down to the first floor when Adam asked, "Do you hear purring?" Yeah, I heard purring. We looked around and finally realized that the sound was coming from the box. Except that now it didn't sound like purring, exactly.

And that's the last thing I remember. Now I'm in a small room with some other people who look as dazed as I feel. I don't see Adam anywhere. Oh, here, they're calling my name - "Peter will see you now."

Weekly Wordzzle Challenge - Week 115

I did it! I wrote two stories instead of one. I am not super excited by either of them, but this is a learning process. Go to Raven's blog to see the other folks' offerings – in general they're more talented than I am (you must check out Argent's Harold series).

The mini: eeeeek a mouse!, span, spurn, choose me, geese

 Through the window I see the geese form an imperfect V in the sky – they're missing one to make it even. I'm lost in thought, imagining the fate of the missing goose. In my sadness I forget my mantra: pleasedon'tchoosemepleasedon'tchooseme – and I get picked for the game. I notice that I was only picked because I was the last one left. Most of the other players know my "skill" and spurn me. Sigh. Why can't I be left alone with my books? I wonder, if I screeched, "eeeeek a mouse!" could I sneak out the back door? I'd probably just get pulled back. Sigh. I look at the span of time before me – how much longer until I can steer clear of these games forever? Let's see, my daughter is 6. So, that's another 5 years of elementary school. Triple sighing, I say, "Why yes, I accept my nomination for the position of Home Room Parent Coordinator."

The 10-word: ear phones, sleeping, honest to goodness, lawn mower, cinnamon, matches, antibiotics, congregation, flower pot, cheese

I am ear phone incompetent – how do you keep those ones on little wires in your ears? I need some honest to goodness actual headphones instead. Disgusted, I toss them into the flower pot just inside the front door – the one with keys, matches & twist ties, not the one with an actual flower in it. I've just finished doing my biweekly dance with the lawn mower (I wish it would learn to let me lead!) and I'm feeling peckish. One brown sugar cinnamon pop tart with melted cheese later and I feel somewhat human again.

Checking the messages, I see one from my doctor's office. I've been having trouble sleeping. Every night there's a whole congregation of people in my head having a conversation – that doesn't include me. They talk around me, not to me. Some nights it's about how I should have stood up for myself at work. Other nights it's about why I think a brown sugar cinnamon pop tart with melted cheese is a good snack. These people are making me crazy. I'm hoping an antibiotic will do the trick.

The message from the doctor is short & to the point: "Ms. Bug, after reviewing your tests I have come to the conclusion that you are not physically ill. But I believe you would benefit from therapy. Here's the number of a competent therapist…"

I look around my empty house, filled with whispers. Filled. With whispers. Not in my head. In the house.

I pick up the phone and dial a local priest. I think that now I know how to get a good night's sleep.

P.S. For those who read my post about my dream Tuesday night – be careful what you wish for. I had a doozey of a dream last night & I remember every minute of it. And no I'm not going to tell you about it. Some surreal landscapes are best explored alone.

Weekly Wordzzle Challenge - Week 114

So I decided to try the Weekly Wordzzle again. And again I'm apparently too greedy to just use some of the words & have THREE stories – I have to use them all and just have one story. I think my goal next week might be to actually do at least two separate stories. We'll see. Go to Raven's blog to check out the other participants.

The 10-worder: Cleopatra, Saturday, perfume, suicide, guaranteed satisfaction, germs, stop in the name of love, Swiss cheese, cheap, luggage

The mini: gratitude, shadows, sufferin' succotash, flattery, piglet

Out of the Shadows

Saturday lunch with Cleopatra – an appointment I wasn't allowed to miss. My grandmother is a bit of a drama queen. Once, when I was leaving she sang out, "Stop in the name of love," as I looked at her in disbelief. Fortunately she didn't sing the rest of the song.  

Today I was dragging – sleepless nights and dark thoughts were my travelling companions. The last thing I wanted to do was spend an hour with my nutty grandmother.

Lunch was the same as always – strong perfume, Swiss cheese and ham sandwiches, and a discussion of whether hand sanitizer really killed germs as advertised. "Guaranteed Satisfaction" was a call to arms for my Gran Cleo. She didn't believe in flattery or guarantees. As usual, she had to tell the story of how she came to the city with just some cheap luggage and a piglet under her arm (I never could figure out what she meant to do with the piglet).

She said, "Sufferin' succotash Bug, I thought I had landed in the mouth of hell itself!"

 I said, "Yes, Gran, and you had to walk to work uphill, both ways, in four feet of snow."

"Well, no, Bug – that's not physically possible. But those were dark days. I felt as though I lived in shadows. I was alone with no friends & what felt like no hope for the future. In shadows and far from home."

I'd not heard this part of the story before. "What happened to make it better Gran?"

"A girl I knew from work committed suicide. For some reason that made so much sense to me. And I wondered if I would be next. I even bought a knife with a sharp blade to do the deed. But then I decided that I was just too nosy to leave this world without finding out what happens next. It was like starting a book & then putting it down half read. How would I know if the girl in 2C was really pregnant? What if I missed the flying cars & living on the moon? What if my ship came in & I wasn't there to greet it? I decided to finish the book. I shook off those shadows and went on with my life. Then I met your grandfather and he made the whole city shine like a freshly cut diamond. The diamond he gave me is what gets me through these days without him. And you – you get me through those days too – even if you don't care for my singing."

As I left that day I gave her the usual hug – but there was something extra. Gratitude for a story told right when I needed to hear it. When I got home that night I flushed my hoard of sleeping pills down the toilet and slept like a baby.

Weekly Wordzzle Challenge

Argent has been trying to get me to join this challenge for quite some time, but I don't think of myself as a story teller. But I do like to play with words, so I decided to give it a go this week. Go to Raven's blog to check out the rules & the words.

I started out doing the mini (the first five words/phrases), but I wasn't done with my story so I decided to use the words from the 10-worder & turn it into a mega! I don't think the story is all that special, but I was pleased that I used all the words in a somewhat natural manner.

The mini: glamorous, gin and tonic, fill in the blanks, water-logged, masterpiece

The 10-worder: chapter, vigorous, whipped cream, charter member, cut a rug, fling, sparingly, gravity, pregnant pause, universal

An Evening at the Gallery
 I don't know – I should probably have just stayed at home. I don't even like gin & tonic. I thought it would be refreshing and glamorous. Blech. It's not like I came here to see his "masterpiece." Masterpiece my giant behind. Blech. I guess I wanted to fill in the blanks of my diary.

• Attend Art Show. Check
• Drink a cocktail in public. Check

Oh, look – here he comes. Make nice. Talk pretty. Or, you know, just watch as he walks past you to greet some ancient crone in a water-logged wrap. She probably has money. Wait – water-logged? Is it raining? Well that just puts a cap on my night – why did I walk?

Here's the charter member of the artist's fan club. His mother. Does she know we had a fling in their pool house one evening last June? An indiscretion involving whipped cream and some rather vigorous flirting on my part after watching him cut a rug with some gorgeous creature. Not one of my finer moments. If she knew she'd probably read me chapter & verse about his excellent prospects and my rather lackluster self. It's one of the universal laws – no one is ever good enough for a mother's son.

With all the gravity I can muster I say, "You know, ma'am, it was just the one time. I'm not really interested in your son." Pregnant pause. One eyebrow lifted. "You know, young woman," she said, "you should perhaps go more sparingly on the gin next time." I said, "I don't even like gin." And promptly fell over sideways, bellowing "It's not the alcohol – I'm just a klutz!"

***

My mortification complete, I walk home in the rain, shoes in one hand, the other waving to the people I see on the street. I am the Queen of Humiliation, waving to my subjects.

One Year of the Bug, or Hasn’t Someone Called the Exterminator Yet?

I don't know if you noticed that I changed my look. It's all Jayne's fault. I spent two hours piddling around Wednesday night until I came up with something I liked. Mostly. There are a couple of things I don't like, but it was 11:00 and the Dayton basketball game was going off and I was done. I decided to make the change in honor of spring and my blogoversary!

Yes, I created my blog one year ago today. I had been wandering around the blogosphere reading and commenting and suddenly I was hit with an irresistible urge to join the fray. I think there might have been a virus going around.

At the time I thought that I would be totally anonymous so I could say what I thought. But as I may have mentioned in this post, I over-share. Couldn't keep it to myself. Next thing I knew I was emailing my blog to my dad, my sister-in-law, a cousin and four aunts. So, yes, there are now things that I wouldn't want to write on here. And that's ok. That's what therapy is for. If I were in therapy. Which maybe I should be.

Anyway, another goal besides emptying the contents of my head onto the World Wide Web was to have an outlet for my writing. You know, that stuff I did from the time I knew what a poem was (5^th grade. My first effort was Sally Jo's Curtains. If you make me mad I'll share it with you.) until . . . I don't know exactly what happened. Actually I do know what happened. I wasn't in school anymore & there was no one telling me, "WRITE!" So I didn't.

I don't know what I think about what I've written in the last year. We're our own worst critics, aren't we? And just because I love it doesn't make it good. But I am so happy (this should be said the way Maid Marian says it in Robin Hood, Men in Tights) to be back in the mode of seeing life through my fingertips.

Now I have to go write a poem about a yellow flower.

The road is no longer snowy, but shall we travel down it together a while?

Rain

The rain on my window sounds like bubble wrap being popped demurely – poppity pop. Or popcorn. Or hundreds of fingernails tapping softly. Hmmm. I’m thinking that this is why I’m not a novelist – aren’t you supposed to be able to write in metaphors & similes, and all those parenthetical descriptive ways? For me, this rain on my window really does sound like rain. On my window. As I commented on someone else’s blog recently, I’m a literal soul.

I’m intrigued by my own writing process – which is to say, my non-process. Basically a thought or poem or essay blooms in my head, fully formed & resists all efforts to modify or rewrite – draft isn’t really in my vocabulary. Except for this little post, obviously – there’s no blooming going on here! Just being contemplative while I listen to the rain.

How do you write? Maybe I’ll try some new method if it intrigues me enough…

And here’s a PSA: I had my annual mammogram yesterday. As usual, it was uncomfortable, but not painful. If you’re a woman over the age of 40 & you don’t get regular exams, please start now. It’s the perfect way to show that you love yourself – and your family & friends.