Through the Woods and Over the River

                      (A Winter's Tale by Deborah J Lindsey)

                  We have journeyed far this night,

                          Best Belov-ed.

                  We journeyed though the woods

                             lovely and dark.

                Save for a sliver of a pale moon

                         to light our path.

 

                     We met a travel weary poet          

                          and his sleigh horse.

                 The snow drifted about them,

                        glistening and deep.                     

          

                      The horse was not lost,

                       He was sure of the way.

     He stamped and snorted out his eager breath.

        And his harness bells jingled a song of home.

             

                    But The poet was lost,

              'He was hopelessly spellbound.

             Immersed in the magic of the woods

                  And the silence of the night.

                         He was a prisoner,

            Willingly ensnared in his web of words.

             We have journeyed far this night,

                              Best Belov-ed.

           Look yonder, over across this frozen river,

                  Where the lamp lights beckon,

            And the hearth fires crackle away the chill.  

                           Our Dear One waits,

                    Pink-cheeked and hungry eyed.

                       She stirs her bubbling kettle,

                       And longs to fill our bowls

                        With her warmth and love.

                  C Copyright December, 2016 by Deborah J Lindsey

Author's Note:  Many thanks to the   poster of this snap- an elf and a bunny looking across a frozen pond.  Perhaps, a lovely supper waited in one of the lamp-lit houses? Perhaps, a savory stew, fragrant and hearty for the elf and a pile of fresh hay and roasted carrot for the bunny?

Again, thanks for delighting my day with words.  DJL

I got inspired by a photo someone shared on Face Book and wrote about it I  I have spent the entire morning and well into the afternoon in perfect writer’s delight. Writing makes me happy. Bunnies make me happy. Elves, well I can take them or leave them but the little elf that sat with the bunny looking across a frozen river at houses with welcome lamps and hearth fires burning has done a happy job on this lady. How so? Snatches from a song- over the river and through the woods, but in my use, through the woods and over the river, and a poem remembered most happily about lovely, dark,deep woods filled with snow(thanks RF) all sprang forth to brighten my day.

Conversation With an Enemy

“Dialog only prompt for 12/7/2016:

"I am my own worst enemy."

This is not the first line or the last line, just has to be used somewhere in your response. Remember dialog only not even ," said xxxx.

               A  Conversation With an Enemy

                      By Deborah J Lindsey

"Who’s there? 

I know you’re there and I know who you are. Your laughter gave you away. "

"You are your own worst enemy.”

“Don’t you mean thatYOU are my worst enemy? “

“No need to whisper in that obscene voice. 

Oh yes, I remember and I agree that was a horrible thing I did and maybe you’re right in saying that I am my own worst enemy. 

Yes, I am totally guilty.

I am guilty of many things but my Lord is gracious. I’ve talked to Him and I am sure he has forgiven me. In fact, he threw all that bad stuff into the ‘Sea of Forgetfulness’ and doesn’t even remember it at all. 
You are the one that remembers it all.

You’re right. I did that too but you are the accuser of the brethren. Well, sistern in my case.

No, I didn’t google “sistern”. 

I’m a writer! I’ll write what I want!

Yes, even if it is a made-up word.

Get thee behind me satan.

You know you have to leave, in fact you have to flee.”

“Yes, I know, but I’ll be back.”

djl

C Copyright 2016 by Deborah J Lindsey

not the end of all things

today I wanted to die but I think I will live instead.

it is not the end of all thinga.  it just seems that way but I will be ok.

Roosters crow at Night

Roosters Crow at Night
By Deborah J Lindsey

(The man on the phone sounded like he had a sock shoved up his nose.) -First line writing prompt-

The man on the phone sounded like he had a sock shoved up his nose.

I knew it waswas Berry.

I sighed and clicked my phone shut knowing that it would only ring again.

I counted 1 2 3 4 5 6.

Chicken Dance music, once, twice.

“Hello, Berry is that you?
Speak up! Your sock connection is very bad.”

The sock continued his muffled tirade.

Berry was my neighbor in back. If I looked out the bathroom window I am sure I would find him there peering through the parted curtains. I did try to get along with him but he was just one of those impossible people that could never be satisfied.

I do believe he counted every leaf that dared fall from my trees unto his yard. I watched him spear them with a long stick that had a nail driven into the end of it. When the nail was full, he made neat little piles and nailed them to my fence. I didn’t mind the nails. In fact, I found them quite convenient places to hang my wind chimes. I had four out there now. They were quite musical on a breezy day.

He was odd about trash too. Once, some flyers I had thrown away advertising information on my lost dog who had mysteriously vanished somehow fell on the ground beside his trash can. I found those nailed on the fence too. Photos of my dear Yapsey were circled several times with a red marker and the nail pierced the paper forehead.

My phone boomed once again. I knew it was Barry because I had assigned him his own ring tone - Beethoven’s Fifth.

“Hello, Berry I know it’s you. You don’t sound one bit like John Wayne.

Berry, I can see you peering through the curtain. NO! I didn’t give your name to the FBI. And NOI I didn’t sign you up for a year’s subscription to “Piggy Wiggy Digest”.

I closed my phone and started the count again.

“Hello, Berry, I can’t hear you. The sock isn’t helping your connection.
What? Chickens? Yes, I have a few hens that’s all. The front yard? Oh, don’t worry about the grass. I have some goats coming next week. Totally organic you know. It’s the latest thing. You’re welcome to some of the goat’s leavings for your roses.

Berry? Hello…?”

I snapped my phone shut. I shook my head and laughed to myself. Some people just couldn’t get along with others. How was I to know roosters crowed when they took a notion too- even at night. I’m sure the girl scout cookies I signed him up for would more than compensate.

C copyright October, 2106 by Deborah J Lindsey

Cleaning Grout

 Cleaning Grout

“What are you doing in the bathroom so long?”

“I’m cleaning grout.”

“What?
“Cleaning trout?
In the bathroom?

“No!” I said.
“I’m cleaning grout.”

“What are you cleaning out?”

“No, no,I SAID… I AM CLEANING GROUT!”

“Steaming kraut?”

I don’t care for kraut.

I thought you were making fish?”

© October, 2016 By Deborah J Lindsey

Writing Prompt: tittle

Cleaning Grout

Cleaning Grout

“What are you doing in the bathroom so long?”

“I’m cleaning grout.”

“What?
“Cleaning trout?
In the bathroom?

“No!” I said.
“I’m cleaning grout.”

“What are you cleaning out?”

“No, no,I SAID… I AM CLEANING GROUT!”

“Steaming kraut?”

I don’t care for kraut.

I thought you were making fish?”



Tittle Prompt

First Line writing Prompt: I stood there waiting at the space port

Sibyl

 I stood there waiting at the space port with everyone else. Even though this flight was unusual, it had sparked little interest. I was just there, like the others, casually observing the event as I took my meal break. 

We were a small silent group each thinking our own thoughts. My thoughts, I am sure were much like the rest- asking the same questions that no one dared give voice. Rumors were that life was again possible on earth but earth to me was just an entry in the archives. I wondered about the place though and from the images, it seemed to filled with much beauty and color. 

The broad doors behind us opened and a keeper carrying a tiny animal creature walked down the ramp. Our eyes met in that sparse moment as they passed - mine and Sibyls’. 

I don’t know why I stepped out of my place and followed. Perhaps, it was because we shared the same name or maybe it was the terrified pleading look I saw in her sad eyes. Who knows what makes a person do things. 

I knew little of animals except the basic knowledge provided by the archives. I’d never even seen one before today. It was said, however that they were vicious and hateful but I was intrigued none the less. 

There were two seats aboard the Blaster, one for the human and one for the animal. The human seat, of course, was optional but I could go if I wanted to. I was of eighteen years and female. Those were the only requirements for a human passenger. The keeper pointed to a seat and I sat down and secured my strap. Then he strapped the quivering Sibyl next to me. He went out and retuned in a moment with two baskets. Provisions for the trip I guessed. I saw fruit on top, bananas I believe they were called. I hoped there was some human food in there too as I had eaten very little of my meal/

The keeper closed the door, pushed the button on the launch pad and we were off. I don’t know why these machines were called “Blasters” because they made no sound. The only sounds I heard were the whisperings of our breath and the beating of our hearts.

Sybil unstrapped herself and moved towards me. She put her arms around my neck and laid her head upon my shoulder. She remained in that position a long while. At last her quivering stopped and I felt her begin to relax.

She lifted her head and peered into my face. Her eyes were two bright stars. She began examining my hair. She selected a single strand and stretched it out full length. She continued in the same manner until all my hair was loosed from its binding and floated free. 

I spoke to her in quiet soothing tones repeating her name over and over. She responded with a strange low humming. She stroked my cheek with her tiny hands and I was sure I had made a new friend. 

I reached back and took a banana from the basket and offered it to her. 
She stared at it a moment and then bit off the end of my thumb.

Blood erupted from my wound like a fountain spray. I watched fascinated as the drops coagulated and formed into many angry red splotches. 

I touched the button marked “emergency” and my injury was instantly encased in clear plastic. There was no pain and the blood disappeared rapidly and was soon gone. I had no clue how or where it went.

Sybil sat in her seat calmly watching me. When she was sure she had my full attention, she pointed to a smooth control panel where colored lights flashed on and off in rhythmic pattern. 

Just below that, I noticed a small sign. There scrawled in ancient cursive handwriting I read, “Do not feed the animal”.    

         C copy write By Deborah J Lindsey September, 2016 

Writing Prompt: Create a new world

-Create a New World- Writing Prompt

I suppose a proper beginning would be to “look up” the word, “world.”

The “Look up” method as opposed to research is usually best. “Look up” satisfies the quick curiosity most of the time and will never make you late for a train.

Back in the old days, before modern travel and convenience, Webster’s Dictionary was the way to go. Webster’s, back then was a real hard copy book that you could hold in your hand. Well, maybe not in your hand as a Webster’s Dictionary was quick thick and heavy.

Using Webster’s was fairly safe. All you had to do was to jump in, get your information jump out. The train usually never left the station and there were no side tracks or scheduling problems and most assuredly, no derailments or lost trains.

Still, a person had to be on alert. There was danger.

Once, I decided to read each and every listing in Webster’s. Yes, A-Z - aristocrat to zephyr. Fool hardy, I agree but a noble undertaking to say the least.

Of course, I never accomplished my goal and I believe that this one failed trip is the cause of much of my emotional distress today. My thought process was somehow altered. Often I find myself seriously disliking trains and at times, even hating them.

Now days, it seems to takes me hours to find the train I started on but more often than not, I never find it. In fact, I lose my train completely.

“One box car shy of a full load” or “senior moment” as I’ve heard it sometimes referred to .

Anyway, the main problem is with all of the “sees”.

For example, take the word kangaroo.

Kangaroo: kan guh roo / noun/ marsupial native to Australia. From the family Macropodidae (macripods) meaning “large foot”

(see: Australia, see: Joey)

“Sees “are far too complex for most adults much less a simple child. A trip to “see” Australia could and most certainly would end in disaster. Managing the tickets, what to eat, what to wear, where to go to the bathroom, and grumpy conductors, just to mention a few obstacles would overwhelm even the strongest constitution and Imagine if you will, the number of folks named “Joey”- thousands, perhaps millions! Consider as well all the “Josephs” and “Joes”. Impossible!

“The World Book Encyclopedia”, In the old days, was also a real hazard to health and wellbeing. In fact, I would dare say more dangerous than Webster’s but children were never warned.

 In fact, if a family could afford a set, they were the envy of the neighborhood and children having the advantage of this educational tool were considered to be naturally brighter, smarter and more adept than most ordinary children and much more desired by parents.

World Books came to you personally in the form of a retired lady school teacher.

“Research! Your child will need these books!” The teacher baited. She dangled Volume “F” in front of us.

“Just look at this frog”

We stared google-eyed.

“Your child can dissect him right here-page by page. “

She moved the magic pages back and forth. “dissecting” the frog and then putting his parts back together. (Do kids still dissect frogs?)

There was a human body too in Volume “H“ Where You could remove all the organs and put them back together page by page just like the frog but the frog is what really sold the lot.

We had a set in our home and those books along with my early experiences with Webster’s caused me to become an addict.

It innocently began with the simple “look up”and then before I knew it, I had moved on to the hard stuff- research..

“Sees” can be managed if one is watchful but the “sees” are greater and more intense in the volumes. There are so many possibilities.

This is what happens: “sees” develop into “book worms” and these “worms” travel hither and thither from one volume to another growing bigger and stronger all the while.

 They become so bloated with data, maps, illustrations, charts, tables of contents and indexes that you become totally lost and fall into a stupor. You may wake up several days later buried beneath piles of volumes and When you finally dig yourself out, you may discover, as I can attest to that fact first hand, that you have somehow acquired a baby kangaroo, married a bloke named Jack and are scheduled to speak at a “Big-foot” convention in Toledo. Be careful!

World
noun \ war-ald
1. the earth: and all the people and things on it
2. And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. Revelation 21:1

Deborah J Lindsey September, 2016

Writing Prompt 8.18. 2016 First line prompt

Writing Prompt 8.8.2016

Lunch was almost ready.  Would he actually come?  Beth sighed and checked the table for the fifteenth time.  The food smelled delicious and the table looked beautiful.  Lunch was simple- home-made chili with corn bread and a crisp green salad with tomatoes and cucumbers. Peach cobbler was the dessert. The table cloth was red and white checked and looked inviting and cheerful.  Beth sat down to wait.

She waited a long time.   He never came. She should have invited me.  I would have come and I would have brought some flowers for her table. I love chili and cornbread and peach cobbler is a favorite of mine.  I heard the invitation when it was offered and I heard him accept.  I wish she would have asked me.  She deserved better-much better.  

Writing Prompt 8.18. 2016 First line prompt

Writing Prompt 8.8.2016

Lunch was almost ready.  Would he actually come?  Beth sighed and checked the table for the fifteenth time.  The food smelled delicious and the table looked beautiful.  Lunch was simple- home-made chili with corn bread and a crisp green salad with tomatoes and cucumbers. Peach cobbler was the dessert. The table cloth was red and white checked and looked inviting and cheerful.  Beth sat down to wait.

She waited a long time.   He never came. She should have invited me.  I would have come and I would have brought some flowers for her table. I love chili and cornbread and peach cobbler is a favorite of mine.  I heard the invitation when it was offered and I heard him accept.  I wish she would have asked me.  She deserved better-much better.  

Writing Prompt (use these words) Unicorns Never Listen

Writing Prompt... Use these words in a story. Here's Mine
Rainbow
Koala
Grass
Pizza
Lick
Polka Dots
Flood

Unicorns Never Listen

“Quick! Quick!” Frantic ed Bob Koala.
“Run for your life! A flood is coming!”

The unicorn stopped munching grass raised his head and stared a long moment at Bob. Then just because he could, he gave his beautiful mane a toss and sparkled rainbow sparkles all over him. Then just for fun, he whip-whashed his long tail and glittered Bob in a glittery shower of glitters.

Bob shook himself and frowned. He was a serious black and white little bear and did not care one spec for sparkles or glitters. Besides that, this unicorn was not listening.

“Frantic ed ?” The unicorn mused flicking a bit of his pizza lunch high into the air. Then he opened his mouth wide and gobbled it down in one big gobble most impolitely.

Bob was not at all surprised to see a unicorn eating pizza because everyone knows that unicorns are always hungry and will eat almost anything. In fact, he heard it told that upon a long once ago a unicorn was so hungry that he lick ed the dots clean off of a polka and then he ate the dish.

“Franticed?” The unicorn ventured letting the word drip slowly from his tongue. Another thing about unicorns was they often had to eat their words. They never swallowed them but always spit them out.

“Frantic ed” splitted and splatted and landed in a heap at Bob’s feet.

“I say, the unicorn continued.”

“I say that word
is really rather absurd.
In fact, I surmise
it can never be “cized”,
conjugated or “corelized,”
at all at all.
Do you have a “blighter”
Installed as your writer?”

Bob sighed and ran as far and as fast as he could. He ran far away from the unicorn. He climbed to the tippy-top of a Eucalyptus Tree. Oh how he wished he had listened more carefully to his Mother’s teachings.

1. Unicorns never ever listen (especially the sparkly kind)
2. Unicorns rhyme very badly

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Writing Prompt: That is why I think my coworker is a troll.

Writing Prompt: That is why I think my coworker is actually a troll.

Even though I am way down the ladder of success, I am naturally curious and extremely observant.  I know things.  Working in the mail room as I do has given me the unique opportunity to be a “snoop.”  Lately. my focus has been on this one particular guy.  His office is just one of many that share the 15^th floor or “Suit City” as I often refer to it.

Every suite holds a receptionist who sorts out the folks and keeps the general order.   Easy peasy for me.  The mail to them usually just goes in the “in” basket on the desk.  Sometimes, however the gal insists I put the mail directly in her hand.  Mostly, those kinds work for the “higher-ups-chief executors, vices. directors and such.

Beyond, the lady gate keeper and crowd control queen are the offices of the VIPs.  The door announcing each particular individual discretely boasts the name in prominent gold and black lettering.  The strange part is that actual first names are omitted.  It’s always just initials. I guessed the reasoning behind that had something to do with work place equality or diversional rules and policies or it could be just a suit who didn’t care for his first name all that much and rather than call undue attention required everyone to use initials.

So, I was accustomed to seeing doors with names like R. Johnson. B. Smith. or the occasional odd one or two like I.D. Maker and H.R. Resource.

The tip off for me that the guy in Suite 418B was different- I mean very different was his name. Of course, there were other things too I noticed as I have stated before I am quite observant.  The pictures hanging on the walls of his office were all bridges. In fact, I’d venture to say more than half of them depicted as a main subject the specific spaces under bridges.  And there were lots of statues-  gnomes, fairies, elves, gargoyles and the like scattered tastefully about the room.  There was even a gold framed photo of that ogre chick from that fairy tale movie on his desk. What washer name?  Freeona?

All of the above mentioned were pretty positive clues but when I saw him reading “Three Billy Goats Gruff” I was sure.  Well, that and the name on his door.  (A. Troll )was his name. That is why i think my coworker is actually a troll.

Writing Prompt: Sam refused to relieve me from my duty again.

Writing Prompt:   Sam refused to relieve me  from my duty again.


Sam  just stared as he stood
looking and looking.
Facinated by  ham
 that I  was  just cooking.

The ham, of course,
 sat quite green on a plate.
Sam shook his head,
No, I already ate.

Relieve me from duty!
Please Sam, I am!
I've frenched and I've fried.
I've spicked and I've spammed.

It's your turn to serve
these diners to dine.
I've worried and scurried,
Just look at that line!

The Lorax was offended
He peeked down through the leaves.
Quiet!  Yall shush!
 I can't hear the trees.

Horton trumped his trumpter.
Yes, me too.
I can't hear a what,
 a when or a who.

Relieve me from duty!
Now! Sam I am.
I am dizzy and whizzy
from  green eggs and ham.

Sam bowed a low bow,
Then in  whispery wheeze,
To be sure, Sweet Madam.
You need only say PLEASE.

Writing Prompt: "Who is It?"

Writing Prompt:  "Who is It?"



 "Who is it?" I asked my teenage son. "Who is knocking at the door?"
" I don't know, I'll check."
I heard him shuffle to the door. Why does he always do that? Why doesn't he pick up those feet!" I heard the front door open and strained to listen to what was being said but heard nothing. I flung the covers off and sat on the side of the bed. Still trying to listen as my feet found my slippers.

"WHO IS IT?" I yelled down the hall.
Shuffling feet came closer.
"Well, it could be the milk man but we get our milk fromthe grocery." Shuffler said with a laugh.
"Or it could be Herman Munster."
That surprised me. I didn't think he knew who Herman Munster was but I was certain it wasn't him at the door.

Feet came closer still.

"Or it might have been Nicolas Cage or Clark Gable?"

I finally jump from my bed and fly down the hall.
I grabbed the shuffler, stared directly into his face.
"Who was it?" I yelled.

"Oh, who was it at the door you mean-just now?"
"YES! YES! Who?"
The sufffler had me andhe knew it. He let me dangle a moment.

"It was a stranger and I didn't talk to him because you said never to talk to strangers.

Writing Prompt first and last line

Writing prompt :  first line:  It was a dark and stormy night

                            ;ast line: and there was much rejoicing.

It was a dak and stormy night.  In fact, it was the darkest and stormiest night ever recorded at the National Weather Service.  The darkness was so dense it hung like listless black velvet drapes on old mansion windows. The darkness enveloped the space like a tomb. The air was so dank and dark you could cut it with a cheese knife or butter knife if you were so inclined. 

Althea picked up a jewel-toned butter knife from the tray that held corn bread cut preciecly into 2 1/2 inch squares.  She poured buttermilk from a silver urn into a sparkling goblet handed one to Reginald then pour one for herself.

The lights suddenly flickered then went out.  All was blackness.  Lightening crashed, the upstairs maid screamed as a gust of wind blew the storm outside inside.  When the lights flickered back on, the corn bread and buttermilk had disappeared and so had Althea.

Amy stopped reading and lay down the manuscript and looked  around the room expectantly.

"Well, how do you like my first attempt at writing a novel?"

Amy's guests looked one to the other but said nothing.

"I have more but I don't think I'll share it just now"  Amy said studying each face .

Suddenly, everyone began cheer and clap at the same time and there was much rejoicing.

Writing Prompt: ending with (And that was that)

Writing Prompt:  Ending with  (And that was that)

I took out my yellow pad and began to write. I wrote ever fury, every injustice, every red hot shard of anger. I wrote until angry turned to sadness and sadness turned to tears. Then as always, I tore the letter into a million pieces. And that was that.

Writing Propmt Dialog

Deborah Hare Combo prompt for 7/26/2016:
Dialog only with the last line of
"Okay, but why did you tell me all of this?"

"Okay, it's the monster bit again?"
"So, you agree to help me?"
"Okay", is not agreeing. I asked you a question and I ask you again. It's the monster thing again?"
"Yes, but he's real this time. I know it!"
"Okay, so this monster, like before, looks like a huge snake with fangs that drip blood and you cover your head and scream and scream? Sounds like a pigment to me."
"You mean figment?"
"No, pigment! I was thinking about flying pigs and how impossible this all is."
"What do you want me to do? You need to call your shrink?"
"I can't, he's not taking my calls anymore. You're the only person who can help me. Please say, you will."
"No, I won't do it. You know I'm not into monster hunting anymore."
"Well, just stay and watch a vid with me."
"No BOO! You always want to watch the same one. You have to stop watching yourself on tv!"
"I got chocolate pecan pie and that vanilla ice cream you like. Please say okay."
"Okay, but why did you tell me all of this?"



not exactly the wY i WANTED BUT TIME IS PRESSING.

Writing Prompt : Potpourri

Writing Prompt potpourri

clothesline  
chocolate bar
elf
hypothermia
scamper
insinuate
feces
frog

I poured my one and only allowed cup of coffe into my favorite M&M mug added a dribble of skim milk and wondered if I could find a larger cup to use that might  still  be considered a"one cup" in measure.  I opened the silverware drawer to get a teaspoon and there it was-a clothesline neatly knotted into a hangman's noose.

 This nifty noose choking a knife, fork and spoon was supposed to remind me that food was killing me.

"You put the "die" in diabetic. the Doc insinuate(d).  Use this noose as a tool."

Feces! pure feces!

Yes, he suggested  think of sweets as ... you may well guess- another tool.

I smiled to myself remembering the chocolate bar tool buried underneath the frozen veggies in the freezer.

This is the same Doc that told me to  "hop" up on the table. I'm surprised he didn't sugest I "scamper" down the hall.

I need a new Doc.

The frog clock above the range croaked out six croaks.  Why did I have a frog clock in my kitchen?  I wish I could say it was a gift but no, it was me-all me.
Anyway, six croaks meant the morning paper had arrived.

The Headlines today were priceless.

NORTH POLE ELF DIES FROM HYPOTHERMIA

Have I told You About My 3-Pound Tomato?

Writing Picture Prompt

one pic was a chocolate cale with cherries on top. The other was a tomato.


I looked again at the photo on my fridge and smiled. I smiled every single time I looked at it. The photo was an old woman wearing at blue-checked dress and gardening hat. She was grinning up at the camera. The hand-written caption below boasted, ":Have I told you about my 3 pound tomato?" Yes, the answer was. Yes, many, many times. This sweet lady was afflicted with Altzheimers. The tomato story was one of her "loops". She always carried tomato photos in a small album and I admired them too -often. I miss her.

Writing Prompt: They were at a crossroads and either option would be detrimental

Writing Prompt:They were at a crossroads and either option would be detrimental

They were at a crossroads and either option would be detrimental. There was the yellow woods road that diverged into shady shadows or the Snowy Woods road that the old horse stopped by one snowy evening but which one? Which one was best? And what is "best" anyway? Who can really say? Best for one might be simply mediocre for another? Suddenly, they looked at each other and smiled. "The snowy woods?" He asked. "Yes, she nodded. The horse knows the way."

Writing Prompt: "Uh huh. I'm coloring."

 "Uh huh. I'm coloring."  Writing Prompt


 It was only me and my husband having dinner at the restaurant. No children. No Grand Children, Just us two oldsters. I saw the coloring sheets and crayons as we walked past the hostess station. I didn't see anything posted about age restrictions so I helped myself. We ordered our food then asked the Blessing as we always do.

 Then my husband took out his phone as he always does and looked at t his and that but never at me. Then I took out my coloring sheet which was apparently an ad for good nutrition. Either that or the history of farming because farm animals were there smiling up at me from behind fences and there was rolling hills and trees in the background. Well, the colors were limited to red, green and blue, but I did my best. Blue cows can be quite nice if you color in the lines. Finally, my husband took notice of me and he seemed to be surprised. "What are you doing? He whispered. You're coloring?" "Uh huh. I'm coloring." I finished the coloring page just as the server brought our food. She thought it was quite nice but remarked that she had never seen a blue cow. But what about Babe, the Blue Ox? I asked. She shook her head and seemed confused and puzzled. These young ones! Ha! Bet she never heard of Paul Bunyan either. My husband was still watching me while his phone lay quiet on the table.

What Fun!

On writing and the visible world

I am looking through all my old writings.  One story came to mind, "Camptown Ladies".  I didn't find  that one.  Very difficult to see today.  I view videos  of folks making quilts.  How I would love to do that.  How I would love to write again and rewrite.  How I would like my vision to clear but you know.  I have a promise and I believe it.  (I am the Lord who heals ALL your diseases)  It is a done deal and could happen any moment.  Praise Him!


I still love writing and was reminded of that recently.  A challenge to simply rewrite a wordy sentence resulted  in a mini story.  I truly enjoyed myself. 

DARE::::
Reword this sentence.
*

A man dressed in a black cloak, face covered with a blue bandana and navy blue hat covering his ears, ran for his car
*

my rewrite

.Instantly, he knew letting his wife talk him into wearing that foolish golf hat was a huge mistake.  It was such an ugly shade of navy and the blue of the bandana didn't match the blue of the hat.  She did it on purpose, he thought.  She knew he counted on her to help him with color.  

The only reason he knew the colors were ghastly was the reaction of Porter, the hound.  Porter was his little secret.  You see, if the hair on Porter's back stood up and he ran away howling his misery, then his color choice was bad-very bad.  And that is what happened just now.

Nothing to be done.  He was late.  He pulled the hideous hat down over low his ears covering them completely.  Then he pulled the bandana up high competely covering his face except for a single slit for his eyes.

He fumbled a moment in his is pocket for his car keys
 and finding them intact, he snatched the long black cloak from the hall stand. He  covered his  body carefully and completley.  He threw open the door and plunged out into the poounding rain.  Just as he reached the car, a wild gust of wind  caught the bottom of his cloak flipping it up over his knees.  He stared in horror.  No feet! No Shoes!  Life was indeed difficult for the forgetful invisible man.

Like · Reply · 1 · July 6 at 10:34pm

 sorry the writer jumped out and took over. He was wearing a mask by the way.

think it not strange when fiery trials come upon you!

Happy Birthday Michael

Happy Birthday Michael!
 June 30, 1972

The Pop eye Principal

from my online journal

July 8, 2003

So, I have departed from "profound" writings and written instead of simple things.  Actually, whatever spilled from my brain unto the keyboard and POOF onto the screen.  WYSIWYG! (what you see is what you get) Much like the "The PopEye Principal" (I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam and if it don't melt your butter, well.....tuff taters baby!)    After the age of 50, it's perfectly acceptable to adopt and embrace "The PopEye Principal". I have arrived. 

Note:  works well even after 60.  

Cancer Free

Had my yearly follow-up Colonoscopy today!

PERFECT !!!!

Thank You, Lord!

Lydia's Wedding

Happy Wedding Lydia and John!

Free!

A year ago July, I was diagnosed with colon cancer.  Today, the reports show, that all is well.

Isn't God wonderful?

Goodbye Friend Bee

Lost another friend... Debbie Mattingly McKenny

Aquainted with her from those long ago yahoo chat days.  And a Writer's chat room called "The Instant Cafe".  In those days, most chat room were hosted.  The Hosts in this room were called, "Novels"  Debbie was NovlBee.  Debbie's husband is "Sam.  I am happy to say, I introduced them about 17 years ago.  They both lived in the same town-just opposite sides.  They met, fell in love and lived happily for a long time.   Goodbye, Sweet Bee.

Some bery good friends came out of that chat room.

Easter

As Easter approaches, I wonder if this will be the last Easter in history.  Truly we are living in the last days- the closing hours of time.  Keep prayed up and ready to go. time is fleeting.

How Great is Our God?

How great is our God?

How great is His word?

He's the greatest one

That ever was heard

He rolled back the waters

Of the mighty Red Sea

And He said, "I'll lead  you,

Put your trust in Me"

There is only ONE thing that God cannot do and that One thing is

FAIL. 

Trust Him

Love Him

Believe Him