I never, ever, ever, ever post three times in one day. Just not my thing.
However, this is a special day. For all my friends blessed with children born with an extra chromosome, I share this beautiful video. Share the love.
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Not So High Fidelity
I love how Gusto TV – a channel reserved for cooking and lifestyle shows reserves Sunday nights for movie night. It used to be reserved for a “foodie” movie – anything that had major scenes with food (like Big Night or No Reservations) which I love, by the way. However, last night it was “High Fidelity”, starring John Cusack, Jack Black, Joan Cusack, etc. – no meal preps or grand dining scenes to be found here. At all. No matter, I set the PVR because for some strange reason, despite my love for both John and Joan Cusack, I had never seen this 2000 film. I watched it tonight.
And it got me to thinking. Why is it I have no particular memories per se (save for a very few) that I can go back to in great detail, bringing forth the feelings and emotions and music and weather and atmosphere of that particular moment and put them to paper, so to speak, as so many fabulous writers do? I follow quite a few bloggers who have this talent.
Is it because I lack depth? Do I flit and fly over everything, barely paying attention to the moments, not registering the happenings because I am above it all? Am I going to end up in therapy one day to find out that I have locked it all away until one day I burst?
Why is it my sister Lisa can remember when our sister Tracy started walking? Lisa would have been close to 4 years old (I assume Tracy started walking around age one) and I would have been seven-and-a-half. Was I too busy to pay attention? Did I not care about such things? This really bugs me. I know I was probably too busy hanging upside down on the monkey bars at the park with my friends to bother with little sisters and their milestones. Still.
Am I Charlie?
Rising
Absolutely had to share this one.
Merril’s poem has as much power as Maya’s
Beautifully done.
Monday Morning Musings:
“You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”
From Maya Angelou, “Still I Rise”
Full poem here.
I.
I rise before the sun,
a woman’s work is never done,
or so the saying goes–
but often yet denied a place
debased, erased
from education, business, science, and the arts
kept apart, or not allowed to start
never mind, we’ve given birth to the human race
created beauty and gone to space,
although harassed and worse,
some want progress gained to be reversed
(believing in mythical pasts and Eve’s curse)
but we move onward, oppose coercion
and being brutalized and minimized–
we advertise and mobilize–
trying not to polarize–
OK, perhaps a bit we moralize
but feeling like we’re pressurized
we rise
again, we rise
I march (again)
with a…
View original post 619 more words
Home Alone – Friday Fictioneers
Good Wednesday, my Readers! Sorry I missed last week but the inspiration just would not come to me. It happens. I rather skip out then produce dreck!
Thank you, always, to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for her fabulous leadership. This boat would not float without her. This week, she chose Björn Rudberg’s lovely photo. Why don’t you try your hand at writing a 100-word story using the photo prompt? It’s so much fun and quite addictive. Click on Rochelle’s name for the rules and regs or simply click on the Blue Frog to add your story and check our other interesting takes…
Oh! And silly me! For those of you who celebrate, Merry Christmas! And a belated, well, it is the last day, Happy Chanukah to those who celebrate that! And Happy Whatever-It-Is-You-DO celebrate!
© Björn Rudberg
Genre: May be a true story (hangs head in shame)
Word Count: Never more, never less than 100
Home Alone
She felt it was safe to leave him home alone while she picked up his brother at school, a mere two blocks away. He’d had such a hissy-fit; she decided to leave him behind, watching his movie. There was no danger. She’d be gone 15-20 minutes, max. She told him to stay put, locked up and left.
She picked up her eldest, turned around to walk back home and there was her little one, boots on his feet, unzipped coat flapping and hat with its pom-pom bobbing, running towards her, tears streaming down his face.
“You left me all alone!”
The Culprit
Before you leave
Every now and again, something comes into your – space – for lack of a better term – that touches you.
Thank you, David, for sharing this on your blog so I could share it on mine.
Josh Farrow is an Illinois-born kid who played punk rock music as a teenager, eventually headed to Nashville in his early 20s to chase after his future wife — pulling triple-duty as lead singer, songwriter and ringleader. He is inspired by the New Orleans funk of Allen Touissant and the Chicago blues of his hometown — chasing down success on his own terms, bringing with him a sound that’s smoky, soulful, and signature.
“Before You Leave,” was a finalist in the John Lennon Songwriting Competition.
This old house feels empty
There’s nothing I can hear
But the sad and silent echo
Of better years
I feel something breathe
In this dead and hollow room
It’s just this heavy old heart
That’s hanging on you
So before you leave
Darling, won’t you le me down easy?
Before you go
Won’t you help me ease my achin’ bones?
So before…
View original post 100 more words
On a Footprints Challenge
A fellow blogger (and one who is dear to me) has issued this challenge. Of course, I cannot but help myself and will definitely participate. How about you joining in? We have until July 10th to come up with 150 words… easy-peasy, right?
It’s challenge time!
Long-time visitors to my little corner of the world know that writing fiction isn’t my thing. With over 1,900 posts, I’ve written one fiction post. Actually two because the original post did turn into a short story challenge that involved me changing my original story.
Not that I’m changing my format in on these pages, but what the heck – let’s try it again!
1. Write a short story based on the image below in the genre of your choice.
2. The story must be 150 words or less.
3. Publish your story after I post mine (Monday, July 10th @ 12:15 am Eastern US) AND link back to the post with my story (not this post).
4. Display the image above your story
5. The story title must be Footprints in the Sand
6. Display the following image after the story.
The Importance of Female Friendships
In the past few years, I have been cultivating, nourishing, seeking women friendships. It has become obvious to me just how important it is to surround ourselves with kindred spirits with whom to share our happiness, sadness, success, failure, hopes and dreams.
Some of them I’ve known all my life, some since Grade 2, some from high school, a few through College or during university classes or even at the gym, and some have found their way into my life over the internet, through blogging. I never realised just how important each and everyone of them would become to me. What is wonderful is some are my age, some younger and some older. There is no age barrier in friendship. Each one has something to bring to the table, so to speak.
As fate would have it, as I was faffing away on Facebook, wasting time instead of being productive as I’m on standby for house issues, I landed on this Ted talk. How can we not love Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda?
