That's Not Why I'm Here: SOCS

So this stream of consciousness is coming from sunny FLA. Five minutes of writing that is not edited. Just written and posted. As always, I gratefully link up at Jana's place where other like-minded writers do too.

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Florida is not one of my favorites places because I don’t have much in common with the people who live in this part…they're old. Now some of you out there may be thinking, well she’s "old" too. And I will say to you, “NO. I’m not. Age is just a number.” I hope if you ever meet me you think, “Hey, she has a young spirit.”

But that’s not what this is about. This is about why I’m vacationing in a place I wouldn't choose myself. And I'm not Veruca Salt either.

I’m here because three other women are and I was graciously invited. I’m here because I’ve known these women as acquaintances for the last 13 years. I’m here because 3 years, 2 months, 13 days ago, we became bonded unexpectedly and forever because of tragedy.

In the face of a devastating event such as the loss of a 19 year old child who was the same age as one of yours, who was away on his own as a freshman in college like yours, who’s bedroom window was 15 feet away from yours, who’s death was so incomprehensible that you will never, ever be able to explain or make sense of it, there has to be people to pick up the pieces of shattered hearts.

And there are certain times of the year that bring out the “bad”. This is one of those times.

And as two of us listened to a sermon today in which she wanted no part, we understood that at times she feels abandoned by her faith.

And it’s not that we don’t speak of him. That the subject is taboo. It is anything but that. This morning, we had a nice long talk. We learned things about him we didn’t know, she’s never shared. We thought we knew just about everything.

My heart broke again. For her.

I cried but I often do.

And she gave me one of her trademark hugs.

I’m lucky.

Trifecta: Black, White, Gray

Trifecta wants us to give them a 33-word example of personification.  Here it is defined in case we've forgotten our English 101, which is entirely possible.  It's the practice of attaching human traits and characteristics with inanimate objects, phenomena and animals (http://literary-devices.com).

Worn like a snug, little, black dress.

Dressed down in

Jeans, white tee, flip-flops.

Their colors...

Black

White

Gray

Stylishly told

Always.

Watching her true-mirrored reflection

Wearing them believably.

Applaud

Veil

Refrain

Choose.

Dear Man of My Dreams

So these are the prompts this week at Mama’s Losing It. The Prompts:

1.) What are you reading?
 The Sense of An Ending by Julian Barnes. It just came in the mail today and it’s like having something shiny and new to play with.

2.) Dear Men, (an open letter…offer a word of advice, an issue you’d like to address, or a solution to a problem for the opposite sex).


3.) Show us your kitchen!
 I love my kitchen but, right now, it is not picture worthy. Too much crap lying around and I don’t feel like cleaning up at the moment.

4.) Tell us about a time you were grounded…what did you do? I got grounded pretty often for a while. And when I got grounded, I used to do things like pierce another ear hole or something similar which became the cause for a subsequent grounding.

5.) What made you laugh this week? I didn’t have a funny week. At. All.

Now come on. With this opportunity, what would you choose? I mean really. It’s like an open invitation to get a little somethin’, somethin’ off our chests.

Well, I’m in. You don’t have to ask twice. It’s a general letter of course and not directly pertaining to anyone I know in my actual and very real life.

Dear Man of My Dreams (hereafter known as MMD),

I’ve been a life partner with a member of the opposite sex for almost half my total years on this planet. That’s a darn long time. And I truly believe we are both highly trained professionals when it comes to this marriage thingy. And we both make mistakes. And both aren’t perfect. And we both try hard to be kind. You’d agree, wouldn’t you? Okay, no need to answer.

 So I’ll say something to you, MMD, like this:

“I need to talk to you about something. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just need you to hear me. Understand or at least try to understand. I’m not asking you to agree with me but if you did, that would be awesome. You don’t need to fix this or provide excuses or reasons for the target of my venting.

Can I have a full on rant? I desperately need one to get this completely out of my system so I can move on. Would you be willing to do that?”

And then you, MMD, say something like this:

“Honey, of course. I'm all ears. Rant away.”

I promise it will be short-ish and not directed at you. I’m sure it will include maybe an explicative or five ;-).

And then it would be great if you, MMD, then said,

“Feel better, honey? Here, let me give you a hug.”

And that would be it! Easy schmeasy!!!

That wasn't so bad, was it?

Signed,

Your Ever Loving Wife

Trifecta: The Old Folks Home

Nothing ever changes at Miller’s Merry Manor. Certainly, nothing exciting ever happens.

The folks file in for supper at the same time every evening, 5:00, and sit at the very same table each and every time. Separate tables for guys and girls just like high school.

“He stares at me. At every meal. It’s not right.” Complains Yolanda.

“Maybe he wants your hot body.” Josephine rolls her eyes.

“What’d she say?” Yolanda leans over to Midge.

“She said, ‘He’s liked you ever since sophomore year when you did that musical together. Remember your hearing aids for dinner, dear.”

“Well, it’s rude. Doesn’t he realize I’m still grieving my Henry?”

“Henry died ten years ago. I think he’d approve of you being cordial to Robert. They were friends after all.”

“Robert was sweet on me, wasn’t he, all those years ago? But I had Henry. I don’t think I’ve lost my figure much either, do you?” Yola sighed.

“He’s not bad for 83. I’d entertain him,” Midge giggled.

“Then get busy. Maybe he’ll stop mooning over me. It’s becoming bothersome.”

After dinner, they progress to the television room for Wheel of Fortune, then reruns of The Golden Girls or whatever else plays on Channel Nine. The men follow staking out the card table for a few hands of gin rummy or a ballgame.

At precisely 8:00, they march down the drab gray halls of the town’s only state-run nursing home. Canes and walkers at the ready.

“Why does Robert always run out of here?” Josephine asks.

“He must have one of those enlarged prostates. Pees all the time.”

Yola opens her door.

“Damn woman! I know you can move a lot faster than that!” Robert shouts.

“I’m sorry darling. It’s important to me.”

Frisky, he pulls her onto the bed.

“It’s a bitch keeping up this sham. They gotta know a man wants what a man wants.  But you’re the best actress I know, sweetheart.”

Friday night. Not routine at all…for some seniors.

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33-333 words using the 3rd definition of:

BITCH (noun)

1: the female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals

2 a : a lewd or immoral woman

   b : a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman —sometimes used as a generalized term of abuse

3: something that is extremely difficult, objectionable, or unpleasant

Abraham Lincoln Had It Right: Sunday Stream of Consciousness

So this is what Jana at Jana's Thinking Place had to say this morning:

“Emerson said, quite famously, “Life is a journey, not a destination.” I ran across this quote this week looking for another one, and remembered how much I love the sentiment.”

With this quote to inspire us, she provided the word “Journey” as our optional prompt for Sunday Stream of Consciousness. The rules are to write, about whatever we want, for five minutes then leave it be. Simple, right?

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"Live a good life, and in the end, it's not the years in a life, it's the life in the years. Abraham Lincoln"

Speaking of simple, I try to be in my everyday life. 

I strive for simple. I try not to over think things. Second guess. Rehash. Judge. I hate when I do.

I live in the realm of do-overs. Correcting mistakes. Sorry s. And imperfections within myself.

But mostly, I try to focus my everyday attentions on the things happening in my life right then and there. Not so much on things out of my control or too far from reach. My journey is one of aspiring to be in the moment. Being present in my one and only shot at this thing. Life.

It doesn't always happen this way though. My life is sometimes messy and complicated. That's life.

But I'd like my journey to be simple. Or as simple as potentially possible.

This wasn’t always my goal. My path. My journey.

I spent a lot of years “wanting” things, people, what I didn’t have, what I thought I should have.

To say the years have been kind to me and taught me to relish what I DO have is an understatement. I just have to listen carefully to hear it sometimes.

Life happens.

Things happen.

Then things change.

Sometimes your world turns upside down.

Quite a few years back, I found this sign. It hangs above my side door. And my side door is the only door anyone in this family, or friends for that matter, use to leave our home or enter our lives. I must pass through this door 10 times a day, 70 times a week, 300 times a month…well you get the point. But I only probably read this sign, acknowledge it’s meaning, once a week if that. It's just there. Hanging around for years.

For my journey to be a success, I need to “see” it every day and remember what is truly important in my one and only life. 

It’s always about the people.

The life in the years.

Trifextra: The Chosen One

This weekend’s Trifextra challenge is to choose one of the pictures here and provide a 33-word response to it. This weekend is also community judged so enter, read the awesome entries, and vote responsibly ;-)

ZeroOne/foter.com/CC BY-SA

Her beauty lulls you into believing she’s sweet,

Until she startlingly shits on you.

Carelessly chosen.

There’s nothing you can do about it either.

She doesn’t care what you think

Because she’s gone.

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Bloggers Note: I have had the unique opportunity to be shat on, by a bird, five times in my life…walking through a completely full library parking lot at college right before a final, on a beach in Hilton Head, SC, at crowded North Avenue Beach in Chicago, browsing an Amish auction in Indiana, and while on a spring walk last year with a friend.

I’ve heard it’s good luck. 

Head to Head With The Elusive...

Over the last, I don’t know, several months, I haven’t been as lighthearted as I usually am. So I decided to join in the fun with Mel and Michele with their fun filled Ketchup With Us challenge. Thanks to Lumdog I've committed to flip flops, cutoffs and swimming in a pool of ketchup!

In 57 words or less, tell us about WHO (or WHAT) 

you go head to head with every day.

Here’s what I’ve been going head to head with since the middle of NaBloPoMo (Is that even how you write it? Can’t remember anymore.). My 57 words:

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Slipping in quite elusively, for moments only, then escaping just as quickly.

Leaving me with faint memories and desperate longing.

Calling out to her daily from this very spot.

demanding,

screaming,

cooing,

catcalling even
for her to stay more than a fleeting minute.

She’s like me; 

She doesn’t listen well;

And she's being a bitch.

My creativity.

My Weekend With Match.com

http://maybeckicomp.blogspot.com/2012/09/cyrano-de-bergerac.html

It was a “Big Chill” kind of weekend. You know the kind. Good friends, couples, hanging around a house together for 48 hours straight.

Not everyone was a couple though. Sara wasn’t anymore and I could tell she was lonely in the way a person is when it’s not how they want to be. Even surrounded by friends.

Saturday morning, I flopped down on the couch resting my chin on her shoulder. “You can continue sitting here idle, lamenting about your situation, or we could do something. Show me how it works.”

I’d never seen Match.com before. It was fascinating! I had a million questions.

“What’s a “wink”? Who’s viewed you? Do you message them? Do they know we're looking at them too? Deleting this guy?”

“Our signs aren’t compatible.”

“That matters?!?”

“Not just that. Interests, education, employment, importance of family, can I picture myself naked with them?”

“Aren't you getting ahead of yourself? How do I see more guys like him? Here we go!”

She sighed. “I’m bad at this. What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing. Show me some emails.”

Oh boy!

So for the next few hours I enthusiastically handpicked guys based on profiles best suiting Sara. And photos, being much more interested in the context of said photos (children, family, friends) rather than chiseled cheeks and gorgeous eyes. Ok, I’m a sucker for eyes so those added points.

Gaining her confidence by my stellar first selections she said, “Email them.”

“Me?”

“Yep!” She walked away.

Feeling like Cyrano de Bergerac, I did. The gist…

I’m married writing on Sara’s behalf. She’s hilarious, creative, intelligent, I’m a little jealous of her hot body (which I am). I promise you’ll laugh. This is so fun.

It was a cute email and I was sucked in.

“Who viewed “us”? Do “we” have mail yet? Any winks?”

Currently, “we” have a successful reply rate.

I tell my kids, “It’s not always what you say but how you say it.”

Now it’s up to her.

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I wrote this for Trifecta's 33-333 word prompt for the 3rd definition of

IDLE
3: a : shiftless, lazy

    b : having no evident lawful means of support

And Yeah Write Challenge Grid.

Please check out both places for some of the most outstanding and creative writing on the interwebs. Don’t forget the The Yeah Write Speakeasy too for your fiction and poetry fix.