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Just shooting the poop with Lori |
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He travels the world on the backs of others Insignificant in his stature and size His journey carries no mission Randomly roaming at the will of his host Sated enough to never question his trek Life is an open adventure without worry If the excitement of his dusty trail dulls Another bus awaits to grant passage With a furry friend to carry him home Ah the wonderful life of a flea |
| I remember you. Your name trips off my tongue in romantic fervor. I have missed you like a long lost child. Your presence fulfills the ache of loss caused by your absence. No one can bring joy and restoration of my soul as you do. Your time away has been dismal on my spirit. Darkness has planted its roots in my hearts garden, but your return has uprooted the painful and dreary seeds. There is hope renewed and rebirthed where the light shines. Welcome home, sunshine, my old friend. So very good to see you again! |
| I took a 4-hour trip yesterday. It was a trip about family. It was a trip about caring and letting someone know that your heart aches for their pain. Yesterday, as the temperatures dipped to an incredible new low and the coldness brewed outside, we warmed our hearts with the love of family. |
| Life is never a given. Tragedy happens in the blink of an eye. I know a woman who sadly has learned that fact today. Yesterday she and her husband were a family of five raising three young girls. Her husband was killed in a head-on crash. She now faces a life of raising her daughters alone and picking up the pieces of their shattered dreams. My heart aches at the pain she must be experiencing. There is always a shock with such events but wrapping your mind around the grief is almost impossible. The many levels of unfathomable changes and hurt this catastrophe inflicts in mind-boggling. This is my niece and Goddaughter. Prays and hugs will never seem enough. |
| Nursing is an interesting lifestyle. It will wear you down emotionally and physically.Your butt drags at the end of a shift. You are sometimes left feeling like a failure at accomplishing the basic tenants of being a nurse. This may be due to staffing, unexpected hospital events (trauma or behavioral issues of a patient). or an overload of tasks that need to be completed in any given shift.It may sound like I;m complaining but I am not. In reality. every crazy night makes me want to back and do a better job than the shift before. It reminds me to focus on the need to separate the illness from the patient and to listen to them better. Stomping out fires is important but so too is the need to spend time with the non-complainers, the patients who say, "oh I don't want to bother you. Just when you get time.could you?" These people often get pushed to the back of the line unintentionally. These are the people that cause my heart to break when I leave work feeling as if I haven't done all that i could for all of my patients. These are the people that thank me and apologize because my night looked horrendous. They are also the reason I continue to do the job that I do. So when my my job gets me down, I remember the many wonderful people that I have encountered, the many things that I do well, and the nights that I made a difference. i also love the fact that there has never been a night that went exactly the same as the night before, because I have never heard that being a nurse is boring. Thinking on your feet and expecting the unexpected keeps the job challenging but rewarding. |
| Has anyone ever woke up at 5 a.m on a frigidly cold day and wondered why? I had a purpose for rising early but the cold deterred my motivation. I wanted nothing but to climb back below the covers. It wasn't my fate, however, because my son was counting on me to get him to the bowling bus on time. You read it right, a bowling bus! There's a tournament this early many miles away for which his participation is required. It's a holiday for Pete's sake. I could have slept very peacefully and will after I drop him off at the cold, cold bus. Bowl well my son and I promise to snore well. We make a great team |
| It is oh, so, cold here in these parts today. And just for fun, my furnace is acting up. So I am blessed with cold inside and out. My fingers are numb, but the temporary solution is to keep typing. Gloves make it hard to type but I'll manage. This coldness has me looking forward to Spring. Keep warm and bundle up folks it's a cold world after all. |
| It is amazing to me the ability of grey, snowy, and cold weather to cause mood changes in the human psyche. There is the mellow, snuggling, gentle love of nesting at home. There are times when it feels as if a beautiful postcard is being created outside your window. Then there is the cabin fever syndrome that strikes unexpectedly. Then there are the doldrums of depression and melancholy. Whatever mood hammers at your heart, know that sunshine is lurking around the corner. My husband is in the hospital tonight and the weather here is too bad to drive to see him. He is not critical and I saw him earlier but it feels like I'm missing a part of me. It is taking all of my restraint not to get in the car and risk it but I will remain practical. My mood seems worse because of the cold outside. Looking forward to sunny days again soon. If anyone has a Florida vacation that they want to part with I'm all in. Until then I will look towards the good days and keep busy with my writing. Have a great day playing in the snow my fellow writing friends. |
| Dear Me of 2019, It seemed such a simple task to write a letter outlining my hopes and dreams for you for the New Year, but as I delved into my labor of love, I realized it called for so much more. You see, I have a debt to repay for the vigilance of my spirit that you have given. For as long as I can remember, you have provided an outlet for my thoughts of despair, enthusiasm, euphoria, joy, fear, comfort, family, faith, and love. The list of emotions catered to by you is evolving and eternal. From now on, I shall refer to you, my writing, as me, for you are the core of who I am. As I have grown, you have blossomed. My journals mark the passage of time and so much more. It is a legacy of me, from childhood to womanhood. It is a witness to my life with all the bumps along the way. Being able to capture the ideas that swirl in my mind through it all has been my savior. Dear me, thank you for allowing me to write the lines of my life and emotions of my soul. It has been a ride of cathartic, comforting, energizing, ardent, and at times sorrowful moments. This is a roller coaster ride that I would stand in line to ride all over again, as long as I can write the second saga. Dear Me, Know that never shall you be forsaken Youth’s pleasant dreams still dwell within Ego’s hushed passion baptized as next of kin Undaunted hopes housed in sacred haven Held tentative by life’s ceaseless turmoil Aspirations of the writer sprout divine Heart’s gentle yearning lay not benign My spirit yet thrives in fertile soil Thoughts inked with inspired words My soul to frolic in joyous revelry Penning tales until I lay breathlessly A fervent story told in simple verse Brings promise of scrawled inner musings Until the day is long, and fingers crippled Creativity shall pour on page, finely scribbled Pledge to book no tolerance for lame excuses Free range allowed for the artistic juices Follow the story to where the mind leads To entice and enthrall the one who reads With vivid imagery scripted tale induces Here in this rhyme stands my personal oath Write the words etched in the heart, this I vow Give voice to ramblings of soul, here and now Compose solo symphony of ideals imposed To write life’s lyrics as the song emerges Author the moments in romantic originality Claim ownership, writing with truth and veracity March to my own band as the impulse surges What does this all mean, you ask? There is, within the lines of this letter, gratitude, promise, goals, and acknowledgement of the gift writing grants to me. It is my sanity, my warm hug, and zone of Zen. The promise I give to myself is to continue to write about the happenings of my life. I will find humor in the mundane tasks of life and sculpt whimsical tales. Mystery and mayhem will jaunt through my pages as I lead the reader on a path of intrigue. I will build characters that are as real as the people that I meet, with the nuances of personality as visible as the mirror’s image. Through descriptive narrative, I will allow the reader a glimpse of the world they are about to enter. Always, will I keep them guessing, as the twists and turns of the tale unfolds. I love surprise endings! As for my goals, it is just this. I will continue to grow as a writer. When I look back on my early work, I realize how far I’ve come and yet still have far to go. I want to be open for change and learn from the previous story. I promise to write at least one narrative, story, memoir, poem, or journal entry a day. Squeezing out the time from a chaotic life is probably my worst enemy, so I will battle it in earnest. Next, I want to become more visible with my writing. I need to find the confidence to share more of my work. I have to learn to promote myself better and it is a skill that will need developing. Every time I enter a contest, I seem to second guess myself about submitting. It is not that I worry about winning but more that I am not worthy of entering. I see the incredible skills of some of the authors and allow myself to be intimidated. I will need to remind myself often that there is value in my message as well. The goal here is to work hard and aim high. I may never write a line as famous as “To be or not to be” but I must be willing to learn how to entice the reader with provocative ideals and magical scenarios. So a Pulitzer winner I may never be, but hopefully in the distant future when I leave this world behind, a smile will grace my lips, knowing I left a little bit of me. Sincerely, ME 2019 |
| The TELEPHONE Game Her eyes were fixated on the telephone that hung on the wall. It was an old fashioned pay phone made of black molded plastic and shiny silver metal. The rotary dial, with its bold alphabetized numbers, confused Laura, but she knew somehow it was her link to help. She held an obscure memory of the contraption but the invention was from a different era. She pushed her fingertips into her jean pocket unwittingly digging for a coin that would somehow deliver her to safety. She hoped to convey the dire emergency of her situation to some faceless voice residing in the black box. She picked up the receiver, holding it to her face. She screamed a lilting song of panic, "Hello, Hello?" The coin still rested in her gripped fist, unsure of the proper insertion site. No disembodied voice answered her call. She studied the dial, thinking it looked important but was clueless as to how it would help. Laura inhaled, trying to hold back the panic. She looked behind her to ensure the predators had not followed her. For the moment she deemed herself safe and focused on reading the instructions typed on the phone. The number "0" was the recurring theme of the printed directions. Laura placed her forefinger on the zero slot and pushed hard against the plastic. She repeated her frenzied call of "Hello" without a response. Visibly angry and quite terrified, Laura slammed the receiver back into its cradle. She looked around the room for another method of contacting help. It was an old country pharmacy, with the shelves lined by first aid items, products promising luxurious hair, and signs promoting safe sex. She decided to search the first aisle to treat the gash on her arm. The nasty wound was caused by the Alien's blaster when she escaped. She shivered, remembering how close they had come to neutralizing her. They had materialized from nowhere, and all of the sudden were everywhere. She had watched her friends disappear in a translucent glow of fire. Laura had no way of knowing how widespread the Alien presence was but she knew it was a threat to humanity. She was determined to warn the authorities. Laura and her friends had spent the day sledding down the snowy hills. It was all fun and games until the one-eyed, hairless, gargantuan travelers descended. A fight for life ensued. She wrapped her arm haphazardly and returned to the pay phone. She smiled at the memory of her grandmother forcing her to watch her nostalgic old movies. The scene of some old bald dude promoting the movie "Dial M for Murder" replayed in her mind. She picked up the receiver confident in her newfound abilities. Laura thrust the coin in the slot and dialed "0". "Help, help," she screamed. "You have reached the new Alien network. We will be there shortly to complete the neutralization of your being. Please, wait while I direct your call," the operator instructed. Laura hung up. Word count 500 |
| Remembering to blog every day has become a chore. It's not that I don't have enough ammo to blather on about but making my self sit down and ramble has proved more difficult than I expected. I refuse to give up to my weakness in this discipline. So expect to hear more from me as I navigate through the uncharted brainwaves of my imagination. I hope to explore new waters for 2019. You may find them odd but keep on reading because I promise we will land in friendly territory at times. I have many thoughts on which to ponder and ideas to make you laugh. Join me, please, for the relaunched saga of life. |
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