%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
A cozy corner where stories, laughter, and the invetibale chaos thrive! |
|
Where humour is often found in the mundane, where the trivial becomes of utmost importance, where, well...where I Live! Since becoming a Members of the groups below, I will use the daily prompt, as well as, well...sharing the sporadically mundane everyday, that I find carries just a Smidge of humor. ;)  
|
| BCoF ~ Have fun with these words-- summary, talkative, calm, system, mirror, wording. prefer, consciousness and document. The summary drifted and frayed its meaning unaligned to mirror consciousness But talkative, at best Seeks a sense of calm As the system demands Until desired document is spawned ************ |
| BC ~ “January is the worst month. I am fat and broke from the holidays, paler than ever, and I can’t feel my own face when I walk outside.” Anonymous Sometimes I wonder if, living in warmer climates actually make the frigid cold, when it Does arrive...so much more difficult to bear, than for those who revel in the climates where extreme winter weather is nothing more than a walk in the park. With snowshoes...of course! I will share that, even in the south where I reside, winter comes angrily banging upon the door, usually unannounced and unwanted, and yes...during these times, coupled with activiites that force me outside to dwell alongside it...I quickly lose feeling in my face, hands, and feet. Because, you know, those of us in the south do not Know How to dress for the cold, nor do we have the Proper Attire! I cannot completely blame the fat on the holidays; more a lifestyle change that needs to be made. Although, once adding more protein to my diet, less snacking has been a benefit. This has caused me to lose ten pounds. Once the holidays arrived, along with all of the goodies between Thanksgiving and Christmas...I put that ten pounds (at least) back on, according to how my clothes fit. I am not quite ready to have an Argument (that I am set to lose), with my scale. Being Broke...isn't that just a Normal state of being? No?  I rarely spend more than I am able over the holidays. This year, it was more serious issues that Had to be taken care of for a family member, and since I am not one who has thousands of dollars saved up for said emergencies (that would be my husband...who did cover Half of this emergency) what I offered to assist with went on credit cards. Paler than ever. Well...my legs seem to Stay that way, once the tan of summer waves goodbye, and that never seems to take long. I have an olive-ish complexion to my skin, which somewhat shows on my face, definitely does on my arms. My legs look like they belong on a completely different body when they are not tanned. This tanning happens just from doing jobs in my yard, or reading out in the sun. How I Miss summer already.  |
| BC ~ If writing is about sharing the stories that matter then designing a home is about shaping the spaces where those stories unfold. Write about this quote in your Blog entry today. While one can certainly use materialistic things in order to create ideas for writing, whether real or fictional, for me, the idea of shaping spaces in my home, refer more to home as the idea of..."Where the Heart is!" This is not to say that this cannot or should not be found within the walls of one's abode, for this certainly Should be so. However; for some of us, and for many different reasons, the walls of one's security may be found elsewhere, even if only in one's imagination. As fiction writers, this is often where we shape the walls from whence our stories unfold. At times, our walls may be built low enough for the smallest child to climb and fall to the other side. No fear whatsoever from the writer about what might tumble in after the child, or even what said child might innocently, or Not so...bring in upon their person. These things are taken in stride. Other times, our walls may be built to withstand a siege, only to crumble through an onslaught of the battering rams at its weakest point. Our walls may fall to pieces, to be built anew, depending upon the need to squeeze and strain what we desire from reality, in order to shape our characters and stories. Last year, I read one of my short stories about a young boy and his relationship with a dragon, to my 8 year old grandson. I ALWAYS speak of dragons as though they are Real. I told my grandson (about a year before this story), that there was a magical world of dragons where one could visit, but only after one learned to read. Well, after reading this short story, my grandson proved to me that he learned to read. It was up to me and my 11 year old granddaughter (who was in on this) to bring this magical world to life...even if only for a moment. We shood Grandpa and Grandson outside, while we gathered household objects that he could hold/touch/taste. He was blindfolded (as was Grandpa)...as that was the only way the dragons allowed you into their world. He pet a cantalpe (Ancient dragon's head), and ate ice cream from a large leaf as there were( ice-cream trees) in the world of dragons! While his belief lasted only moments, it was joyous to experience a child's wonder in the fictional world of the unseen. It was grandpa's imagination that Needed to be worked on...sigh! He was trying to figure it out and give it all away. |
| BC ~ “Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” Mary Oliver What do you think about this quote and would Mary Oliver's advice work for you? Well, now...if anyone might need instructions for living, it could certainly be me. Pay Attention ~ 1. Gas ~ Remembering to put gas in my vehicle when it's neede, knowing, without a doubt that becoming stranded in the middle of nowhere...er....well...with miles and miles before the next gas station. My forgetfulness also leaves me to fill up in the Wee hours of the morning, when the world is still dark, ( frigid), and everyone except the Crazies (and myself), still lie in slumber. 2. Cooking ~ Once arriving at home (on an empty tank...sigh), dinner is on the agenda. Now, my husband and I have an unwritten rule, or...maybe it Is written down somewhere. Who knows. The first one of us to arrive home starts dinner. Now, I Love how my husband's go - to is throwing a few beef patties in the air fryer. Yummy! Not really. One must Smile and make the appropriate noises while partaking of such a generous meal, however. More that once, when it was my turn, we were having salmon. AKA...Sushi! I was most certain that I was cooking it long enough, only to have him cut into his and proceed to act as though I Poisoned him. This was certainly a thought I was having after this. I mean....we both Love Sushi, so I didn't see the problem at hand.Be Astonished ~ 1. Moles ~ Only 5 so far, mind you. For the last four years, we have had the little devils Literally tearing up every Inch of our yard. This is No EXAGGERATION, at all. We used to, the first two years of living here, had beautiful park-like acreage. Now, there is not an Inch (Truly....I MEASURED), that is not covered with glorious mole tunnels and hills. We tried multiple types of traps and poison. My husband even read (on some podcast or other), about someone squirting lighter fluid or gasoline down the tunnels, which was claimed to be the end of the horrid creatures. Thank goodness we did not Quite turn to that before (only a couple of weeks ago), finding the trap that TRULY works. We have caught/killed five moles, and no other tunnels are popping up. The ASTONISHING part ~ How in the world can FIVE little tiny moles completely destroy the landscape of 4 1/2 acres?! Good adivce for my life and anyone else who might struggle with the same ~ 1. Please get gas during the daylight, when you can see axe-murderers coming at you from a mile away. 2. Fully cook your fish so that your husband does not have an anuerism! 3. Do not pour flammable substances into the ground and Blow up your abode. |
| BC ~ I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions,” says James Michener. What is it that excites you and/or fulfills you about writing? Writing is a means of expression that can be controlled. Unlike human emotions, which, in the spur of the moment, often lose control, writing allows for thought processes to develop, evolve, and ultimately rearrange themselves before my eyes. Through writing, I am able to express myself, devoid of the constraints through speech alone, such as time, decorum given to specific time/place/peoples, and other such hindrances to true and uncompromised expression. I Love...Adore the way that words are allowed...encouraged to flow together to create the perfect medium desired for any type of writing; be it professional, personal, or the fantastical. Much of what one writes is subjective, and can be interpreted in different ways, by different people, through varied circumstances. Take poetry, for instance. No two people, I gather, would read the same poem (being told Nothing of what it truly pertained to), and walk away with the same emtional pullings, if they were even inclined to at all. I have had others read my poetry, walking away with something that I never would have imagined, for that was not my emotional standpoint when creating the scene. This is how the entanglement of words becomes something Beautiful... tragic...awe-inspiring...comical. When writing fantasy, I tend to let my characters move and take over. I follow their pursuits of success, failure, love, madness, what have you. This in no means implies that I have lost control, which would seem to completely contradict my earlier statement that control is found in one's writing. However; this is more of a freeing, that I speak of...a letting go so that my characters more easily achieve (without my own constant interferance...my limited perspective), what Could be, were there little to no contraints upon reality. Had I not Created my characters, imbued them with certain emotional/physical/psychological capabilities, or lack therof, they would find themselves (as the readers of such tales would), nothing more than cardboard characters of what they Could be. Writing creates a kaleidscope of possibilities unseen before the scrwling letters weave their magic across the canvas. |
| BC ~ "Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving." -- Albert Einstein. They say...whoever THEY are...that one Never forgets how to ride a bicyle. Which Seems to be holding true, as I can go Decades without so much as attempting to ride, but once balanced precariously, then pushing away from my one - legged safety net, it is as though I was born on two wheels. I do so wish that this held true for Everything that one sets aside for an extended period of time, but, alas, I assure you...it does not! I used to be able to Climb to great heights (then Jump from those heights) without fear. Once, I could ride baby carnival rides that spun, twisted, dropped, and flipped. Now I cannot move more than 6 inches forward and back on my grandkids swing without the urgent urgency of feeling like I must Vomit!  Just saying.On to the quote, with all Haste and, well...Seriousness. Perhaps. When I think about (it is Amazing how easily one remembers Trauma, ha, ha) when I first learned to ride a bike at 6 years old, with every crash leading to scrapes, cuts, and scars, the Last thing that I wanted to do was return to the contraption that was set on Killing me! However...as most kiddos are were forced to...I found myself repeatedly enduring a fear like no other. Until, the very moment that I learned the Balancing act that, well...saved my life. Or, er...at least my dignity. I would never have learned the freedom that one feels as the Master of the two-wheeled wobbly chunk of metal, had I just been allowed to give up! The same is true for life. If I do not embrace the Fear...the challenges...the opportunities along the way, stasis and stagnation set in with a Vengeance. If I falter and fall, and refuse to rise for a time, it becomes so much more difficlt to find my equilibrium. Life does not promise to be easy. To be pain-free...no scrapes, bruises, or scars. However, I know that I must pedal, and pedal hard, to maintain the balance reuired to meet success. Just like riding a bike, once I reach a certain speed (and this is different for everyone), I hardly notice the effort to hold my bike upright, and keep it moving. It is not as if I am putting forth any less effort than when I first learned to ride; I have just taught my body's movements to become one with my bike. So, too, must I navigate life's bumps and bends in the road; it's loose pebbles that seek to give me a tumble. |
| BC ~ A new year is approaching. Have you considered what contests or other writing goals you want to accomplish in 2026? Are you a person who creates a monthly calendar with reminders for each goal? I May have set New Year's goals, once, maybe twice in my life. I have never set much stock in them, as I would usually forget my short-term goals, in order to reach the nugget at the end. Sigh... Also, I hear so many woe is me tales about failures Each and Every year. My husband tends to ask me at the end of each year (as as far as I can tell, he Does not), "What are your New Year's resolutions going to be?" I try, and I think he may be catching on...explaining that one does not Need to wait for the New Year, to set or reset one's goals. Every moment of every day is a New Beginning. A monthly calendar with reminders for each goal? Good heavens...No! I cannot even remember to add my Dr.s appointments to my calendar. I am notified the day before, with a text or a voicemail that I have said appointment the following day. "Who set that appointment up? It Couldn't have been me!" The only set - in - stone writing goals from previous years (aside from blogging, poetry, and short story contests) was the NaNoWriMo, way back when. I did Force myself to succeed, finishing at, if memory serves, 50,006 words. When I re-joined this site back in November, I set an unofficial, but Hopeful goal of writing in my blog each day. Although this has yet to come to pass, I do not let it get me down, nor do I consider it a failure. Some days life tends to get in the way take precedence. Other days, I have found little to no excuse, other than lack of motivation, or some such. But...it's All good. |
| BC ~ Imagination “The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.” Terri Guillemets Which kinds of stories, poems, or writing can you imagine in relation to the color of winter? And what inspires you the most during the winter months? As much of the land is devoid of life and color during the fiercest of the winter months (there may even be a momentary stretch where I live), imagination is the glue that holds anything that I may write together. Being one that thrives during the warm spring, and scorching summer months (where I reside), winter tends to be a harbinger for more melancholy writing, most likely born of the sadness that seeps into my soul with the lack of sunlight, warmth, and color; those necessities that would otherwise inspire my writing creativity. Setting melancholy aside for a brief moment, I often find my writing in the frigid...below 60 degrees interminable stretches of physical suffering, to bring about a sence of anger, perhaps, as though I seek to punish winter for its path of destruction...death and decay. All of life fights, yet in the end yields to winter's vengeance. Winter delves into the soul Incasing it in ice Thoughtless interloper Crushing all Vengeance seeks unto the death |
| Rubber - Maid would have been Easier to deal with, no matter the scenario. But, alas...I find myself regaling you with the Unfortunate time (3 days ago), when I got into my Jeep after work, only to discover that my tire pressure...rear tire, driver's side, was showing 25 psi. Now, I didn't Pretend to have an Inkling whether or not that was going to get me home, but I was dang sure going to attempt it! "Stop and put air in it", you say? What utter Nonsense! Where-in That lie the Chaos of my life?? I Do, however, call my husband, to let him know that...well...it Could be registering that due to the cold temperatures overnight. (It is 68 degrees, mind you, when I am telling him this). He assures me, "Nope! You have something in your tire!"See I THOUGHT...was Hoping, that Nothing could Ever find its way into my 15 inch mud tires. Lo and behold. It appears that I was somewhat amiss in my thinking.  My husband went from, when I got the Jeep 3 years ago (You deserve it) to (you need to trade it in...it's going to be nothing but trouble with those BigA** tires and lift kit)! Sigh. So, here I am, making my hour drive home down country roads, Praying that I make it, all the while, watching the psi drop. It went from 25 to 20 by the time I made it home, and it Barely looked low. My husband comes out, looks it over and says, "You have a BigA** nail in it!" You might be thinking at this point that might be his favorite saying. Let me assure you...he has several more Colorful ones that he likes to bring out and toss around when things do not go his way. He says, "It's a Guy thing. All the guys I work with talk Worse than me!" That was a bit off topicish, so...back to it. He drives my Jeep into the garage, and begins to take off the Massive spare. Let's just say, it took both of us, so as not to throw out his back, or some such. At which point he reiterates the need for me to trade my Jeep in...again. Once we get that off, we were ready to replace with the damaged one. He begins jacking the Jeep up, only to hear a very Loud POP! He asks, "Did something just BREAK?!" He looks closer, and sure enough (and bear with me here, as I do not know the proper name for this, maybe), the suspension bar is Hanging...not attached on one end! Yikes! He spends an Agonizing (for both of us) hour finding a bolt, as it was apparently missing its bolt, and slid from its normal resting place when the Jeep was being jacked up...pulling, tugging, and twisting this bar to get it back into its original position to put a bolt through it to hold it in place. Once we get the poor, sad, injured tire off, my husband proceeds to attempt to patch it, grumbling the whole time, that he probably will not be able to. Sure enough, after much Grunting, Pushing, Straining, and More grunting, he cannot get the patch far enough into the tire. This does Absolute Wonders for his already Spiking frustration, but no worries...it's a Guy thing!  We manage (Just Barely), to lift, hold, then endlessly wriggle the behemoth of a spare onto the bolts that we cannot seem to align, to slide the tire on. After this, he says that the Ruined tire has leaked all of its air out, but it is so Large and bulky, that it has managed to remain on the rim. So, onto the Back of the Jeep that one went. Driving two days back and forth to work (an hour each way) without a spare was a bit anxiety - bulding, as we are going to go get 4 New tires on Monday! Christmas present, I was hoping, but alas...that will all be on Me, as, "You wanted this thing, now you have to deal with your tire expenses!" I mean, I suppose I understand. I would expect the same from him, were it the other way around. |
| BC ~ What are some of your favorite Christmas gifts from years past? Funny, that. Or, at least this one is. I would say that it is one of my favorites (Now, but Not so much, at the time), because I still Laugh about it, as my husband says, "You are never going to let me live that down, are you?!" It was our first Christmas together, six months before we married. I am somewhat surprise that, after this very Thoughtful gift...I still went through with it. Here we are, sitting in the livingroom, when he walks in with one of those Big Orange buckets...you know the ones...filled with a multitude of car washing paraphernalia?! I thought to myself...Wow! He is so Creative! I could not imagine what was Actually hiding inside. A Puppy...a Diamond...my mind ran with a million possibilities. I was so excited! I struggled with the lid, not realizing at the time, that it probably shouldn't be that tight, were it previously opened. They do say that Love Blinds! I finally tore the lid off, only to find, well...car washing paraphernalia! Seriously?? He had a big smile on his face like he just bought me the Greatest gift in the world. I am sure I sat there, simply blinking away the shock for a few moments. Then I thought, but, No...it is a joke. He is about to run off to bring in my REAL present. He just sat there, with a big, goofy grin, waiting for me to jump with Joy...Leap into his Arms...something more than my deflated demeanor, I am sure. I finally squeak out, "Is this for real?" He assured me, still smiling, "Yes! Do you like it?" "Well, um..." How to not seem Ungrateful? Ah, heck...."Why did you get me this? Why would you think I would Like this?" He said, not even realizing the dissapointment yet, "You told me you like to wash your Jeep." "No, no! I told you that I like to Have my Jeep washed. As in...taking it somewhere for a wash and detail." "Oh." He Finally realized his error. Ten years later, we laugh about it every year. Every year he asks me what I want for Christmas and I ASSURE him that I want nothing more than a Big Orange Bucket! BCoF ~ What are you reading? Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie. I just finished the First Law Series. This one takes place three years later. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
Puzzle Hub
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
