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 |  My blog for the blog challenge |
| Ahem, ahem, ahem ... cough cough cough ... mememememememe ... Okay, I'm ready to write now. |
| Started great. Turned sucky. Ended with a friend reminding me that even good change is still change and I need to let myself adjust. No favorite blog this week. No longer having fun with this, especially since the one blog that I found highly offensive won a MB. Prompts have gotten pointless and time consuming, not challenging. Quitting. Bye. |
| Prompt for July 20, 2013 Write a piece incorporating at least five song titles. Be sure to bold the titles so we can all see! Oh, What a Beautiful Morning we had today. Sunny and seventy with just enough breeze to keep us from being hot. I sat outside with my silkie chickens and drank some hot tea while feeding them little tomatoes off the vine. The neighborhood was quiet for a time, which is rare on a weekend. Usually we have lawn mowers buzzing and motor cycles grumbling and little kids screaming all the time. There's Many a New Day in our neighborhood that are not this peaceful or quiet or nice so I was happy to take advantage of it. Usually it is sweltering in the summer in Oklahoma where the wind comes ... in big torrential storms and tries to blow us all away. I've lived here most of my life so I know about these things. Tornadoes are NOT like you see them in movies. They don't last for hours, no one has warnings days in advance, they don't sit and spin over one place for what seems like an eternity, and if all the trees blow away and the barn is completely destroyed and the fields are scoured, the farmhouse is not going to be standing at the end for people to walk out of. The reality is far less dramatic but far more devastating. I've heard all the stereotypical things people say about Oklahoma. They ask if people run around with guns and ride horses everywhere. Or if Indians still shoot at us with bows and arrows. I just shake my head and walk away. The best thing I was asked was if I knew anyone who lived in Michigan since they were so close to one another. What can I say? Cain't Say No because I do know some people from Michigan. I have family in Michigan, however, Michigan is not that close to Oklahoma. I can tell you, however, that while I have seen Indians in full dress regalia, been to a Pow Wow, enjoyed several evenings at the Wild West Show, I have not seen a Surrey With the Fringe on Top outside of a museum and that museum was in Nebraska. I have been in a sod house and a dug out. My grandmother's family lived in both at various times. She was born in a dug out in the bank of the dry wash near her dad's brick plant. She was a first generation American through and through born in Indian Territory without a doctor in attendance at all. The last of nine children she was the first one to finish high school. And she spoke Gaelic her entire life. Nowadays, I wish I hadn't been too busy to learn it from her. |
| Prompt for July 19, 2013 Take something you are frustrated with: The toilet seat left up again? The folks who seem to hold family reunions in the middle of the aisle at Wal-Mart? Whatever it is, take the incident and write a humorous revenge piece. What are the ridiculous lengths you would go to? I have no idea what this prompt means. What is a "humorous revenge piece"? I have no idea. And after yesterday's incredibly offensive writings about the Americans ... I'm not sure I'm even going to try to continue with this challenge. Far from getting comments every day, I maybe get one a week and most days no one even reads what I've written, so what's the point? At first it was a challenge to see if I could keep up with all the different things to write ... but when I don't even have a clue what a prompt means ... |
| Prompt for July 18, 2013 Gun control: What side are you on? Are you even on a side? State your position. Oh boy ... I dislike being asked these questions, not because I don't have an opinion, but rather because I do have an opinion and tend to wax on and on about things like this when asked my opinion. So, you have been warned. Lol. Where I was raised and when I was raised, typical childhood rights of passage included the first day of gun ownership (usually around the eighth birthday), the first day of hunting, and the first time your daddy whipped your behind for doing something stupid with said gun. By the time I was eight years old, I could take apart the shotgun, clean all the parts, and reassemble it without help. At the age of nine I shot my first deer. The recoil of the gun knocked me on my behind and left a bruise on my shoulder about the size of pancake. If there were any lingering doubts about the power of a gun in my mind, that day they disappeared. I knew what it was to kill something. My whole childhood I spent riding around in pick-up trucks with gun racks in the back, with loaded guns in the rack. I never spent any time worrying about them or even thinking about them. They were part of our life. They were a necessity. We stocked our freezer with deer meat, pheasant, quail, and rabbit with the odd turkey thrown in for good measure. It was part of life. Even in high school a lot of the boys drove pick-up trucks to school with loaded guns in the rack in the window. No one made a fuss about them or sent anyone home because of them or, heaven forbid, ever thought to call the police and have them arrested because of it. Everyone of those boys knew if they did something they weren't supposed to do with one of those guns, the police would be the least of their worries when their daddies found out what they'd done. All that being said, you probably believe that I am pro-gun ownership. Well, before I tell you, I need to relate a completely different side of my life. When I was twenty-two years old, I was walking home from work one day and a car bomb went off less than half a block from where I was. I was thrown to the ground from the concussion of it. I lost my hearing, temporarily, but was otherwise physically unhurt. Another woman who had been a few yards ahead of me was not so lucky. She died from her injuries, in my arms. When the rescue workers came, I could see the lights on their cars flashing. I could see them scrambling around doing what they needed to do. But there was no sound at all. When they came to us, I was sitting on the sidewalk holding the other woman. We were both covered in blood. They kept talking to me, I know because I could see their lips moving, but I couldn't hear a single thing that was said. I couldn't explain to them that I wasn't hurt. Of course, I wasn't hurt physically, but no one walks away from something like that unhurt emotionally or mentally or spiritually. That same year I was going to meet some friends at a pub and then we were to go to dinner and a movie together. When my roommate and I got off the tube at our stop, everything seemed normal and we proceeded to make our way up and out. But as we left the station and moved out into the street, we encountered a mob, a riot and everything you have ever seen or heard about that could happen in a riot was taking place. Bottle bombs were being thrown, police were in riot gear, people were throwing rocks and whatever else they could get their hands on, stuff was on fire. It was almost surreal to walk out into the middle of it. We were hurriedly ushered back into the tube station entrance by a few police men and the gates to the station were closed behind us. Needless to say, we didn't go to dinner and a movie that night. I have never in the remainder of my adult life been subjected to such violence anywhere. Maybe I've been lucky or maybe it's because I have spent the remainder of my adult life tucked away back at home where I grew up. I don't know. I just know that I am a poster child for the saying "Guns don't kill people. People kill people." The car bombing and the riot I was in both took place in the United Kingdom, a country which has one of the strictest set of gun laws in the world. But those anti-gun laws did nothing to stop the violent acts that cost people their lives. Guns don't kill people. People kill people. The acts of violence I experienced that resulted in the death of innocent people had nothing to do with whether or not someone had a gun in their hand or not. They were simply evidence that evil people will perform evil acts upon other people as long as evil is allowed to exist. In the United States it is our constitutional right to bear arms. For many generations it was a necessity to have a gun in the home not only to provide food for the family but to protect the family from wild animals, marauders, etc ... My ancestors moved West with Daniel Boone and formed a settlement that was completely destroyed and burned out by native Americans. They encountered bears and mountain lions and rattlesnakes as big as a grown man's thigh. They needed their guns. When they were called to fight in the civil war and in the Mexican-American war, they had to carry their own guns. It's how our country was settled. It's part of who we are. At this point in my life, I don't own a gun and neither does my husband. Although we run a turkey farm and therefore put down livestock from time to time, neither of us condone violence in any form and we're both too soft heart-ed to go hunting any more. Our children have never learned to hunt as a result. Even though they have seen chickens, rabbits, and turkeys put down and they understand that death is final, they have never taken a life and I hope they never do. All of that said, yes, I am pro-gun where it is legal and because it is a right of the people. Even though I personally don't own a gun and hopefully will never need to own a gun again, I would never try to remove the rights of others to own them. I believe, after all I have seen in this world and in my life, that a gun in the right hands is no more harmful than a pencil. |
| Prompt for July 17, 2013 Describe an odd or unusual writing habit or ritual you or someone you know has. I'm not sure how odd or unusual this is but I have to have a glass of crushed ice beside me while I write. Something between the cold of the ice and crunch of it between my teeth, helps me concentrate and filter out all the other noises going on in my home at the time. I also have to have the air conditioner running so that it's cold where I am. Hot weather and me just don't mix well and never have. That's probably another reason I like the ice so much too. Plus the air conditioner is another level of background noise that is steady, filtering out all those random screams, squawks, thumps, and crashes which seem to be the norm in my home. (I have 9 cats ... chickens, turkeys, turtles, and a snake. Life is never dull.) And ... thank you very much for picking my Saturday blog as a winner!! I was so surprised!  |
Prompt for July 16, 2013 "Review" a old piece of yours from your port that you haven't looked at in a while. Has your writing style changed? What have you learned since you wrote that piece? (Be sure to link to it so we know which item you are talking about.) Interesting. Since I have been on WDC for a very short time, like less than three months, nothing has really changed as far as my writing style goes. I'm trying to figure out how to write flash fiction though so I have a couple of attempts at this but I'm still not sure I'm getting all the elements I need together for a true flash fiction piece. I've posted for reviews from others but so far have gotten nothing so it's hard to evaluate and change things without review. Here's a link to them:
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| Prompt for July 15, 2013 Is there a date in the year that holds some particular significance to you? Tell us the story! I must say this is another stump-er for me. I have too many dates that are significant really to hold any of them above the others. My son was born, one year to the day after our maternal grandmother died. My nephew was born on the day our paternal grandfather died. My cousin was married exactly one year after I was on the same date, and my other nephews birthday. My husband's birthday is the same as one of my cousins. My sister-in-laws birthday is the same as my dad's. My mother was born on Halloween. I guess today could be significant, depending on the future. I published my first poem today. Of course it wasn't supposed to happen this way. It's the first poem I ever submitted anywhere to anyone and it was accepted, therefore, I think it's pretty significant. I was all ready to go the round of rejections with it until it found a home somewhere but that's not how it worked for me. I'm thrilled to say the least. Now if only my novel could have the same fate!! |
| The Sunday Review! Prompt for July 14, 2013 Blog. Tell us about your week. What was your favorite blog entry of the week, and most importantly, why? My favorite blog entry of the week was probably Fran's ebay auction of her little black book. It was far more clever than mine and totally unexpected. The rest of my week has been up and down. Last weekend we had our 4th class in a writing series on fiction writing where I'm working on a novel. As other students mentioned, every month we learn something new that causes us to completely and totally start over on our novel's in progress. It's been frustrating for everyone concerned but I guess we're also learning that the writing process for a novel is time consuming and complicated. The whole is more than just putting words on the page and having a clever story line. A lot of thought goes behind the scenes and into the words. We had a great time in class though and laughed a lot which seemed to help mitigate the fact that I still wasn't where I needed to be in the process and had to rewrite, yet again, Chapter One. But I did and thought it was good. Then I got a couple of reviews. One was so helpful from here on WDC and I immediately set to work and got what I finally think is a great Chapter one. Now I'm moving on the Chapter 2 and 3 and hoping I can maintain the tone and voice and characters and story line. That took up most of my week. Then on Friday two of my cousins came up to visit for the weekend. I haven't seen either of them in two years. Even though we have facebook and email it just seems better to be able to have a real conversation with them. And today they joined us and my parents for my birthday dinner which was special. I also spent time this week in the garden again. Always it seems. Watering is never done but then neither is harvesting. I'm bringing in more tomatoes, eggplant, basil, and onions than we can eat so they will be getting canned very soon to be made later, in the middle of winter, into soup and spaghetti sauce and shrimp creole. MMMMM, I can just taste it now! |
| Prompt for July 13, 2013 What are ten of your favorite words (whether they be your favorite because they are fun to say, fun to spell, fun to remind other people how to spell, have significant meaning, or some other reason)? List them at the top of your entry, then use them all in a short memory of an experience you had as a child. (Be sure to bold the words so I can see them Wink ) My ten favorite words are: sassafras - it's so fun to say and I could never say it as a kid without getting all mixed up catfish - think about it cinnamon - it's fun and I still can't say it correctly cracker - it sounds like what it is gargoyle - fun to say, fun to look at crux - fug - cause everyone looks twice when you say it loquacious - my mother's friend used to always call me this and I never knew what it meant but I imagined it meant I was funny and sweet so I always loved it rococo - it could just keep going and going and going a din na ken na aux ta boutel - probably cheating here but since it's Gaelic and I can't spell it and I always thought it was one word, I'm using it (it means ... I don't know anything about it) The summer I turned 9 years old was one of those summers in the south that people write about in books and you can just picture yourself in the middle of it all. On Saturday mornings my dad and three other dad's in the neighborhood would load us kids in the car, in the dark, with boats trailing behind and head out to go catch a few catfish that could be fried for our supper later that day. In retrospect I'm not sure how our mothers talked them into taking all us kids with them or what they did while we were gone but somehow every Saturday morning off we went. Usually it was pretty fug out and by the time we got home all we wanted to do was take a cold shower and lay in front of the fan. Fishing was not really my thing. I was quite loquacious as a child which is not exactly a great quality in a fisherman. So my dad, bless his heart, who was an outstanding fisherman, would set me up on the bank with a couple of the other kids, worm and bobber on the line floating barely off the shore, a box of animal crackers in my lap, and set out in one of the boats. He always caught fish while I sat and ate the heads and then each of the feet off all the crackers in the box while completely ignoring the red and white bobber on the end of my line. That summer we also took a trip to New Orleans for vacation. Old cities like that were a favorite haunt of my parents on vacation. They would point out all the architecture to us and take us in the churches and down alleyways. Of course, all of the old churches in the south are unique but nothing quite like the rococo style ones in Europe with their looming gargoyles glaring down at you. I was introduced to sassafras on that trip. The street vendor told me it was just like root beer, but I didn't think so and still don't. We also ate those heavenly little puffs called beignets in the French Quarter. Somehow the memory of them in that open air cafe in the middle of that old city with all the sights and sounds that assaulted my senses from every direction is that they were so much better than the ones my mom made at home. Of course my mom drenched them in cinnamon sugar instead of the lovely messy powdered sugar we got all over ourselves in that cafe. The crux of the whole summer came one week in July, when my parents seemingly disappeared over night and were replaced by both of my grandmothers. We didn't know then and only found out many years later that our mother had miscarried a baby and had to be put in the hospital because she was hemorrhaging. We hadn't even known she was pregnant or why it was kept a secret. Anyway, the weeks with our grandmothers was enlightening. I learned how to make pie from my dad's mom and how to speak Gaelic from mom's mom. Everyone loved that I could make pie, but I would later regret learning so young as I had to make them from then on out. However, no one loved that I learned a few words of Gaelic because I found them so fun to say and being my loquacious self would repeat them endlessly. My favorite was always a din a ken na aux ta boutel. After about the twenty-seventh rendition of it my mother would start repeating under her breath I'll na aux your boutel if you say it again. |
| Prompt for July 12, 2013 Write a humorous listing for your eBay auction. Include the history of the item you are selling and why you are getting rid of it. Shall I wax poetical? or just flat out say I'm completely stumped on this prompt. I've never used eBay for anything and had to go google it just to see what it was like. It's also been over 100 degrees here for the last week and my humor got up and went a few days ago. And I'm frustrated with family issues that I can do nothing to change. So, if I pull off writing a marginally funny prompt response, I will consider myself challenged for sure! For sale: one laptop computer, 3 years old, regularly used, still is good functioning order Laptop was bought, originally, for our autistic son who has hand writing issues and needed a computer to take notes in his school classes. He used it for two years and decided he wanted a new one with a longer battery life so his grandfather, of course, bought him one. I then took over what my son was now calling a "relic" and began to write and peruse the internet daily on it. It still works beautifully, though it is getting short on GB space available, which will be easily remedied by deleting all the monster and alien world dominating games that my son insists can't be erased yet even though he has them installed on his "new" laptop. And, like our son pointed out with regularity, the battery charge doesn't hold very long so access to a wall outlet is preferred. So, why am I getting rid of it at this crucial juncture in my life of turning to writing full time? Well, it has one big problem and I am convinced that selling it is the only option to cure the problem. You see, it is a cat magnet. Every time I sit down to write, one (or more) of our precious and adorable sweet nine cats decides that it must lay directly on top of my hands over the keyboard thus rendering any attempts to write null and void. I swear that the manufacturer impregnated the hard drive and body case with a catnip infusion which will draw any cat from anywhere in about hundred mile radius straight to the keyboard. And then, once they have been drawn in, there must be a cat genie that lives inside and whispers to them that they must lay down and take a bath directly over the keyboard with special reminders that laying beside the computer or beside the human using the computer is not allowed or tolerated in the cat world. So, as you see, it must go. |
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