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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2050986-Marys-Golden-Moments/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/5
Rated: E · Book · Contest · #2050986
Blog Challenge And Other Tidbits
An opinion or two...or three or four...
Previous ... 1 2 3 4 -5- 6 7 8 9 10 ... Next
May 20, 2020 at 10:09am
May 20, 2020 at 10:09am
#983981
PROMPT May 20th

If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you choose?


This is an easy one for me. I'd definitely choose the body! Although...at age 30 I don't remember making the best decisions...but yes, definitely it would be the body. This time around I would treat it better. That's for sure. Here's what I'd do differently:

1. Stick to a healthy diet. No more overeating. No more snacking mindlessly. No more dairy. No more eggs. No more meat...except a little bit.

2. Stretch. Every single day. Mostly yoga to keep my muscles and mind flexible and strong.

3. Walk. Every single day. Walking every place I could walk. Walking from the farthest end of the parking lot. Walking in the park. Walking everywhere. And taking the time to enjoy the walk - time to "stop and smell the roses" if you will.

4. Sleep. Training my body to sleep more than 5 hours. Continue the cat naps. After all, I'm the Queen of Cat Naps. Good thing I have a cat.

5. Water. More water more water more water. This cannot be stressed enough.

6. Acceptance. Accepting me for who I am. Not perfect. Vulnerable yet strong. Passionate yet distant. Flawed yet perfect. Just me.

So that's what I'd do. I'd take better care of my body. And by the way, I fully intend to live to age 90 or beyond.
May 19, 2020 at 11:19am
May 19, 2020 at 11:19am
#983920
PROMPT May 19th

If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are living now? If so, what would you change and why?


It's hard enough to think of time when it's limited to only one year. What to do? What to get done? When to start? How to manage? What's important? I think those questions would lay heavily on my mind. For me one year seems so short. But on the other hand it can also seem like an eternity. It's the waiting that makes it so bad. But...one year is one year. It's finite and the deadline comes whether you like it or not.

Would I be happy? Would I be sad? Probably a little of both. I'd certainly work hard to make the most of every moment I had. Just like someone I know...who I knew...who I now grieve...

That someone is my husband's dearest and closest friend, Neil. They worked together for just over 20 years and retired about the same time. They looked like brothers and had the same quirky personality. They were also opposites in a lot of ways, too. My husband is always on time and always prepared. Neil? Not so much. Where one went, the other always showed up. The two of them shared a bond that I haven't witnessed in a very long time. My husband loved Neil like a brother...and so did I. So when the doctor said "Pancreatic Cancer" we braced for the worst. But never gave up hope.

Neil started to play golf again. He made time to travel. He saw us as much as he could. We reminisced. We laughed. We cried. But mostly we had smiles. We talked of retirement and we talked of the year ahead. Just one year...if he could make it one year then his chances were good.

But just two weeks ago, right to the day, the phone rang and we had to answer. Yes, it was the call. The one that said Neil was gone. It was less than a year.

"What happened?" we asked. And his wife told the story through a river of tears. To be honest we were shocked so we didn't hear much of the story. But I do remember one thing. And it's this: The day before Neil took his last breath he went out on a walk. He walked all around. He breathed in the air and he basked in the sun. He noticed the trees, the birds, the flowers. He inhaled the sweet scent of Spring. He was happy and at peace. He was ready to go. The next morning his body told him he was done. He took one final breath and closed his eyes for the very last time.

I miss Neil. I grieve for him. And I grieve for my husband who lost his very best friend. The pain is still raw, and the tears still flow. It was less than a year. But I think for Neil that was okay.

So if I had just one year...give or take...I think I'd spend it like Neil. I'd make sure to take those long walks. I breathe in the season. I'd bask in the sun. I'd let the wind blow gently across my face. And I'd close my eyes...knowing there would be peace.
May 18, 2020 at 11:48am
May 18, 2020 at 11:48am
#983866
PROMPT May 18th


What chore do you most dislike doing? Tell us a creative story about how you might get out of doing it.


Collin stood in his little kitchen. Crumbs covered the two-burner stove along with grease and crusted-on gravy that boiled over. He wasn't sure exactly when the gravy boiled over, but he hoped it was sometime in this latest decade. He opened the oven door, only big enough to hold a six-muffin tin. Tiny little thing but also black with baked-on grime. Collin sniffed. There was some kind of funky smell coming from the oven. He quickly let go of the door and let it bang shut. He turned to his tiny little sink. It was full of dishes. One plate that was cracking, one cup that was chipped, one fork that was bent, one knife that was dull, and one spoon, also bent. Yes, just one of everything but they filled his little sink to overflowing.

Collin sighed and blew out a rancid breath along with a few bits of toast which he'd had for breakfast. When was that exactly? Yesterday? Day before? Collin wasn't sure, but considering the stinky breath that clouded around him, it was surely time to brush his teeth. Hopefully he could find a toothbrush somewhere. If not, he'd just hop down the lane and steal one from the family that lived in the cottage set back in the trees. Yes, that's what he'd do.

Collin took another breath and turned back to his sink. How he hated, emphasis on HATED, to clean up the dishes. Yes, there was only one of each thing, a total of 5 simple things, but Collin just couldn't stand it. He hated to wash. He hated the soap suds touching his skin. He hated the sponge that squished in his hand. He hated the hot, steamy water that washed over his hands and his arms. And that was only the washing! After that came the drying! He could never be sure if his drying towel was actually fresh or not. But knowing Collin it wasn't. After all, he had only one towel. And the towel hung on the oven door and most likely never saw any soap of its own. Collin considered that towel. How long had it been since he had a new towel? Ten...twenty...thirty years or more? He spit a big "thwaaaat" and decided it didn't matter.

He shrugged his bony shoulders and looked again at the sink. Now Collin was a reasonable creature and he thought this dilemma through. If he wanted to eat he most certainly had to wash the dishes in the sink. Or...did he? Couldn't he just pick them from the sink and use them again? He was the only one using them so what could it hurt? And if he just rinsed them they were technically clean...right? No REAL need to wash the dishes because they would just get dirty again. Logical?

Collin thought and he thought. He scratched his head with one dirty nail. He scratched a small itch under his nose with the same dirty nail. And then he rubbed his left eye to relieve a little itch there...with the same dirty nail. And finally, that dirty nail tapped the bottom of his stubbly chin as he thought and he thought. And then he thought some more.

Suddenly, a deep, loud growl rumbled out of his belly. And it grumbled again. And continued to growl. Collin was surprised by the sound of the growl. He was definitely hungry for something to eat.

His pantry held a few items he could pull together to fill his empty belly. A little bread, some left-over jam, a pat of butter or two. And maybe...just maybe he'd find a chunk of cheese. Yes, that would be an excellent meal! But...but...but...he needed dishes for that. And his dishes were piled up in the sink! His belly growled again. He looked at his belly and he looked at the sink. And then...

One more growl and Collin knew what he must do. He did the thing he should never do. He grabbed the plate and he grabbed the knife. He spit on the knife and polished it up. He spit on the plate and polished that too. There! It was time to eat!

As Collin chewed on a corner of bread he decided there was one chore he could cross off his list. That's right. No more dishes for Collin. There was absolutely no need.
May 17, 2020 at 11:09am
May 17, 2020 at 11:09am
#983786
PROMPT May 17th


Write about a fictional road trip where you meet up with your fellow competitors from the 30DBC! Who do you visit first? Do you bring any gifts? Tell us about the crazy blogger shenanigans you all get up to! *Laugh*


A road trip! I LOVE road trips! Like my parents used to say, "Get in the car! We're going!" We never knew exactly where we were going but we always got there.

A road trip to see all the bloggers in the 30-Day challenge sounds like a great idea. I think I would head out and pick up everyone I could along the way to Robert Waltz 's house. He's promised some comedy movies and a good time. Of course we would have to arrive with all the booze. But that's simple. We'd also have to bring some snacks and appetizers and probably dinner. Also a pillow and a blanket because I think we'd all be sleeping on the floor. *Smile* But I can tell we'd have a good time.

And then...off to England with 💙 Carly for a wonderful writing retreat in an old ancient library. What a great idea! Hopefully, the library is also haunted. We could all tell some pretty crazy ghost stories. We'd work hard on our writing, no partying until it was all over. But that's okay because who wouldn't want to be surrounded by books in a haunted library for an entire week? I'm pretty sure there would be some adventures.

Of course WakeUpAndLive️~🚬🚭2024 doesn't like road trips so we'd have to drag her along. But we'd bring tons of music to make it fun. It could be a challenge NOT to listen to the same song. Ha! And we'd make her keep the list of songs we've already heard just to make sure we don't duplicate any. That would pass the time in a productive way.

We could talk about Collin for a while too. I really do need to figure out where to take the stories that creepy little creature keeps throwing at me. It would be great to get some ideas and advice from the writers at WDC.

And...of course, wherever we stop along the way we'll share dinner and drinks along with stories and laughs and maybe even some tears. And who knows? We might even write a book about this crazy trip. It might even become a best-seller. Well, that's what I hope anyway.
May 16, 2020 at 12:20pm
May 16, 2020 at 12:20pm
#983717
PROMPT May 16th


Do you believe in ghosts or other supernatural entities? Have you ever experienced something you could not explain?


My mom firmly believed in ghosts, both good and bad. My dad always said there was no such thing. But I think he was really trying to convince himself of that, because he was always a little sensitive to the ethereal unknown. My mom was very sensitive to it but never let it bother her too much. And all of us, me included, are sensitive to one degree or another. And my mom always said, "Never let it in, and never dabble in that stuff."

So I never dabbled in that stuff. But for some reason stuff finds me. And teases me. And taunts me. And sometimes just flat out frightens me. So when something happens I try to break it down into explainable parts. Sometimes it works. And sometimes it doesn't.

A few years ago I experienced something that definitely couldn't be explained. It didn't terrify me, but I did go home with goosebumps on my arms.

Spouse and I decided to take a road trip up into the foothills for a day out. We stopped at quite a few small cities and towns along the way. It was a nice day of shopping and touring. Our last stop was Coloma, a small town that could only be described as quaint. Not much shopping there, nor was there a whole lot to see, but it did have a cemetery of interest.

Spouse and I love to walk through old cemeteries. In particular I love to read the stories left behind on the headstones and imagine what life was truly like during that time. Spouse loves to take pictures of the old headstones. I imagine he also wonders what life was like.

Now the cemetery in Coloma is a heritage pioneer cemetery. A person can only be buried there if they are descended from one of the original pioneer families. It was the history of all those families that drew us to the cemetery. Both of us were looking forward to learning about some of the oldest families in our region.

At first glance the cemetery was like any other cemetery. Headstones lay in long lazy rows among well-groomed grass and greenery. There were two little rolling hills that offered a trail to walk. It was peaceful and quiet. The breeze was warm and the sun peeked through a canopy of oaks and elms and other heritage trees.

Spouse and I were anxious to explore. He took the hill to the right and I took the path to the left. I walked slowly, enjoying the breeze and the songs of the birds. Along with the birds I heard another song. A whistle in fact. Someone was whistling a happy little tune. I knew it wasn't Spouse. I just thought someone else may have been on the trail. The whistling continued as I read the headstones and made up stories in my mind. The whistling never stopped. I wondered how someone could keep up a tune for so long. But I put that to the back of my mind.

I followed the trail to a little hill. Up I went, still enjoying the breeze. As I was walking my sandal caught on a small rock and I slid down the hill. I landed in a heap on top of a nice woman's grave. I must have let out a yell, because I heard Spouse say he was on the way. He was actually at the far side of the cemetery and it would take a few minutes to reach me.

I tried to get up and I felt someone take my arm and gently help me off the ground. I brushed myself off and said, "Thanks, I appreciate that." I assumed I was thanking my husband. But I looked around and he wasn't there. In fact, no one was there. And the whistling had stopped. "Hello," I said to the wind. No answer. No nothing.

Spouse finally arrived and asked me what happened. I asked if he was the one that helped me get up. He shook his head, obviously confused.

I explained what happened and we both just looked at each other. It must have dawned on both of us at the same time. Because both of us said at the same time, "Looks like it's time to go." And in two short breaths we went back to the car. We shouted, "Thanks for the help" and, "See you some other time." Then we rolled up the windows and locked both doors. We peeled out of the Coloma Pioneer Heritage Cemetery as fast as we could.

Now don't get me wrong. I was grateful for the help. And I was glad I got to meet one of the happy old inhabitants. But something so unexpected like that can sure make a person scared and drive them away.

We laugh about that incident. In fact, Spouse still teases me about it. And even though we laugh I still wonder who it was that helped me up that day. And what was life like for that happy old soul.

May 15, 2020 at 11:43am
May 15, 2020 at 11:43am
#983637
PROMPT May 15th


Write about a time when you or someone you know acted selflessly. What was the motivation and what were the results?


Acts of kindness, whether random or not, are what bring me the most happiness. In my doing, and in someone else's doing. They remind me that people care about me and I am loved. And when I perform them myself I get a warm feeling. On a greedy, selfish level I do enjoy that feeling. So, selfless? Yes, technically. But no in reality because I do get something enjoyable out of it.

One such act happened not too long ago. I was in Anaheim with my church pals and enjoying the entire experience. But two days after we arrived I fell quite sick. High fever, cough, body aches. I couldn't get out of my hotel bed! And yes, it was very possible I contracted coronavirus. My roommate and another friend took care of me for the entire time. Bringing me food, cold washcloths, medicine and water. Lots of water. I was miserable. But I recovered enough to make the trip home.

Needless to say I went straight to bed went I got home. And my husband took over my care.

He asked me one morning if I'd like some soup. Soup? I love soup! Especially chicken soup! And I've told people my whole life I make the best chicken soup in the county. My answer was a resounding YES! But Spouse also told me he would need help since he'd never made soup in his life. Not to worry. I would walk him through it.

So he dragged off to the store and returned with all the necessary items. And with love and care and a desire to help me get well, he made one of the best pots of soup I'd ever had. He was so proud of himself. And I was proud of him too. And yes, it did help me feel better.

At the end of the day I felt blessed and was happy, even though it took me nearly two months to get well.

Thank God for my friends in Anaheim. And thank God for Spouse. I know that I am loved.

By the way, I was tested for two strains of flu, and I was tested for coronavirus. All three of them came back negative. But even so I still believe I had the coronavirus. Never want to go through that again!
May 14, 2020 at 10:13am
May 14, 2020 at 10:13am
#983535
PROMPT May 14th

What was the best/worst letter or email you ever received or wrote? Write about the situation surrounding that letter, and why it was so significant.


Collin sat in a rickety little chair at his puny little table with a morning cup of tea. He plunked in two cubes of sugar which he stole from the family down the lane, and then poured in a little cream that he'd left out for a few days. The brew curdled into a muddy kind of muck. He gave the muck a few good stirs with the only spoon he owned. Well, he didn't really own the spoon; he'd stolen that too. In fact, just about everything Collin had was stolen. But Collin didn't care. He thought of it as simply "borrowing".

The table was shoved against the only window in his cottage. He could see everything he needed to see from that window. And that morning, as Collin peered out the window, a small bird, tiny in size, flitted from a tree and perched happily on the flag of his post box. The flag! It was up! There was mail in the box!

Collin threw his spoon aside and gulped down his muck and raced out the door. He pounced on the box and gave it a hug. Collin always gave the box a hug. He loved to receive mail. Not that Collin had any reason to receive mail. He had no friends and no bills to pay. But mail was mail and Collin loved mail, and anything Collin loved deserved a big hug.

Mind you, Collin didn't love much. Well, he loved Colleen. That's who he loved. But sad to say, Colleen did not love him back. But he wrote Colleen letters, every five years for the past 200 years to be exact. And Collin hoped beyond hope that one day...one day...she would write back.

So maybe that's why Collin loved mail. Any day, any letter, could be a letter from her.

A little sweat broke out on Collin's face as he opened the box. Slowly and gingerly he brought the door down. He was almost too frightened to look. He squeezed his eyes shut and stood for a moment. Anxious and cold, he felt sweat drip down his cheek. For someone who loved mail as much as Collin loved mail, he certainly made a dramatic show of said mail. Then he pushed one arm into the box and pinched the edge of the little white post. Slowly he pulled and pulled some more, until finally...the envelope was out. It was out!

But Collin didn't look. Instead, he stuffed the little envelope under his grimy brown shirt and dashed back to the cottage where he fell into his chair. He pulled the post from his shirt and flipped it from one side to the other. He ran a long nasty nail under the flap. A beige bit of stationery peeked from under the flap. Collin's heart gave a start. This could be it! A letter from her! His heart gave a patter. And then...

Collin pulled out the paper and opened it up. His eyes shot to the end. He wanted only to see two little words...they were, "Love, Colleen."

But there at the end...oh how sad it was...no words from Colleen.

Collin sniffed a small sniff and took the letter inside. He placed it on a pile next to his chair. But Collin didn't lose hope. That was one thing he had. Because maybe tomorrow...yes, tomorrow...a letter would come. A letter for him. A letter from her.
May 13, 2020 at 11:21am
May 13, 2020 at 11:21am
#983466
PROMPT May 13th


Writing Sprint! Set a timer for 10 minutes and write without stopping about whatever comes to your mind. I challenge you to deny your urge to edit yourself as you write. If you must, you’re allowed to edit, but only after you finish your ten minute sprint. Ready? Set. GO!


Okay the timer is set. I'm ready to rock and roll. I just love sprints. I have always found them to be very useful and that's because it really is an exercise in being disciplined. No editing. No looking at the timer. No stopping. That's always the hardest part for me. No stopping. That's because I just love to stop and think for a minute or two about what I'm about to write. And I love to look around for inspiration. So this is a serious challenge for me.

As I sit typing and not looking at the timer and not editing and not stopping I am struck by how much I just want to go a bookstore and spend the day looking. It can be any bookstore! My favorite is Half Price Books in Citrus Heights right off Greenback. I absolutely LOVE that store. And I have a system for seeing every part of it.

First I turn left and head into the note cards and stationery and journals. There's always something there that catches my eye and I feel I must have.

Then I head off to the "What's New" shelves. I can always find a good murder mystery there. And it's kind of ironic that they would call that particular section "What's New" because the shelves at eye level contain everything that's new. Okay, that makes sense. But all the other shelves, both top and bottom, contain old and even antique books! What gives? Makes no sense to me but I don't mind. I just want to see what's out there.

And then...here's my favorite part...I head to the long, long rows of mysteries. There's probably four or five rows! That's a lot of mysteries! BUT I can always find something by one of my favorite authors. Lately I've been reading as many books as I can find by Kathy Reichs. I love that the books take place in French Canada and in South Carolina. Not all of the books are great, but some of them keep me up late into the night.

Oh, how I wish I could just spend the day in a book store. Of course I would have to control myself. I might just lose control and buy up everything that might interest me! Right now, though, I don't care. I just need to get out of the house.

Well, this has been a good sprint. I enjoyed my time just typing and I also enjoyed what everyone else had to write for their sprint. I think we should do more sprints.
May 12, 2020 at 11:19am
May 12, 2020 at 11:19am
#983383
PROMPT May 12th

Write about a fork in the road in your life, and how you made the decision to go the direction you did. What would have happened if you chose the other path?


If I look back at my life it seems like every decade I was presented with a fork in the road.

In my teens: Become a Writer or Study Finance at University. I chose to go to college and study finance. Because my parents said I could never make money writing.

In my 20's: Become a Writer or Work in the Retirement Plan Industry. I chose to work with retirement plans. Because I told myself I could never make money as a writer.

In my 30's: Become a Writer or Work for the National Institute of Pension Administrators (NIPA). I chose to work for NIPA. Because I told myself again that I could never make money as a writer.

In my 40's: Become a Writer or Become a Consultant for the Top Benefits Provider in Northern California. I chose to become a consultant. But I seriously questioned WHY I couldn't become a writer. WHY NOT ME? That was the biggest question of all.

In my 50's: Become a Writer or Continue Work as a Financial Advisor for the Remainder of My Career. It's here that I finally put my foot down and threw the proverbial tantrum. Damn it! I was DONE with the finance industry. WHY THE HELL COULDN'T I BECOME A WRITER AND GET PAID FOR IT? WHY, WHY, WHY? And it was here that I finally did something about it.

Late 50's: Become a Writer or Become a Writer. I chose to become a writer. I sold my practice for a handsome sum and learned how to write marketing collateral for small and medium sized businesses. I make good money at it. And the best part is that on the side I'm writing for just me again. I have another novel in the works and I intend to enter NaNoWriMo again this year.

I love my writing life. But I also realize that timing is everything. My work in the finance industry taught me to be disciplined, to work hard, to be a good business owner, and to never give up on my dreams. I am a writer today because of my training in finance. But honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. I am complete because I am Finally a Writer.
May 11, 2020 at 12:26pm
May 11, 2020 at 12:26pm
#983316
PROMPT May 11th

Look at a picture from your younger years. You don’t have to share the photo with us, but try to describe it in as much detail as possible. What led up to the photo being taken and what happened after?


Collin sat in his closet again. For some reason Collin had grown fond of rifling through that closet. There were so many baubles and treasures and pieces of junk. All of them tugged at his heart just a little. Well if anything could tug at Collin's heart that would be...well...close to a miracle. Because Collin's heart was selfish and cold. Black beyond black. And meaner than mean. That's what Collin thought anyway.

But as he dug through the closet, tossing all the bits about, there was one little spot on his selfish cold heart that wasn't so black. And Collin, though he would never admit it, actually liked that one little spot. And he found he couldn't help himself as he dug through the closet. He tried so hard to go out to the world, to play some tricks and set some traps, and send some ill magic this way and that. Because that's what Collin did. He thrived on ill magic and found joy in his tricks and traps. And in 400 years he didn't think he could change.

Not so fast, a small inner voice said to his head. You might just find something you like. And that small inner voice made his cravings so bad. Cravings to find what lay in the closet. Cravings to find something of joy. Collin couldn't stand it. But he couldn't resist. So he dug in the closet hoping this crazy craving phase would pass.

He dug as fast as he could. He tossed stuff about and threw objects afar. And then...his hand fell on something he never expected to find. A photo. Yes, a photo. Of Collin himself! It was stuck in a frame, the glass dusty and cracked. But the image was there. It was Collin alright. He peered at the photo and sat back to think. Exactly when was that photo? And why was he smiling? Collin crinkled his nose because he had no idea. He never smiled...except when, of course, he was lucky enough to catch some dumb human in a trick or a trap.

He cocked his head as he stared at the image, fading somewhat. So he knew it was a while ago. And yes, if he looked closely enough he could see certain things. Like the crazy spiked hair he sported for a century or so. Like the long fuzzy beard that grew for a time. Until of course it didn't grow anymore, and it fell out of his chin hair by hair. And all of his teeth were still shiny and bright. Yes, he could tell that from the smile on his face. And around his neck hung a black woven cord. And at the end of the cord...

Yes, that was it! The cord made all the sense in the world! It was graduation day for Collin. Form the Academy of Magic where creatures like him learned to stir up the wickedest of tricks and traps and ill magic. So that was it! A graduation of sorts.

Collin wondered where that cord could be. He was sure it still held his medal of exceptional skill for magic and spells. He wondered if it was in the closet where he sat. And just like that he felt some excitement. And a giggle of glee escaped from within. Forget all the tricks. Forget all the traps. Forget the ill magic. Forget everything for now. He just had to find that cord.

So Collin went back to digging again. Tossing things about and throwing objects afar. And the photo? Well, it was already forgotten and shoved aside. But Collin didn't care. After all his heart was selfish and cold. And the picture meant nothing except for the cord. And Collin...well...Collin just had to find that cord.




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