Category Archives: challenges

I’ll have hysterics with a side of dry pants please

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The weekly writing challenge immediately made me think of one photo and I scoured through my pictures to find it.  As you may notice from the stellar 70’s and early 80’s decor this picture was taken many years ago.  If I had to guess, I would say it was 1986 ish.

The challenge is this:  For this challenge, we want to see a photo of someone looking truly happy. Not “I’m-smiling-for-this-photo” happy, but really, deeply, twinkle-in-the-eyes happy. When we’re smiling a genuine smile, our whole faces get involved — our whole bodies, for that matter. There’s a light in our eyes. We look relaxed; there’s a forced tension in a fake smile.

Then we want to know why: what’s going on in the photo? What are you (or they) thinking about at the exact moment? (And if you really want to get into it: what happens next?)

My Nana used to think I was the biggest brat on the planet.  Hard to believe, I know, but that is a true story.  I was a high-spirited child with a penchant for making my presence known and I can see how, for adults, the novelty would have worn off quickly.  Thankfully as I evolved into a teenager and young adult I no longer felt the need to be the centre of attention and I climbed the rungs of my grandmothers favoritism ladder.

nana

This photo was taken during Christmas holidays.  Each festive season my grandparents would pack their car and make the pilgrimage north to enjoy the spectral portrait of our white Christmas.  Nana and I would spend hours in the kitchen cooking, baking and harmonizing to any Christmas Carol we could.  My dad would occasionally chime in and it became a three-part harmony and these moments became some of my fondest holiday memories.

After the casserole was in the oven, I left the kitchen to spend some time with my Grampa as he sat the recliner watching television.  My cat had decided that the recliner was the perfect post to sharpen his non-existent nails and began to rub his front paws on the side of head rest.  Grampa leaned around to see what was causing the movement to his chair and my cat stealthily, and with the grace of a fighter, smacked my grandfather in the face with his right paw hard enough to break his glasses.  Had there been a cartoon balloon hovering over my grandfather’s head it would have been filled with words similar to the descriptive fights in the old Batman comics.  Whap! Pow!  It was feline poetry in motion and my cat sauntered away, satisfied he had made his point.

As my grandfather slowly collected his mangled glasses from his lap, my giggles began.  I tried my best to control the laughter.  I knew Grampa was annoyed and my snickering was only going to add fuel to his fire.  I quickly made my way back to the kitchen to tell Nana what had happened and we laughed.  And we laughed some more.  We couldn’t seem to stop.  I replayed the assault in slow motion and we laughed harder.  Tears were streaming down my face and I had trouble catching my breath.  When the last of the giggles were wrung from my body my ribs ached and my eyes were swollen and bloodshot.  There was enough vision left in those ocular portals to see my Nana sneaking down the hallway to change her pants!!

I have many fond memories of visits with my grandparents before they left for the world they now inhabit.  I hope they remember this moment with as much fondness as I do. (at least I hope Nana does!)

Daily Prompt – No o’s?

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The Daily Prompt got me again!!  And I love the challenge of omitting a vowel.   I truly hope you won’t find an “o” in the below paragraph!

There are 26 letters in the English language, and we need every single one of them. Want proof? Choose a letter and write a blog post without using it. (Feeling really brave? Make it a vowel!)

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Every day we are ruled by nature.  Weather dictates activities and temperatures mandate apparel.  Climactic shifts are in the near future and spring is imminent.

Winter jackets will be put away, and in exchange, spring ensembles will appear.  Sandals will be the new sneakers.

The white blanket will melt and reveal the buds lying in wait.  Birds will sing their lyrical strains and creatures will saturate the nights with strained lullabies.

Cherished spring – we wait with prescience.

Held Captive – Trifecta challenge

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This is my entry for the Trifecta Challenge, which is this:  For the weekend challenge we’re asking for exactly thirty-three words written in first person narrative. Have fun with it and we’ll meet you back here on 3/3! 

(image courtesy of Google)

brain

I am afraid.  Not of being alone, or of being sick, but afraid my words will not adequately express my thoughts.  I am afraid my brain will betray me.  I am its captive.

Those elusive birds

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The Daily Prompt today truly got me thinking….and on a Monday that is slightly painful.  The challenge today is this – Clichés become clichés for a reason. Tell us about the last time a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush for you.

bird in the hand

(image courtesy of Google)

This may be a reverse approach to this challenge, but this is where my brain took my words.

Truly appreciating what you have without looking at what better things may come along may be easier said than done.  There is always the outward pressure of ‘what if’ that will make us ponder the value of what we have now versus the value of what may lay beyond.

We take the risk of upsetting the balance in our lives, that sure thing, to forage the unknown.  And perhaps the excitement of the mysterious is part of the allure.  Perhaps the elusive birds in the bush hold the key to something we have not been able to realize with the bird in hand.

It’s lofty to dream, but as long as we don’t let greed cloud our vision, each of us will always have that feeling of wanderlust.  It’s how we choose to act on that feeling that is important, and so far, I have never let that voracity interrupt the path that I have chosen.

Hidden in the Woods – Trifecta Challenge

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Here is my take on this Trifecta Challenge.

The clanking sailboat masts shouted with panic.  He wouldn’t look for long.   He could not abide the thought of any child discovering what he had discovered.  The woods were  now around the remnants.

~

This weekend we are playing another type of word game with you.  Below are photos from the 33rd page of one of our very favorite books, Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteridge.  What we want you to do is to scour the page (click to enlarge), choose 33 words, and reshape those words into a piece of your own.  Your piece does not have to tell an entire story.  We just want to see what you can do with this particular word bank.  Punctuation is up to you.  Use whatever you need, whether or not it appears in the photos.

What does it taste like?

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The envelope stood alone in her mailbox, her lawyer’s name etched on the top corner.  The papers had come and it was finally over.

She headed to her favorite restaurant and bought a bottle of Cakebread Cabernet Sauvignon and brought the glass to her nose.  She could trace the hints of dark berries, Cassis and mocha.  The aroma penetrated her nose and she savored the scent.  When she finally let the glass brush her lips the wine spilled over her taste buds. It was heaven.

The bartender was curious and asked her, “What does it taste like?”

“It tastes like freedom.”

100 word challenge

This was written for the 100-Word Challenge at Julia’s Place.  I just stumbled on it, and I do love a challenge.

I’m sure the water is fine – Trifecta Challenge

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I’ve never been afraid of the water.  But perhaps after spending five years trying to calm the waves in my marriage I have been left with the slightest hesitation about diving back in.  Divorce can feel like a Tsunami, like the calm before the storm.  There is a sense of peace and strange tranquility and then the rush of emotion comes like a tidal wave engulfing everything in its path. And like the Tsunami, you know that wave is coming but it’s nearly impossible to get to a safe haven.

tsunami

(image courtesy of Google)

The dating pool, although seemingly non-threatening compared to the violent storm waves, beckons and standing on the edge of that pool is just as daunting as watching that tide surge forward.  The water may seem calm on the surface but the hidden dangers lie beneath that placid sheen and the potential for another storm gives me pause.  The slightest touch of the surface causes ripples and pushes me back from the edge of the pool.

I watch as the ripples dissipate.  The soft blue glow seems so inviting, but the dormant threat still lurks under the veil waiting to lure me closer to the edge, waiting to gently touch my skin and pull me under when I am blissfully unaware of the current below.  I can’t swim, not now.  Maybe sometime soon I will remember how wonderful it felt to float in that water, how comforting it was to be surrounded by its warmth and to feel buoyant.  Maybe soon, but not now.

I’m sure the water is fine, but I don’t think I’m ready yet to hold my breath and jump.  For now I’m content to sit on the edge of the pool and exhaust every argument in my head as to why I shouldn’t just take the plunge.

~

This was written for the Trifecta Challenge:
EXHAUST (transitive verb)
1a : to consume entirely : use up <exhausted our funds in a week>
b : to tire extremely or completely <exhausted by overwork>
c : to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent <exhaust a photographic developer>
2a : to draw off or let out completely
b : to empty by drawing off the contents; specifically : to create a vacuum in
3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely  

Please remember:
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response.
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
  • Only one entry per writer.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone.  Please join us.

Telemarketing at its best

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They’re out there – lurking in the shadows, fingers haphazardly typing random phone numbers into their keyboard and blind-siding unsuspecting people with their scripted sales pitch.  And as much as we despise what they represent, they are merely doing a job.  They are collecting a paycheck.  But at some point during their work day, they become desensitized to reality.  They become so immersed in that script and they no longer have the free will to listen and respond appropriately.

telemarketing

(image courtesy of Google)

My mom has lived alone since my dad passed away in 2006.  She received a phone call the other day from an unrecognized number, but she picked it up anyway.  The person on the other end of the phone asked for my father.   My mom told the caller that my father was deceased and the caller simply replied, “I’ll call him again some other time”, and the call ended.  I may not be the most intelligent person on the planet, but I’m pretty sure he’ll still be deceased the next time they call.  Or perhaps this particular company has a listed number for Heaven and, in that case, I would love to see the long distance charges for that call.

I have been one of the fortunate ones and have not be inundated with telemarketing calls since I gave up my land line.  My cell phone has been safe thus far, but I do miss the moments of trying to confuse those callers and rouse them from their hypnotic state.  I would ask them personal questions about themselves and then would inquire as to whether there was an inconvenient time for them that I could call them back.

What is your favorite way to handle telemarketing calls?

The Bones of Life

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We all need three bones to survive, a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone.  It may seem like a uninspired observation, but those bones really brings us to the essence of making the most of our lives. These three bones, in their simplicity, outline what really should be important to us as individuals.

A wishbone will keep our imagination and hopes alive.  It gives us permission to dream and it keeps those visions alive and breathing within us.  The moment that we don’t bother to dream any more about what is still possible is the moment that the biggest and most youthful part of us dies.  Dreams are the rainbow of our soul and they give us that straw that we can grasp when reality overwhelms us.

Our backbone will lend us strength to persevere.  Life can’t always be about dreams and rainbows.  Developing a strong backbone will help guide us through those difficult and traumatic times and help develop a real sense of self.  Having the fortitude to put enough faith in ourselves makes our backbone that much stronger and makes us able to cope with the concrete that paves the path of our lives.

Our funny bone will give us the perspective to let the will of our wishbone and our backbone blend into a harmonious and happy medium.  There is a fine balance between reality and comedy, and it is that comedy that will bring that panorama of our world into a spectrum of colors that will be objective, yet frivolous.  Maintaining that sense of humor can only help get us through this journey with a sense of the childhood wonder and laughter that we all want so desperately to hold onto.

Take good care of those three bones.  They build the foundation of who we are and where we want to go.  And just remember, if they break, any bone can always mend with the proper care and attention.

comunikating fonetikly

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In this day and age of technology and digital communication, spell check is a wonderful tool.  It allows the author of written expression the ability to enhance the reader’s experience by communicating effectively and correctly.

Back in my college days, we weren’t as fortunate.  Leather bound copies of Webster’s Dictionary and Roger’s Thesaurus were never far from my reach.  I loved words and I wanted to be sure I expounded my visions in the purest possible form.  During those impressionable years, I attended school with many people who seemed to be as permeable to prose as I felt I was.

There were certainly exceptions to that rule, and my best friend Sandra had a college room-mate who was the poster child for the opposite end of that word spectrum. (you know who you are!!)  She spelled phonetically.  However it sounded to her, she seemed to create a new language to convey her message.

phonetic-alphabet

They were very caring room-mates and diligent to a fault about keeping the others aware of their whereabouts to alleviate worry.  They maintained a white-board on their refrigerator so they could communicate where they were and when they were expected to return.  While visiting the apartment one afternoon I happened upon this board and stared at it with growing wonder.  Although the symbols on the board resembled those of the alphabet I could not decipher the language in which the message had been composed.

Upon realizing that I had not left the kitchen, Sandra returned to find me still engaged in a staring contest with the white board.  As many times as I listed my head from side to side I still could not digest the meaning of the strange epistle on the fridge.   It wasn’t until Sandra took me word by word through the note, sounding out every syllable, that I finally understood the concept of phonetic spelling.  After that the intent of the scribble became crystal clear.

The “fonetik spelr” and I are still close friends to this day.  I find it amusingly ironic that she studied Sign Language in school!!  I am happy to report that she has mastered much more of the English language – no longer will we wury bicuz she tuk her baik to wurk and waz caat in trafik – clooz the buuk on this peij, no morr keiass.