Through loving eyes – Trifecta Challenge

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My memory is vivid.  Her eyes moved evasively across our dirt-smeared faces and scanned our meager outfits.  Disapprovingly, those eyes formulated an opinion before we even had a chance to speak.  One by one she would pluck us from the line and dismiss us like we were disposable.  The torture of being an orphan was enough of a burden for a child, but living with the knowledge that each of us was special was even worse.  Not one of the couples who came to see us would spend the time to engage us in life, to let our unique qualities shine through the filth that we were subjected to each day.  I vowed to myself that, if I survived this Hell, my life would be about substance and not an outward facade.

The path I followed was no surprise to me.  The girls who live in my child care facility today feel empowered.  They are not concerned with their appearance as much as they are focused on the woman they wish to one day become.  I took my hopelessness and gave them hope.  I took my loneliness and gave them a loving home.  And I took my experience and gave them a chance to see themselves through their own eyes and not the eyes of a stranger.

~~

Written for the Trifecta Weekly challenge:

PLUCK: (transitive verb) 1: to pull or pick off or out 2 a : to remove something (as hairs) from by or as if by plucking    b : rob, fleece 3: to move, remove, or separate forcibly or abruptly 4 a : to pick, pull, or grasp at    b : to play by sounding the strings with the fingers or a pick

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. • If your post doesn’t meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz. • Trifecta is open to everyone. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.YS9z9fyZ.dpuf

A worthwhile journey

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Today my brother, sister-in-law and I spent the better part of the afternoon moving the remaining pieces of furniture from my mom’s house into their winter storage spot.  The house will be going on the market shortly and we need to store the rest of her belongings while we get her opinion and decide what to do with them.

Emptying the trinkets from the larger hutches had me looking over my shoulder a few times for the TV crew from the show Hoarders, but it was only the three of us and the overwhelming presence of nostalgia.  As each set of glasses or bowls was uncovered I was transported back to my youth.  It amazes me that a glass dish contains the power to bend time.  So many memories are locked in the tiny particles that make up those dishes and just holding them in my hands brought those moments rushing back.

Subtle whispers from past holiday meals escaped from a simple gravy boat.  Recollections of chocolate pudding with a graham wafer crust and whipped cream were etched into a set of glass bowls.  Hidden photographs spoke volumes as they escaped their incarceration in an old shoe box.

Each flashback was just as special and having my brother there to share them was time that I will treasure. Having the afternoon to stroll down memory lane was worth fending off the below zero temperatures as we loaded the trailer several times to empty a house that used to be a home.  And even though I don’t have room in my house for any new dishes, those things may find their way into my cupboards so I can listen to those voices from the past a few more times.

Through the eyes of a legend – Trifecta Challenge

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The classified ad was very succinct.  It didn’t use the word employee, it specifically used the word companion.  I wasn’t in the position to be picky about my job prospects or possible accommodation so I made the call.

I rang the bell and could hear the shuffling beyond the door frame.  It took her several minutes to reach the entrance and when the door swung open I was shocked by the state of her physical being.  She stood all of four feet tall, hunched and emaciated, and her skin could pass for a road map.  An oxygen tank hung haphazardly from a metal pole and she spun the wheels around to move it out of my path so I could enter the house.

Unsure of what I was about to face, I stepped across the threshold and closed the door.   The house was warm and smelled of cinnamon – nothing at all what I expected.  The walls were adorned with black and white photos and an old phonograph was scratching out “In The Mood” by Glenn Miller.  Her demeanor was welcoming and she ushered me into the living room where the smiling faces of Clark Gable, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and Joan Crawford watched as I took my place on the settee.  I felt like I had gone back in time.

The service required of me was simple.  I was to transcribe her life as an understudy in the 1930’s and make sure the world read her story and, not only knew her but, remembered her.

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The official age on her death certificate was 106 years.  She had lived over a century and only through her words did I understand the vast world she had seen change over her lifetime.  As I write this preface to her story, I am reminded of her spirit and her failure to relinquish her dream of fame.  It came too late but she finally got her wish.

~

Word count -323.  Image Credit – health.howstuffworks.com

Written for the Trifecta Challenge:  On to the weekly prompt.

1:  one that accompanies another :  comrade, associate; also:  one that keeps company with another
2obsolete :  rascal
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.
• If your post doesn’t meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz.
• Trifecta is open to everyone.

– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.bNnsoN4o.dpuf

A Christmas Present for myself

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I have reached an age that family, friends and I agree that spending a lot of money on each other at Christmas is no longer necessary.  The true spirit of the approaching holiday is about spending time together and not reaching too far into that budget to pay money for things that we don’t need.  We have adhered to that rule and the only money that exits my bank account over the festive season is for my nephews.

This year I blurred the lines a little and bought myself a gift.  It really has been a while since I splurged on something that may seem frivolous, but something I have wanted for quite some time.  So I opened the purse strings, threw caution to the wind and pressed that magical button on my computer screen.  What happened afterwards reminded me of how I felt as a child when I got that gift I had put at the top of my list for Santa.  In less than a month, I will be sitting 10 rows back from the stage to see The Tenors perform live.

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(image credit: composersinredsneakers.org)

If you are familiar with my blog, you will know how deeply I care about music.  I have eclectic tastes when it comes to my collection of tunes, but I am always drawn back to these voices.  The song they are singing in that video was co-written by my dear friend Kenny Munshaw, another very talented artist and songwriter, and the song was written to raise money for the Big Brothers / Big Sisters organization.  If you care to purchase the song on iTunes, fifty cents from each download goes directly to the organization.

The cost of this ticket in regards to my budget made me second guess my decision, but only for a fleeting moment.  I was made painfully aware today how short life can be by hearing of tragedies befalling a few families I know.  This is an opportunity that I don’t want to regret by not taking.  I may even get a chance to make it backstage after the show to meet Remi, Clifton, Fraser and Victor (and Darryn Neville!) and that will be the gift that will keep on giving.

Santa, you can scratch me off whatever list you had me on…..this year I got everything I wanted!

Requesting a favor

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Hello to all of my blogging, Facebook and Twitter friends.  I am appealing to you for a bit of help.  I have started a new blog for Shamrock Lodge (my new job) and would love and appreciate it if you could check it out and follow if you could.  The more exposure we get, the longer I get to keep my job.  😉

Here is a picture of where I get to go every day to work, and below is the link to the new blog site.

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Shamrock Lodge

Freshly bathed in saline

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I am a churning pool of emotion.  I am one of those people who can put themselves in anyone’s shoes to feel the emotion that pulls on their heart-strings.  Sometimes it is a true blessing and sometimes the catastrophic emotional breakdown is embarrassing.  The control of the outpouring of tears in public has been much improved but behind closed doors all bets are off.

Empathy is a gift that I feel truly fortunate to have.  It is easy to be sympathetic and try to understand what another human being is enduring but to be able to delve into that raw emotion and feel the searing scars of that pain as if it were my own enables me to really reach out to that suffering soul and comprehend what they are going through.

That mutual experience of emotion, for me, is not strictly reserved for direct contact with another human being.  I experience the same overwhelming sensations if I am watching an emotionally charged movie, listening to beautifully composed music or reading a consuming book that drips with powerful sentiment.  Last night my face was awash with tears watching a simple television show.  I’m not sure what came over me but the story was deeply touching and as I felt the first tear caress my cheek I knew there were more to follow.

Perhaps part of my longing to write with such feeling is because I want the person reading to have the same experience I had while writing it.  I want the emotion that held my heart prisoner to be injected into the reader with the same paralyzing sensation that I so easily succumbed.  I can only hope that once my novel is complete, the characters that I birthed will be overflowing with angst, ready to cry on a whim and that I can somehow find a way to make those feelings jump off the page.

One part water, one part rabbit, one part nuts

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In the 1987 movie “Fatal Attraction” Glenn Close convincingly plays an intelligent, articulate career woman with a penchant for revenge when her love is unrequited.  This was a very politically correct way of describing the insane nature of her character.  Near the pinnacle of her breakdown, Alex, played by Close, breaks into the house belonging to the object of her obsession and basically makes a soup stock out of the family pet.  My friends and I would use the phrase “bunny boiler” for many years to come after seeing this film.

Alarmingly, they do truly exist.  I’ve met some of them.  Perhaps they were not pressured to the point of bringing a pot of water to a scalding boil and stewing the family pet but they seem to wreak havoc in their own mind-boggling ways.  Obsessive behavior runs rampant and the clear and decisive nature of a normal human brain becomes more of a chapter in a research book than anything remotely resembling their reality.

Instinctively, most men can spot these women a mile away.  When the behavior pattern of a woman deviates from her usual likes and dislikes to mirror his – he becomes moderately suspicious.  When she begins randomly showing up in places that he frequents or becomes obsessed with the hobbies or sports he is into – alarm bells begin going off at top decibel.

I have always felt an inkling of sorrow watching these situations unfold.  Being able to remain rational during the beginning stages of a relationship while maintaining your sense of self is difficult.  Maintaining that rationale at the conclusion of that relationship is overwhelming, but it can be done.  Sure you may have wanted, with every fibre of your being, to be a perfect fit for the object of your affection but it doesn’t always work that way.  Relationships are about learning more about yourself and being able to blend your strengths with another person.  Giving up your interests to absorb theirs will only make you lose yourself in the process.

If relationships were easy, we would learn nothing about ourselves and what truly makes us happy.  It is the bumps in the road and those unexpected detours that make us truly think about our ultimate happiness and how much of ourselves we are willing to lose on that journey to self-discovery.   The failure only comes when you are not true to your heart and true to your beliefs.  Becoming something other than your genuine self will only negate the process of discovering that true happiness.

I do believe that I have gained enough wisdom at my age to know when the subject of my attention has a vested interest in the qualities that I possess.  I have learned to be grateful for my wit and intelligence and I have faith that they are qualities that someone will appreciate as they are – not a warped version of them to blend into the color palette of their life instead of my own.  I have finally learned the value of being myself.  It took a while to get here, but the pilgrimage was worth the sacrifices along the way.

With that knowledge in hand, I can go forth into my next relationship knowing that I put my self-worth first and, more importantly, that their pets will be safe from harm.

Random selection – Are you up for a challenge?

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Back in June, The Cutter gave me a writing challenge.  Four random ideas were chosen and I had to write a blog including all four – my attempt is here.  I then threw the gauntlet back and offered up five random ideas and the result is here.

It was an awesome challenge and one I have been thinking about since then.  It was great having to really dig deep into my imagination and string a group of completely unrelated subjects together in one post and I wanted to put the challenge out there to anyone who is willing to participate.  Please feel free to pass this on to those in your blogging circle as well – the more, the merrier.

  • static electricity
  • Led Zeppelin
  • sushi
  • juggling
  • spray tan

Be as creative as you want and write in any form you want.  There is no word limit.   Link back to here so I can mention your post for the challenge.

Have a great weekend.

100 Word Song – Opportunities

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Did the money really matter? They were selling themselves short, losing sight of their true strengths. The opportunity had presented itself so innocently but the cost of their choice was epic.

Both educated and inclined to succeed, they relied on their looks to pave the way to their future. They completely negated their worth as human beings. Not only were they selling their bodies, they were selling their souls for the almighty dollar.

That money took the best part of them. It threw away their innocence and replaced it with bitterness and contempt. The adage lies – money can’t buy happiness.

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(image credit: newyorkdailysun.com)

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Written for the 100 Word Song Challenge: Opportunities, Pet Shop Boys. Lance and Leeroy at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog came up with this new challenge.  Go and check it out!

A heaping dose of perspective

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Picture 260

(It doesn’t look like this now, but it will soon)

The Heaven’s have aligned and I am back home after twelve days of living in a hotel room with my puppy dog.  I can’t even find the words to describe how it feels to be home – and that is a first for me!

I ran the gamut of emotions while I was under that temporary roof.  I was grateful to have that roof over my head and friends who cared enough to offer me a plethora of living options, but my frustration was undeniable.  I’m sure the bureaucratic red tape at a certain energy company tangled the process and elongated my hotel stay by at least five days.  But, I digress.

I flipped the breaker myself earlier today and was warmed by the glow of light coming from my windows.  In the days preceding I had been stopping by to check the progress of the work and my house sat lifeless on my property.  No light emanated from my windows and it sat as a cold, empty shell where there once was life.

There is still a noticeable chill in the air, inside, but I am home.  All of my electronics work and nothing else was damaged in the ordeal.  The only thing I had to do was call Bell to help download the guide for my satellite to get it working again.  The lovely woman I spoke to was in the Philippines.  I’m sure you have all seen the news of the devastation in the Philippines and, while she was personally unaffected, members of her family have lost everything.  We had a very fortuitous conversation that allowed me to truly put my seemingly overwhelming problem into the perspective it deserves.

I still have a home.  I still have all of my belongings and I have a large collection of friends who would be there for me if I ever needed them again.  I didn’t lose everything.  I don’t have to wonder how I will recover from such a devastating loss and I don’t have to mourn family and friends who didn’t survive.  These last twelve days were really just a hiccup in my existence.

670,000 people are now homeless and countless have not survived in the Philippines.  It really makes my previous rants seem so selfish and I will keep those people in mind the next time I want to complain about an infinitesimal problem in my life.