Rebel with a pen

Stay at home they say!

Don’t go out they say!

Isolate yourself they say!

Well, the joke is on them! If you’re a writer, we already do all of this.

But, now that they are ordering me to stay in: I don’t want to stay in. I want to go outside and garden, or walk around as see who else is out and about. (There was no one out and about just to let you know) Just silly little me walking around.

Usually, I want to sit in my office and write and research until I’m starving or someone texts me to see how many words I have done in a day. I really want to write. I have eleven projects going right now. I know these projects must have a deadline, and goodness knows when they are due, but right now I am rebelling to the isolation rule.

I haven’t written much, but I have proofed one novel, outline another and printed out another to sit outside and go over. (Yes. I am one of those that likes to print (both sides) and write in bright red for all my corrections and notes.

So, all of us writers that must stay in and find something to do: WRITE! (and have fund) We will get through this together.

Feb. 10, 2020 Let the blogging begin…

I challenge the to a duel…

No wait,

I challenge the to a challenge…

No wait,

I challenge you to stimulate your mind but discovering a purpose to write about, then write about that purpose, and spend a few months revising that purpose of discovery.

No matter where or what you start with, JUST WRITE!

People always ask me, “How do you get your words read by others?”

My answer is, “You must write the words first.”

I love writing, and starting today, I am challenging myself to the 2020 Writers of Kern Annual Dan McGuire Blog Challenge! I feel I am ready to take on a challenge, with the help and guidance of my felling bloggers, I hope to succeed.

So, with nothing else to say, but “Let the Blogging Begin!”

A Purpose

Blogging Challenge Post #21 (honestly I have lost count)

During this isolation/lockdown/stay at home situation, I feel there are a group of people that are needing to feel needed.

The people in the ages of 70 years of age and older are already staying inside and not socializing very much. Well, other than the weekly bingo meetup, maybe the bi-weekly bunko game, and possibly a monthly crafting group, or Veteran’s meeting. But this is different.

The senior citizens of the world are needing a purpose to feel they are being productive during this trying time. I have watched my mom focus on the news for two weeks straight, and then this week she has Three Stooges movies playing and she’s been making tote bags, until she heard about the masks being made by two neighbors.

Now, she’s been at her sewing table, cutting, measuring and pinning to feel she is being a productive citizen. She’s not wanting to charge ten dollars for each mask. A simple three dollar fee helps with her anxiety of wanting to belong to the group that is finding positive outlooks on this trying time.

She also commented of how she doesn’t know how she will let people know about her masks, until I suggested Facebook. Once her photo his the Facebook network, she had more than twenty requests for the masks. Now, she’s in there listening to Three Stooges, and focused on sewing.

We have isolation order for twenty-nine more days, and for some of us, this isolation feels like punishment, but we need to keep out distance, we need to respect the warnings that the WHO is putting out there for us, and most of all, trust in God to get us through this time.

EXCERPT FROM: THE CHAT PILE

The Chat Pile by M.I. Norman blog #21

September 2018

          “What is all the ruckus?”  Asking my fourteen year old granddaughter as she released her anger out on the keys of my piano as the old tin can bounced across the top of the piano.

          “No one in our family understands how a fourteen year old can be in love.” My granddaughter’s tears dropped on the ivories.

          “Oh, sweetie. Every fourteen year old girl has gone through what you are going through.” I declare these words knowing my words mean nothing to the youngster crying her eyes out before me.

          “When I was fourteen years old…” my blue eyes sparkled. “I too fell in love with a handsome sixteen year old.” I sigh. “My daddy would’ve killed me if he would’ve known about my affection for a boy.”

          “See, you were in love at the age of fourteen.” Desperately reaching for the chip of reasoning she needs with her mom.

          “Yes, dear, I did fall in love when I was fourteen.” I admit.

          “GREAT! YOU CAN TELL MY MOM TO LAY OFF!”

          Shaking my head no. “No. I cannot tell your mom to lay off.”

          I waited for her next outburst, “because not only did I fall in love when I was fourteen years old, but your mother did as well, and every fourteen year old girl around the world has fallen in love at the age of fourteen.” I gently touched her face, and took in a deep breath.

          “Falling in love is great, but to build an everlasting love is a dream come true.” Tears formed in my eyes.

          Vivian’s eyes widen as she flops herself down on my sofa, “I bet grandpa will understand. He’s such a romantic.”

          “Oh, my dear you are so right. Your grandfather has romance flowing through his veins.”

          “My momma told me he was determined to find you, and make you fall in love with him.”

          I giggled, “Well, when he found those bones on the property, he was definitely determined to find out if they were my bones.”

          Vivian’s mouth gapped open, “bones?”

          I stood up, walked to the kitchen, and retrieve a plate of lemon squares and two glasses of tea. I sat down before my granddaughter, handed her a glass of tea, and offered her a lemon square. “Vivian, do you know what a chat pile is?”

          My granddaughters typical response was, “a what, and what about the bones?”

Chain of Events /Blurb

Blogging Challenge #20

Chapter 1

            Driving her small car eastward, approaching the end of the new asphalt street, Jade parks her car and steps out into the mid-day sunlight. A sign indicating a DEAD END seems appropriate, considering the ordeal she’s involved in. If she doesn’t follow the strict instructions, this will truly be her dead end.

          “Walk to the center of the block, and stand in the middle of the street.”  The instructions were clear on her home phone.

          Jade parks her car next to the DEAD END sign. She counts nine neighborhood blocks she needs to walk. The sun is shining and she’s glad she didn’t wear her coat.

          The tank top and jeans she’s wearing are perfect for this weather, but her three inch high heels are making her feet scream for help as she walks westward.

          The first block is void of people. A few cars are parked in the small driveways, and a few cars are parked along the street. The houses on the street are neat and clean. Not what she’s expecting. She’s overheard numerous conversations about the eastside of town. The nightly news is always reporting on gangs, drugs, prostitution, and the criminal activity happening on Ricardo Avenue. Ricardo Avenue is located on the eastside of town and is well known for criminal activities.

          She slowly glances at an address of one of the houses. The nine-zero-four indicates she has four and a half more blocks to walk on Ricardo Avenue.

          Walking calms her mind as she ponders the event that brings her to this moment in her life.

The Lady on the Coin

PICTURE OF THE STATUE OF LIBERTY

Writing prompt from a picture

“The lady on the coin,” I repeat the words my grandson said.

“Uh-huh,” he smiles.

The small coin clearly shows Lady Liberty but for him to understand the statues historical size will be hard, since we are nowhere near New York City.

I type in Lady Liberty into the searching line and thousands of images appear on the computer screen.

My grandson immediately is captured by the wonderful sunrise and sunset images of the Lady with the ‘sword’.

I try to explain, in as many words as I can for a three year old, the Lady’s ‘sword’ is her torch, and I quickly find images of the torch and the book she holds. I read from my computer, “the original name of the Statue of Liberty was “Liberty Enlightening the World”. The tablet she holds in her left hand, engraved with “July IV MDCCLXXVI”, (July 4, 1776), represents the Declaration of Independence. The torch upraised in her right hand represents the enlightenment of liberty.

After reading half of Wikipedia’s description of The Statue of Liberty he smiles at me and takes a bite of his peanut butter sandwich, chews the food and takes a drink of water to wash his food down, turns to me and says, “She’s a tall pretty lady in York.”

I agree with him one hundred percent. The statue of Liberty is a tall pretty lady in New York.

My Thoughts of the Day (Beware)

Blogging Challenge #17

Fear. A four letter word that literally scares us. This fear of contracting the COVID 19 Virus has put a spin on world events, and we are still trying to avoid every contact what-so-ever.

People sent home from work, not to return for two to three weeks. (I see the point of this, its controlling contanct with others to prevent more contamination, but what about those that don’t have a choice.

The ones that don’t have the luxury of going to the store and buying pallets of food. People that not only seem to survive on nothing, but make a profession at living on nothing. I’m talking about the homeless, and some of those homeless are drug users that also don’t have the luxury of buying vitamins and food to stay healthy and strong.

If this virus attacks a low immune system, and rests in the respiratory area, then the homeless would be prime targets for this, wouldn’t they? I mean, wouldn’t they? Or, could the homeless be healthier than we are? So many questions are bogging down my mind, and the bottome line is: I don’t want anyone to get the virus. Wanting everyone to be healthy is truly a huge wish, but I do with that.

Oh, and what about the thousands of people that vape. Are they more at risk because of the vaping damage that is on their lungs. I have so many questions, that I think I sound ridiculous, but do I have a point.

How can a person of good health suddenly get the virus, when a person of bad health can walk around without contracting as much as a cold? If they were exposed at the same time, would they both get the virus? Or one of them be strong to fight the virus off. Does vaping really cause lung problems?

It’s not like I’m loosing sleep over this, but man when my mind starts thinking, there’s no stopping. (Maybe because I drove by the small homeless camp near Hageman and Mohawk today and wondered if the homeless people weren’t going to panhandle to prevent the spred of the virus.) I know bad humor. Sorry! but don’t you think of these things too.

I can’t be the only one……

I do wish everyone a healthy outcome from this COVID 19 event. I wish there were enough food and toiletries at the store for everyone as well. I wish we would come together, but all in all I do remember one thing: we are human. And that pretty much answered my ranting questions above.

Thank you all who read my rant.

Stair Step Cactus

Stair step Cactus Blog post ? (lost count)

                My granny has a story for each potted cactus on her porch. The porch is twelve by twenty feet and connects to her small one room mobile home. The mobile home park is a nice community of people that cares about each other.

                During summer vacation, I was allowed to go every Thursday and visit my granny. I loved visiting my granny’s places. She makes cookies, teaches me how to embroider, and after lunch, she would bring out a box of old photos of distant relatives back in Missouri. During my visits my granny would as me to water each cactus with a certain amount of water. “Granny, these are cactus,” I spoke out one hot July afternoon.

                “Yes, Deb, they are cactus, but you need to think about how a plant must be fed to grow.”

                “But granny, they’re cactus,” knowing I truly don’t want to water the cactus. I want to play on the swing set.

                “Yes, and all plants deserve to live and grow,” she smiles as she scoops some potting soil into a pot.

                “But granny, they’re cactus,” I repeat.

                “Yes, cactus they are, and it’s one hundred and eight degrees today. If you water the cactus, you can go play on the swing set.

                I reluctantly do as I’m told. I didn’t want my granny to tan my hide, or tell my mother I am being disrespectful, so I water each cactus and return the watering can to its proper place in a tool shed next to my granny’s home.

                Thinking I have somehow saved the planet from an apocalyptic dry heat, I leap to the grass area by the patio. I miscalculated the distance and my feet slid on the grass, my bottom landed heavily on the large pancake prickly pear cactus. My scream echoes on the patio, and I was expecting my granny to rush out the doors and attend to my awkward wounds. Yeah, concern from my granny, for the awkward wounds, didn’t happen. She called my mom.