Monday, September 26, 2016

So it goes...


There is no end to our struggles.  How about my old super-soft Star Wars tee?  What about those flip flops from Hawaii?

Why do we hold onto those beloved clothes and shoes?

 A beloved favorite from YouTube.


What would you do?


Friday, September 16, 2016

Darkest Hour...

plat2
Ode to a Platitude
Karen growled and muttered an assortment of foul words in her car, driving over speed limit.  Her visit to Mom and Grandma did not provide the affirmation and comfort she had hoped it would.

Bill had packed up his stuff in the night and was gone before she woke up.  Note:  I’m outta here, bitch…and the last word was written in bold letters. Now, Karen needed to share her pain.

They were all in Mom’s kitchen, sipping on peach herbal tea.  Mom was kneading bread, taking loaf after loaf from the oven.  These would go to the homeless shelter.  Grandma was sitting quietly while knitting baby blankets for preemies at the local hospital.

Karen was trying tell of her woes and ask for advice when the litany began.

“You know, honey, the darkest hour is just before the dawn. You’ll do fine.” This one came from Mom.

Such is life,” Grandma added. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!” She dropped a stitch, but caught it time.

Karen turned from one face to the other, listening with disbelief.

“Yes, sweetie. God has a plan for you…you just don’t know it yet!...and then…It is what it isTime heals all wounds…Life doesn’t give you things you can’t handle…It could be worse…It wasn’t meant to be…There are plenty more fish in the sea…Everything happens for a reason..

When Karen’s grandma said “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen”…


Karen leaped to her feet and raced to her car.  She skidded out the driveway, narrowly missed the mailbox.  This found her flying along the freeway with profanity tailing after her.  Her thoughts were not kind.  If she ever heard one more mindless platitude, she would vomit.




'I eliminated all the platitudes and cliche statements, from your mission statement, and I'm left with this blank sheet of paper.'
Source

The italicized and underlined words about are from Wednesday Words, where bloggers can play freely and experiment with the words or prompt. This week's prompts are provided by Margaret Adamson and her friend Sue Blucher.

These words or prompts may be found on Elephant's Child. Go check her site and see how others have run with this idea.

Many thanks to Delores, who created this idea.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Post-Apocalyptic Information as seen by my son


My son, John, with my daughter Mary, and Benjamin in Switzerland



Finding another box to unpack has become routine in this house; then there is a moment of discovery and/or disappointment.  With big sighs or sadness, the box is either unpacked or closed up to be pitched out.  When will  this stop, I ask.  When. Will. This. Stop?

“Ah-Ah.”

This was one of the many strange boxes, hidden in garage rafters, where dust and mites had settled.  Movers followed blind orders and brought this one to here. On the lid were words written in our son’s peculiar handwriting, with his peculiar humor.

“If Zombies or commies or red Chinese attack or Christmas 2013: Break the seals and open.  Open and prepare your body for Thunderdome (That is probably the new law).”

I did open the lid, but all the warnings did not come to fruition. Written upside down (for the unfortunate opener) were directions:

(on one side) “These are for laundry, toruniquets, and needless hangings” with an arrow pointing down.

(next side) “Done cleaning? Make your broom do double duty to kill zombies.” Arrow pointing down.

(Last side) “ Instrumental video

Strangely, contents of the box were missing only the broom, but included two binoculars.  But it did include some awesome knives, which were apparently a present for his father that Christmas.  The method of presentation was clever. 

Our son has grown on to a successful life and career, but has maintained his peculiar sense of humor.



John Kane's Profile Photo
My son with his fiance' Arlette

John (5), Mary (3), Erin (9) in 1984


If I find more photos, I will flood the zone called "Oh, how precious they were and are now!"