Sister to Sister

16 October 2014

Dear Martha,

Your letter pulled me from a pit of despair.  If ever there were awards for "Surviving Multiple Plethora of Childhood Illnesses", I would be inducted into the Hall of Matriarchal Fame.

The triplets have developed a chain of cursed plagues:  Influenza, chicken pox (despite the vaccine), strep throat, ear infections, and worms (?).

Is this God's thunderbolt of retribution for swearing during Mass?  Loudly swearing at Clarisse-the-She-Devil, the mistress-of-insubordination?

As you know, my house was never a museum, but now a City Inspector would cover the house with "Condemned" yellow tape.

Must go. Alex-the-Spontaneous is vomiting on the cat. Christopher-the-Wild-Child is smearing the vomit on the bathroom mirror.

Your sister,

Mary-the-Desperate 

Source: Wikipedia

Underline italicized are the Wed. Words from 2014

Jim Phelps: IMF or IEP? NEA or FBI? NHS or CVS? DMV or PHS?

 

Jim Phelps with his best friends

 

The slamming cargo hold door jolted Jim Phelps awake.  In moments, darkness enveloped him. Dumped again. 

Damn! This is so classic.  That IMF  have screwed me over for the last time!  Apparently the IMF had always had no patience with the slightest infractions.  He refused to remember the shady deals he had made over the years FOR the IMF. 

 Comes in solid colors as well!!

 

Rays of light cut through large rusted metal hole in the corner. Opening a crate of Speedos , Jim formed a chain of the colorful swimwear and retrieved his “Grappling hook in minutes!” from his secret spy tool belt. Having won First Prize in Grappling Hook Throw at the annual "IMF Olympics", Jim was up and over like a flash.
 

Jim disappeared in the dark, making his way home to his classy house.

 

Escaping and surviving was his existence. Jim Phelps opened the garage to view his ever-faithful blue convertible with white leather interior.’ He slid in behind the wheel.

...with white leather interior and robin egg blue exterior...

 

As he revved up the powerful engine, his silver hair gleamed in the sunlight.  He chuckled in a wry way, Tomorrow let’s just see if the CIA has any job openings...

He drove off into the sunset, a man on a mission…a mission only he and his team could appreciate.

Note: Mission Impossible was a risk for Desilu Productions.  It paid off.

The underlined bold words were a gift from Delores, who created the Wednesday Words challenge.  This use of the words was from August, 2014.

Some words are a stretch:  Speedos? Fun to play with.

Yuma, gotta love it.

 

Staring into the light was the onset of despair.  Rolling dunes as far as could be seen robbed her of balance and Sheila fell, tumbling and rolling hard.  Get up, I must keep moving, she muttered as she stumbled to an outcropping of rounded stones and palm trees. 

Sunstroke was a distinct possibility in this heat, driving her to find rest in the shade. There was a drink, a green icy drink, within her grasp. 

 

Source

Sheila reached out to it, finding it to be an illusion. Yuma is not all the holiday place advertised. She kept crawling to toward the sound of happy people.  Were they really happy? Were they even there?  How the hell do I get outta here?

 

No disrespect is meant to Yuma, AZ.  Yuma is set among beautiful scenery.  When we drove through Yuma long ago, it was 115 degrees F. at 8 AM.

This was a post of 2014. The underlined words are from Wednesday Words created by Delores from Under the Porch Light. She passed the baton to other bloggers,  River and Elephant's Child.  There is some good writing at those sites.  Check them out.

 I had surgery on the right hand, and it is slow healing. I had 1st session of P/T. It will not be fun. 

  I can hunt and peck, so I can answer some posts.  Yay!

Nana visits Samuel

 

Wikipedia

Samuel stared through the bars of the playpen as he groaned at just another incarceration.  What had he done?  Just the usual stuff, but this time?  

First, he had coughed up a ball of green-yellow phlegm, and spit it on a really old carpet beyond the bars, one that had been in great-grandma's house.  Heh, heh, heh. Then, Samuel had been charged with screaming loudly, marking graffiti on public walls in a diaper medium, and randomly destroying stuff. Good times.

But last one? It was epic.  With just a plastic knife, Samuel had repeatedly stabbed the arm of the couch, tossing foam and stuffing wherever they fell.  It did not end well. 

It was a reach for him, Samuel realized.  "Keep it simple" he reminded himself. Next time.

Samuel then realized that his diaper was beyond damp, and had begun  dripping.  With strong lungs only a two year-old toddler possesses, Samuel cried and sobbed. Mommy, mommy!  Sometimes being one who is not-yet-potty-trained is a blessing.  

A lot is forgiven when a diaper is full. 

This a post from 2014, using words from Wednesday Words. As always, great fun was had by all.