#SOCS: Television

This post brought to you by Stream of Conscious Saturday where anything goes! (If you are interested in participating the rules and this weeks prompt can be found here.)

Television. This weeks word made me chuckle a bit. It reminded me of my Daddy. A cantankerous man, he drove my mother up the wall and quite batty with the television. That was the bottom line. Sure, he was a typical man, falling asleep in front of the tube on a Saturday afternoon. Of course, the minute my mother picked up the remote to change it, turn it off, whatever, without even opening an eye, he would, without moving, say to her, “I’m watching that.” It absolutely danced on her last nerve that he was able to do that. Another thing he liked to do was watch about three different channels at a time and flip back and forth during the commercials. She swore it gave her a headache. I mean, I could feel where he was coming from on that one. After all, it was the 80’s. Who liked watching the cheesy commercials then? Am I right? Ah, but I digress… no, really. I did!

What the word ‘television’ reminds me of is the year we moved to an apartment for the summer before I started middle school. We had already spent a horrible year in a little house in Pasadena, Texas, that had indoor/outdoor carpet in the living room and the carpet had motorcycle tire tracks all over it. Yes, another thing that absolutely drove my mother bonkers. We moved from there to this apartment complex on the other side of town. That first day moving in was a torrential downpour as we had to bring out things around from the truck at the back of the building to our apartment in the front. Not only that, for some reason, it must have been frog season, because those hopping things were EVERYWHERE! I remember mom standing at the doorway to our first floor apartment with a broom shooing them back out into the grassy spot in front of our apartment to prevent them from getting in the house. Good times.

The next day was just as rainy. I was sitting on the steps just outside of our door. It was also during the middle of an electrical storm and I was not allowed to play my stereo, video games, or watch television. My books were still packed away so there I sat. Bored. Mom was in the kitchen unpacking the dishes and Dad was doing whatever it is that Dad’s do during an electrical storm, somewhere in the apartment.

It’s important to know that my family had these industrial washing powder barrels that mom kept all kinds of things in. To this day, she still has this same pink barrel that used to have washing powder in it. It stands about four feet tall and is about two feet wide and has these silver sealing bands on the top to close it and seal it up. We also had a 19 inch color television. (At least, I think it was. It may have been bigger than that.) Now, you have to appreciate this thing. It was one of those CRT televisions with the UHF and VHF buttons on it. That fancy clicker button for that orangey color if you were into that sort of thing and, of course the volume button. It also had an antenna built in to the back so it had the two retractable, aluminum arms that poked out of the top center of it and would fold up neatly against the back of the television when moving it from place to place. It was still a behemoth thing and not easy to carry. Well, the television found it’s place atop this pink barrel and, for some reason, the back of the television was the first thing that greeted you upon opening the door to the apartment.

As I was sitting there, bored, and watching the rain, the thunder and lightning was particularly loud. Trying to gauge how close it was, I found myself counting the seconds between flash and boom. However, the last one was different. The flash from the lightning was exceptionally bright. I don’t even remember hearing the thunder, because I heard something else.

ZZZZZAaAaAaAPPPPPPFFFFFFfffff!

It came from inside the apartment. Wide eyed and afraid something horrible had happened, I get up and cautiously open the front door to the apartment. As the door swings into the apartment, I see a stream of smoke coming out of the back of the television. The lightning had zapped the television. My focus turns from the television to my mother, who was still wiping down the dishes and putting them in the cabinet as she was taking them out of the box. Expressionless, she says, while wiping a plate aggressively. “See Doug! I told you not to turn the damn television up. You will never learn will you?” and she turned to put the plate away.

I turn to look at my Dad. Standing as if frozen in time, there he was. In front of the smoking television. His eyes were wide with shock and his arm was reaching out toward the television, inches from the volume knob on the front. His eyes were wide with shock and he stared blankly at the smoking television. In his other hand was his whiskey glass. Filled with a double shot of Jim Beam on the rocks, his favorite, and topped off with Pepsi, the ice in the glass shifted and I was suddenly aware of what had just happened.

I burst out in hysterics. Knee slap laughing to tears, I was laughing so hard, I had to roll around on the floor in front of the open door while dad continued to stand stone still in front of the smoking television.

I can still see the entire scene play out in my mind as if it just happened. After a few minutes and when I begun to catch my breath, Dad just reached down, unplugged the television and said to no one in particular, “I am going to take a nap.” With that, he about faced and walked to the hallway which led to the bedrooms. I think it took at least another five minutes before I was able to catch my composure.

Surprisingly, the television survived. I ended up with it a couple years, a town house, and another house later. I am not sure if they paid to get it fixed or if it still just worked but it was a tough old piece of electronics. They sure don’t make televisions to last like that anymore.

So, yeah. Every time I see the word television, it makes me snork a little bit.

What do YOU think?

#SOCS: Art

This post brought to you by: Stream of Consciousness Saturday 

Linda G. Hills is doing phenomenal work on her block and you should check it out! Lots of interesting reads over there. Without further ado, lets see what Art has to tell us today.

I always check for the prompt on Firdays, so I can mentally prepare my mind and clear it out for the stream to flow by the time I get up in the morning. Before I begin, let me apologize for starting my day a tad later than normal for a Saturday. I have lots of plans for the upcoming year and, this morning, I gave myself permission to NOT work on stuff and just do nothing. Of course to me, nothing involves reading, cleaning, or some other thing that is not ‘work.’ Yeah, I know hard to ‘splain. Ah, but I digress…

A lot of people tend to not see the art that is every day life anymore. Recently, I was looking through our New York City photographs to find a perfect icon for our business decal and happened upon a few that I did not realize were even taken. It was a perfect view of the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. It even had the moon perfectly centered above it. That was art in real life. While I to remember Cal and I taking the time to just look. I also remember how exceedingly cold it was. Ah, tis New York City, yes?

Absolutely. This world today tends to spend more times with their face in a piece of electronics than they do interacting with life and I find that a shame. Because of that, I am cutting this short and I am going to spend the rest of my day doing absolutely nothing. That, my friends, is the art of life!

What do YOU think?

Fighting the Inside Dragons – Book Launch

Interesting read and killer cover art! If not purchasing, feel free to leave a review! As we all know, getting our work in front of more faces always helps!

Pointless Overthinking

A4   We try to make some sense out of this weird brutal world. The problem is that the sense we’re making has the power f*ck us up inside and that’s what really matters. WE are the ones seeing the world so WE are the ones deciding how it is and we can only do it for us. The life we’re living has an unique sense because we’re the ones living it. Two different people can see the same life differently; therefore, what’s inside our head makes the difference.

   I believe that people need to be more aware of how important the inside universe really is so I wrote a book to bring some awareness in this area along with some tools that can help us re-gain the control over our thought process and over our emotions.

   How satisfied are you with your life? If you believe there is…

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The Deep South (Warning: You May Be Offended!)

We have all seen the videos of some white lady berating someone who is not white for existing. I never thought I would see it in real life. That thinking has a lot of fallacy, however. After all, I live in the deep south. Further, I live in one of the least progressive states when it comes to racial equality and segregation of the economic classes. I simply hate going out in public because I hear rich people having loud conversations in public where they talk down about someone who obviously does not sneeze $100 bills when they are sick or are out of place in a store like Home Goods or something. It makes me just want to go trip those people and tell them to get a grip and act like a human instead of a dumb azz.

I was running errands today. We all know I love to get my cardio in and it was an okay day outside. So, I decided to walk. As I came into a parking lot, there was a woman walking into the parking lot at another entrance. As she started to cross the vehicle entrance, she decided to just start walking in the right of way as a car was turning into the shopping center parking lot. As she did, she slowed her pace and this forced the car to stop behind her. As it came to a stop, she began to walk even slower and was in such a spot that there was no way for the car to go around her. In frustration, the person driving the car beeped the horn at her. The woman turned around and began yelling obscenities at the car and, after a few more minutes of this, the car beeped again. This made the lady scream a few more unpopular words in the cars direction and she marched off into the store.

I witnessed all of this as I went into the store and up to the customer service counter. Since I was waiting, I had decided to re-tie my shoes. Just for something to do I guess. As I was finishing one shoe and moving to the other, I heard a familiar voice. This woman had come from the back of the store and up to this man and his wife just screaming at them that they were harassing her and if they blew their horn at her again she was going to call the police as they had no right to blow their horn at her because she has rights. I stopped for a moment and watched. I mean, it was one of those videos in real life! Just, wow. It is really a sad site more so in person. Videos really do these situations no justice.

The more upset the woman became, the louder she got. She kept telling them if they did not shut up and stop talking to her, she would call the police and continued on about the horn and stuff. I mean, it was crazy. The couple tried to explain that she was walking in the middle of the road where the cars drive but the woman was too busy yelling obscenities, threats to call the police and waving her umbrella in such a manner that the man of the couple had to take a couple steps back. Ultimately, the wife pulled the husband back and the woman, who was still threatening to call the cops on them for blowing their horn at her in a threatening manner, started to air her frustrations to another patron in the store. Quite loudly I might add.

As the couple walked by, the wife spoke an embarrassed “hello” to me. I smiled, said hello and return and then looked at her with a straight face and said:

“White people! I swear!”

We all know I am not a minority here, neither was the lady with the umbrella. The couple? They were black. See how that all went down now? Well, the wife certainly stopped on a dime when I completed my statement. From my spot, putting the last knot in my shoes, I stood up and looked at her and apologized for that womans’ behavior because not all white people act like that and she was making me look bad. Gratefully, the wife looked at me and said thank you. She went on to say that I didn’t have to, but it was just that some people are crazy. I conceded. They really are.

What it boils down to is that there are ways in which certain people were raised that cause them to dislike people who are not like them. There are also things that people want to blindly believe that make them think that treating another human as something less than human is okay. Yes, this country has come a long way from what it was 200 years ago. However, as humans, this country and many others, still have a long way to go.

Philosophers chalk it up to the whole good cannot exist without evil argument. Politicians call it socioeconomic class struggles. The uninformed will call it a race thing. Still others, who are clueless remain sheep and tend to blindly follow what the masses are doing, or at least what their immediate masses are doing. Tis a shame. Maybe we should have a degree so that we can differentiate who the real humans are and who those hate-filled, for no good reason, people are and everyone can learn to get along and breathe the same air together.

DISCLAIMER BELOW:

I am not going to end this post as I normally do. Just know that if there is anything that is even remotely alluding to something derogatory or talking down or ugly to someone else who airs their valid opinion, it will be reported and removed. While I welcome discussion, I don’t welcome arguments and hate speech. Calling names is just as childish as umbrella lady and, as humans (and adults) there is a way to have a difference of opinion and a healthy discussion.

Now, please comment and discuss. I do want to hear your opinions.

#SOCS: Suppose that Sap Sipped, No, Sopped Up His Supper That Fateful September Day

There it is. My job here is done! Before we begin, know that this sappy post was brought to you by↓↓↓

https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/38812713/posts/12181

A fun little way to spend a morning writing about whatever comes to mind, especially after fighting a supposedly epic battle with a dying phone charger just to ensure your son won’t oversleep and make it to work late. OR, while sipping your coffee while morphing into a human and you have a sever distaste for TV. Gotta love being a homoSAPien!

Ah, but I digress, or did I? This is supposed to be whatever comes to mind, right? Oh, I think this would be a grand idea for the month of September. Think about it. At least once every month, choose the first three letters of the month and change the vowel in them and try to use all of them in a stream of nothing while talking about anything and everything. Wow, what a super idea, don’t you think? Maybe. I should look into that and try it on one of my other pages. Makes for interesting writing and mind exercise. Thanks Linda G Hill! Let me take a sip because it is before sunrise and coffee time…

Okay so here we go. I am going to try a paragraph for each one. Hehehe!

Deep in the Sapphire Forest, some saplings were growing that did not seem to belong. They were not your ordinary growth in this special place and it seemed as if they were growing in a haze. Come to find out, the trees were special trees. These trees were saponifying trees. These special trees grow in a haze that is often reminiscent of being in a hot shower. They do this because it helps you identify them when you need soap as that is exactly what they are used for! Not often found in the wild, these trees, often called soapsaps are used to make the worlds soap. Further, they are mysterious in that the scent from each tree is not like the next. It can be rose, lavender, or any other magical scents associated with soap.

The sky was sepia as she walked along the lonely, country road. Her mother is dying. she had become septic after being diagnosed with some illness. It is so bad that she may not come out of it. What a terrible way to start the first of September. Ah, but mother lived a good life. The last living sibling of one of the first sets of septuplets in this country. Her mother was ready and the family had been preparing for this for some time. Death is just not fair.

He sipped his tea while standing lookout for the police. His buddies were in the garage siphoning gas out of the remaining cars. “Hey! Make sure that shit doesn’t sipe into the rug under that Pontiac! They will know!” he yelled over his shoulder. This whole zombie apocalypse thing has turned even the best of the remaining uninfected into humans. He just couldn’t stand to be stealing just to survive.

The kids loved going to the restaurant where they served never ending bowls of sopaipillas. She loved to watch them sop up the honey on their plates with sticky fingers and grins. This had to be, quite possibly, the best invention ever. After all, these tasty pieces of fried dough are a wonderful treat. Another thing that was a treat for the kids, was that they had shows in different rooms of the building. It was a rather large place. One of the new shows was some pirate thing. At the end of the short set, a pirate falls into the ‘sea’ and, with a great splash, soaks the kids near the front row. After seeing the show, my four year old daughter comes running into the dining area where I was sitting and sopping wet, she exclaims “Sophomore the Pirate got us wet!” The room erupted in laughter.

That was a supreme supper he told his wife as he pushed back from the table. If you will excuse me I have to call the supplier of the plant and speak to the supervisor as you know my work supersedes any extra curricular activities. As he got up and chicken kissed his wife on the forehead, she sighed heavily. This was supposed to be a family evening. He was always running off to work and this was a super disappointment. However, he does work that hard to allow her to do whatever she wants. Sadly, she has to be supportive of that.

BONUS! (syp)

That syphiloid colony must be destroyed! Yelled General Sap as he reached across the table to make his point. Lieutenant Sep sat there, stone faced and unmoving as he listened to the General berate him over failing the mission. Not wanting to be insubordinate, he also had a loyalty to the CIA. You see, his informant Sip was still in the colony. While it was not clear if he was infected, the Lieutenant wanted to give his CI a chance to get out of there before they eradicate that place from the map. Making a choice, the Lieutenant stood up and told the General, “I am full on aware of the SOP, sir. I know the standard operating procedures” and with a stone face, he turned and left the room. Later that evening he reached out to Private Sup and sent him on a possible death mission to rescue the Lieutenants friend from the doomed colony.

Well, there it is folks! What do YOU think?

Mollie: The Epitome of Thug Life

As I sit here on the couch forking out this blurb, our little 8.8 pound, itty bitty princess Chihuahua Mollie is snuggled up next to me doing her shift as the Writing Snoopervisor. I took the boy dogs for a walk this afternoon and it occurred to me that Mollie, aka the Shadow Stalker is the epitome of what we like to call the Thug Life if I had ever seen it before. Sure, you always see those animal memes where a dog does some random bad azz thing and then they get the pixelated, Minecraft like shades and cigarette with the label “Thug Life.” I imagine if Mollie could English verbally, she would likely say to me, “I don’t need no dayum label. I AM THUG LIFE!”

Don’t get it twisted, however, Mollie is a prancing little thing and bops around the house when she is in a good mood and refuses to sit on the couch. Nope. Mollie is a lap dog. Whenever someone sits still on the floor or lays down on the floor to do yoga, Pilates, or just stretch out and read, she is on their back like she is Queen of all that is hooman. Right down to sticking her tiny shout in the air like she is all regal or something. It really is cute for a little dog but, as I alluded before, Mollie has a dark side.

We don’t call her the Shadow Stalker for nothing. Her past times are sitting in a dark corner and watching. Most of the time it is people watching. Trying to see what the hoomans are up to and going to do next. If she ever feels the need for a snuggle or a paw shake, she will come out and let you know. Further, if there is a knock on the door, she is all tough with her chest out and barking. As soon as someone goes to open the door to let the visitor in, Mollie seems to vanish. No worries, though. She is not far away. She is simply hiding under something because, if you don’t live here, she is going to be all over you like a fly on stink and she will shred you worse then a shredder does paper.

Another reason that I know Mollie is living the Thug Life is because, when she hangs with the guys, she is one of the guys. How do I know this you say? Well, let me tell ya. As you know, when I say hanging with the guys, I mean, of course. Luchador and Courage. When we take the three of them together for a walk, the fellas, of course, are marking everything they can hike a leg up on. Mollie does her usual prancing down the sidewalk. However, any time we come near a spot that is a place known to have other dogs, she won’t do the whole squat and pee like girl dogs do. Oh, no. Home girl has to march her little self right up to the post and hike a leg just like the guys do. Then, she will scratch some dirt on it with her hind legs, for good measure. The part that kills me is this: if she catches you looking at her. She will snort like, “Hell yeah! I did that! What are you gonna do about it?” She will just stand there all tough looking, un-moving until you turn around and continue the walk.

Another thing that she does is she watches Roxie the Elder non-stop. She watcher with this “I wish a blitch WOULD!” stare. If Roxie makes one wrong move, it’s a dog fight that goes all over the room. I cannot tell you how many times the two of them tore up the office fighting. It’s maddening!

Yeah. Mollie is living the Thug Life. She is also living her best life! But, like most chicks. She is also a lady and acts accordingly. I imagine a fitting theme song would be My Chick Bad by Ludacris, featuring Nikki Minaj.

Yes, I can see her going down the street and that is her song. Mollie: the epitome of Thug Life.

What do YOU think?

Keeping Me On Task

On the first day back to work of the new year, I decided to sit down at my desk and get everything going before I made coffee. This is extraordinarily out of routine for me. I just thought I would give it a try. Leave it to Team Snoopervisor to tell me something was not right about my morning and ensure that I did not have a horrible squirrel moment and forget that I was sans coffee for the day.

Cal says it is because I have created monsters and that they have the need for their barkachinos just as much as I need my caffeine to function for the better part of the day. Okay, I concede to that. Maybe I did. But hey, they are Team Snoopervisor and they are making sure the job gets done right? So here is how it went down. I seriously thought I was going to get a “bark up” if I didn’t get my fanny into the kitchen and finish our morning before-work routine! It all started with a gentle nudge.

Being the youngest, Courage is, for some reason, quick to let me know that something isn’t right. I wish he could talk sometimes, because I misunderstand the message. A lot. He is the only one tall enough to interrupt my progress on the keyboard to the point where I have no choice to address him and attempt to figure out what is gong on. As I began to find a groove for my morning tasks, and just about two minutes after I had clocked in. He did his signature paws on the arm of the chair and waving at me. I paused and patted his head and rubbed his belly for a moment as that is normally what that is all about. Now, had this been a normal thing, he would have been satisfied in the moment and dropped to the floor to walk away. Not this time. He stood there, on his hind legs (something he is very good at) and looked at me with that “No, that’s not it silly!” look on his face. I figured if I ignored him, he would go away. At least until potty time.

Nope.

He waved again. Finding that didn’t work, he gently put his paw on my keyboard tray. Let me digress here and give a little story about this dayumned keyboard tray. Each day before school, it must be a cult thing where the children have to come into the office, and interrupt the Fur Executive Meeting going on under the desk. When these lovely children do, they make every attempt to come out from under the desk safely, but it never fails. They HAVE to hit their heads on the keyboard tray. As this has been done repeatedly, said keyboard tray will literally just give up if you press down too hard upon it. Ah, but I digress … (I said I was gonna, didn’t I?)

Courage puts his paw, gently (because he knows I will flip out if it isn’t… wait, no. The tray will.) on the keyboard tray. I stop what I am doing long enough to reach beside the mouse and remove it. Nope not going to work. He does it again and this time, he reaches forward with his nose and lifts up my hand as if to say, “STOP!” That is exactly what I do. I stop and look at him. “What is it?” I retort. Of course he looks at me expectantly. Another pat. Another brief belly rub. Back to work. This time he snorts at me and then more aggressively lifts my hand off the keys with his face. This time, I stop and turn my chair.

Excitedly, he runs for the door and stops just inside the door frame. “Come on! You forgot sumpthin!” His expectant face tells me. Now, being this is still B.C. (Before Coffee) and my mind is not comprehending dog-speak, I still don’t get it. I tell you, my brain literally works on one track and is severely disabled in the multi-tasking department without that morning dose of caffeine and I think he knew it. This pooch literally grunted under his breath in exasperation as I turned back to what I was doing. I was full on aware they had water and food and they had just come in about 20 minutes ago from their morning potty run. There was nothing in the house to be alerted to and I could not, for the life of me, figure out what it was other than he wanted to play or something and my brain said he should know better than to ask for that at this time of day, with me sitting in my chair. He ran back to me and after putting his paws back on the chair, he pushed in the keyboard tray with that same, insistent paw.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll see what you want!” I do the Lassie thing and follow him out of the office. He directly goes to the kitchen and sits next to the end of the counter and looks up longingly at the coffee pot.

Oh.

(Since you won’t know the significance of that quote, lemme tell you. John Wick- What Viggo said when he called the shop guy Arello to ask him why he struck Viggo’s son, and Arello told him he killed John Wick’s dog. Viggo says, “Oh” and hangs up because John Wick is a bad ass!)

I go about making the coffee and the barkachinos and suddenly, there were rainbows and unicorns everywhere and all was well with the world. I was also a tad more productive after B.C. and that made things better. Courage is really doing his job. Keeping me on task. I also did not get a bark up. ‘The look’ was enough for me. Go #TeamSnoopervisor

What do YOU think?

When I am sick, I have to do it right!

I was just thinking about all the times I was ill throughout my life. What a story. Lemme see if I can form a timeline of sorts for you. When I am sick, I have to do it right!

As a small child, I was allergic to Suave shampoo and the way we found out was I broke out in big old red whelps on my scalp that were apparently uncomfortable. I have a picture somewhere with my hippie looking mother on one of those rotary dial phones calling the doctors or something. This is one I don’t remember much. I was about two I guess. Ad I progressed through elementary school, every other year, my tonsils would swell to the size of Venus and always after several doctor visits, my mother would always threaten to have them removed. Then, the year we left Seattle, and I entered the fourth grade, it all stopped.

The next few years I remember taking a vitamin daily (well, I did before that too but…yeah.) if someone had chicken pox, mom wanted to go see them. If the had mumps, she felt the need to drag me there too. Flu?? Who needs a shot, let’s take them some soup! I never got sick from anything. However, I got my first round of stitches in my face for jumping on the bed. Strange enough, there were no stitches for getting hit upside the head with a bag of rocks over a dime.

Moving forward, I wasn’t sick or anything again until I was about 14. Pneumonia, and my first ambulance ride. Horrid pain. Like I was being stabbed in the lung. The following summer was sunburn accompanied with a drugstore of meds and creams and one inch blisters on my feet and shoulders. Never should have locked myself out of the house, huh?

That was followed the next year by the busted ear drum. Just woke up and there was a bloody pillow case. Talking aloud to myself was more like screaming in my own ear. Not long after, I was fortunate to have Scarlet Fever and missed two solid weeks of school. While it was nothing more than strep with a rash, the rash was nasty looking. I wasn’t contagious but I truly looked like I had the plague.

The next couple of years brought several broken toes, one three times. Never run at the pool they say. For good reason (jumping on the bed goes with that too, oh and running on painted pavement.) I also had stitches several times. Twice more on my face because the ground really wanted to be my friend. Seriously.

Sprinkle in two or three bad car accidents along with the stomach death bug a few years ago.

Not a bad run, I say. At least, when I do it, do it right. Am I right?

What do YOU think?

Seven Reasons Crying Sucks

Had to reshape this one!!! Hahaha.

HarsH ReaLiTy

Everyone always says “look at how beautiful they are with those tears in their eyes.” Crying isn’t beautiful and here’s why.

1 – Crying is painful. Like a stinging pain… anyone that isn’t grimacing in pain from a pooling collection of tears probably has a plastic face. Now, is that still beautiful?

2 – Tears have a close second cousin called snot rocket and they race to the finish line.

3 – When you cry, I cry. Then we are all crying and a room full of people crying is probably the most unpleasant cacophonous sound in the world. Torture some may call it.

4 – You’d never know it, but somehow all my bodily fluids are contained in those tiny little tear drops because I am drained and parched after crying. I hate being thirsty.

5 – Anytime your face twists up into angles it wasn’t meant to go…

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#SoCS Tin Can

https://lindaghill.files.wordpress.com/2018/08/stream-of-consciousness-saturday-2018-19.png

This post is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday.

The initial post reminded me of the whole tin cans on a string. My Father used to giggle at playing that with me when I was a little girl. I mean really little. Like four or five. I wish I had a line out to him right now. It would go straight up to heaven. I don’t know why but I have bee reflecting on his time with me on Earth a lot lately. It’s almost as if he is trying to tell me something and I haven’t figured it out yet. I wonder what he would actually say when he lifted his tin can to speak to me? Hmm.🤔

Today, I hope will be a great day. It is Cals birthday and I wished him a happy one just a few moments ago. Kind of ironic that I am up “late” and he is snoozing. Oh well. That is what being a Miles is all about, I guess. Going against the norms. Haha.

I plan on starting my resolution early and wrote a short story to submit to a weekly contest. I feel my musings are quite mediocre so I don’t expect to get it into the final round but it is a challenge I enjoyed the last time I tried and figured it will help me become a better writer by trying things like that. Any wins or final rounds will be a pleasant surprise and something I can put in an author bio. I would definitely tell Daddy that when it was my turn to talk to him in the can. He was my toughest critic the first time I tried to write a story on my own. Made me cry even. Ah but it keeps me motivated eh?

So, my usual disclaimer here. Apologies typos and missed punctuation here. Doing this on a tiny four inch screen sans my trusty glasses makes for a challenge all its own.

What do YOU think???

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