Getting Back to Normal, One Step at a Time.

http://weheartit.com/

I am taking baby steps as I get back to blogging.  The A-Z challenge took a lot out of me.  I am just now starting to get back to reading all the folks that I now follow.  I have been looking at the writing prompts from WOE and Trifecta for a couple of weeks now and just cringe at the idea of trying to write anything.

This morning's Today Show, has all sorts of bad news from Washington.  Obama is having a difficult second term, with many scandals that will be his fault, as they came to light under his watch. 

Thorns-WOE & Trifecta

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Softly, slowly, she turns her face

Toward the sun

Dew glistening in her eyes

Her color glowing

As if blushing,

Belies

The scented honey of her words.


Softly, slowly, she turns her face

 Towards me

 Duplicity gleaming in her eyes

 Her pirate smile shines

Warning danger,

Confirms

 The thorns of her embrace.

 

WOE offers us a quotation and a song to Merge.

        The quotation is from Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë:

“It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.”

The song is Elton John's Tiny Dancer

 Third definition.
3: Color; complexion tint:

a: the tint characteristic of good health

b: blush

Forsaken-WOE

http://imgur.com/a/D9iDC

 

The wind blows, scattering the wreckage,

Of a world shattered.

Sand drifts through, to fill the stage,

Left empty of all that mattered.

Allowed to decay,

Forsaken by love,

Abandoned to the elements.

A dwelling place no more,

Dead.

Maelstrom - Write at the Merge

www.fanpop.com 

 I hear the cacophony of disaster
I raise my head to the churning maelstrom
Fear and wind propel me forward
To the descant sound of
The hammering cellar door.

   

This week, one of your offerings is the phrase “cellar door”. “Cellar door” is considered a perfectly euphonic phrase, some say the most beautiful in the English language. Also we could use the word propeller and write at the merge of both those prompts.

99 Problems-WOE Surprise Prompt

She opened an eye and looked around. She had taken a hit to the chest and shoulder, making it a struggle for breath. She tasted the copper of blood in her mouth and swallowed. Taking inventory, she carefully moved each extremity, legs... check, arms…. check, ouch, she seemed to have broken fingers on her right hand. Well that’s a bitch she thought. She pulled herself up to her knees, and her head started to swim. She crawled toward the pile that was once her dresser and looked into the broken mirror, appalled that her left eye was swollen , and the blood she tasted was from a split lip. She dug through the debris that was her bedroom, looking for her cell phone. She thought she might have internal injuries from the damage she sustained. She needed to get to a hospital. She needed be conscious. He might return.

Audience - Trifecta/WOE

Desktopnexus.com

Ariadne awoke to Tilde shaking her vigorously. “Lady, lady, the Duke commands you to join him at court this morning, you must get up!

Still somewhat groggy from her efforts last evening, she gazed around her chamber, hoping for a sign of success. Walking to her balcony window, she stepped back as she realized there was a bustle of activity below. “Tilde, what is going on?

“I'm not sure; riders arrived in the night, and they have been closeted with the Duke, since,” she replied.

Magic Spell \ Write on Edge/Trifecta

Magic Spell-Forever Arts

Feigning a headache; Ariadne sent regrets to Grandfather about missing the evening meal. Dismissing Tilde, she worked alone in her chamber, gathering the elements needed for her spell. The evening is warm, fearing that Grandfather’s allies and cronies might be about the courtyard below, she moved to close the window.

Empowerment-Trifecta- Write on Edge Challenges

July 1st, 2010 by Ed Grabianowski Robot Viking

She is watched constantly and never allowed to wander, since guards noted the broken seal on Mama’s former chambers. They report to the Duke, her grandfather, that nothing appeared to be disturbed. So the secrets of the chest are still hers.

Ariadne lived a marvelous life before these awful times. Growing up she rarely saw the old man. Her life revolved around Mama and Papa’s rooms, courtyard and a tiny bewitching copse of trees surrounding a grassy hillock. Here, she played happily.

Rain on the Window-Write on Edge

http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/

Crack!  Lightening ignites the evening sky.

“1 second, 2 seconds…Wow, that was close,” cries Toni aloud as the thunder rolls.

A second later the power snaps off, leaving her office in the dark. Toni moves from her desk to the window. She watches as rain pours out of the sky, leaving murky rivulets of rainwater on the window.  She sees lights flicker off, all over the low buildings surrounding the nearly empty parking lot.  

Charlotte's Story-Write on Edge

 

Charlotte opening the door of the draper’s shop, stepped out to the High Street.  She had picked out some calico and muslin, intended for new Spring dresses.   Charlotte would copy fashion plates of the latest fashion from London, and created lovely frocks, that were the envy of the neighborhood.
A blustery wind chilled her as she quickly turned onto Church Street.  She collided into the Rev. Stephenson, spilling her packages onto the road.

“Miss Percy, I do beg your pardon,” he declared breathlessly.  Bending to help gather the scattered packages, he continued.  “I’m in such a rush; I have been informed of a serious accident at the steel works. Two carriages, racing, when they struck a wagon coming from the mill, there are surely injuries.“  He smiled bleakly, as he handed her the packages.  “I must go and see if there is anything I can do. “

“Oh my, that is dreadful!”  "Certainly you must be on your way.” She replied.

“Miss Percy, John still works at the steel mill?

“Yes, he is a clerk in the offices.”  “Oh no! You don’t think he could be injured?” She cried.   

The Vicar put his hand gently on her shoulder to comfort her. “I'm sure he's fine, and will be home soon."  

"Have his tea ready and wait with your aunt until he comes.”  He smiled and took his leave.  

Charlotte arrived at the cottage and told her aunt her worries for John’s safety.  Certainly, he would have been in the office and not the yard or the road.  Undoubtedly he couldn’t be among the injured. These concerns swirled through their conversation that afternoon

Aunt Jane had managed to send John to the parish school, where he had thrived under the instruction of the Rev. Stephenson.  A good student, he should have continued his education, but for the money.  Finishing  his schooling, he went to work at the steel mill as a sweeper in the office.  Mr. Spenser, owner of the mill, discovered and encouraged John’s ability with figures.  Charlotte is proud that John is now junior clerk in the accounting room, using his small salary, to help his aunt and sister.

“Surely, he was in the office and not one of the injured,” Charlotte said aloud.  She tried to put away  worries and help Aunt Jane with tea.  Setting the water to boil, she heard a noise.

“John!”

Flinging the door open she again collided with the vicar.  Smiling, he supported Charlotte in his arms and announced, “I brought John, he invited me to tea.  I hope that's convenient.”

I have added a single page for all of Charlotte's Story in the Tab Above to keep track of the story so far in chronological order

This week we were to write about a Collision

 

Like a Phoenix

Well Winter was mild and dry, Spring was mild and dry and Summer has been in triple digits, very dry and hot, both day and night.  What will Fall bring?This summer has been alot hot and humid with no rain or usual thunderstorms. Meteorologist are calling this the hottest, most drought ridden on record. I knew when we moved here, winters would be cold, summers hot and humid and we would always be grateful for Fall and Spring

This week we finally got a break in the heat, it was often 98 or 99 degrees, truly a break by about 10 degrees, from what it had been.  We have been getting up very early to take the poor neglected pups for a walk.  This morning when we got up it was 69 degrees with a breeze.  We left at 7:30 for our walk and it was so mild and lovely, we decided to go to the local park instead of the cemetery.  It is part of the Rails to Trails Conservancy .  It is wonderful, they have taken old and abandoned rail way corridors and turned them into Parks and Trails for everyone to enjoy. Ours is the Frisco Green way between Webb City and Joplin.  Today it was lovely. 

The dogs were stopping to sniff everything along the trail. Totem thought the fallen hedge apples were tennis balls. Since our walk I've been reading them. They are considered a natural pesticide but not poisonous to mammals, I am going to get some and try it out.  I think they would be interesting in arrangements as well. Some of them seemed to have been eaten by wild animals.

Today was a treat.  The weather is to be mild (90's) the rest of the week, with some showers and thunderstorms predicted this weekend.  I am hoping this is a turning point for the summer.  I am sure there will be more hot weather but I hope that Fall will rise from the ashes of Summer and be beautiful.

Destiny- Write on Edge

Olympia by Manet 1863

Competition is what drives her and when there was no one left to compete with, she was desolate.  The halls echoed with stillness, the gymnasiums empty, and the tracks overgrown. Olympia was empty and abandoned. The Gods had disappeared eons ago as disciples dwindled and humans believed no more.  Olympia knew she would not be able to survive without the competition that fed her, and she was desolate.  She rose with some difficulty and despaired, what could she do?  Looking down from on high she saw humankind and wondered, “Did they have what she needed?” She descended from on high to encounter her destiny.

This week we had the choice of three Olympic-inspired prompts. In case you missed them, here they are:
The 100 Meter Sprint
100 words on a conflict, competition, or game.
The Road Race
300 words on a topic of your choice. The only catch? Your setting must be London, Beijing, or Rio de Janeiro.
Synchronized Diving
Partner up with another Write on Edge writer. You each have 450 words to write about a conflict between two characters; each writer should represent a single character’s point of view.

Charlotte's Letter

June 30, 1842

Lemmington, England

Dear Brother,

I have delight in telling you of the birth of our son over last fortnight.  I have recovered well from my confinement and Edward is happy in his boy.  Aunt Jane has been with me since I was brought to bed and announced the child looks just as you did as an infant. We have named him John Edward, after yourself and his father. We look forward to your visit in July, little John looks forward to meeting his favorite Uncle.

Aunt Jane will remain here with us in the parsonage, only to return to Newburn at summer’s end.  Edward and I hope we can persuade her to make her home with us as I worry that her cottage may prove too much a burden in her old age. When you visit, you must urge her to remain with us.

While you continue with us this summer, we hope you can become acquainted with our neighbor Mr. Carbury. He is a fine and amiable neighbor and tradesman in our village. He has recently asked Edward if he might have knowledge, of a person, able to assist him in his carting trade.  Edward was happy to be able to give him your name and knowledge of your clerking and accounting proficiency. Edward trusts, you could be useful to Mr. Carbury and this could be very advantageous to your future prospects.

I wish also, you to become acquainted with the Misses Carbury, his younger sister and his daughter of about the same age. They are gentle young ladies of agreeable disposition whose presence enhances the parsonage on many evenings. I have made them aware of your pleasant countenance, and good manners. Your connection Edward and the parsonage can only recommend you to them and the neighborhood.

I have every reason to be thankful for the Providence that brought Edward and our child to me. The distance I am from my closest relations often makes me uneasy and melancholy. My happiness would be complete if you and Aunt Jane would consider removing to our neighborhood. 

I Am Affectionately

Your Sister,

Charlotte

Our prompt this week Inspired by Angela’s return to longhand, and the more personal, less-distracted feelings she derives from putting pen to paper, your prompt is this:A stand-alone scene, fiction or memoir, in 500 words or less, involving a handwritten letter.

I have written  before about Charlotte Here and Here

Hope-Write on Edge

Write on Edge has been all about Hope this week. This is a prequel to another story Epitaph. I need to figure out a title for this story.

Newburn 1824

Charlotte could not remember a time when she and John did not live in Aunt Jane’s small cottage just outside the gates of Newburn Hall, She and John had been orphaned at the ages of 3 and 4 years old, respectively and Aunt Jane was the only parent they knew.  She did her best for them on the small income she received from an inheritance.  They did not have much growing up; however they were well loved by their dear aunt.

She did remembered when John  was seven, he was sent to the parish day school when it first opened.  She also remembered Aunt Jane trying to soothe her when she cried that she was not allowed to go as well.

"It would not be proper for a little girl to attend school with young boys; we will continue your education here at home.” She smiled and continued, “There are many domestic skills that I can teach you, which will enable you to be a good wife and mother one day.”

Six year old Charlotte pouted, She did not want to be a good wife; she wanted to go to school with John, read books, and travel to London and beyond. She knew that she had no hope of going to school with John, but she would read every book in the circulating library, when she was older, and she would find her way to London and beyond one day.  This was not only her hope, but was a promise she made to herself that day.

Aunt Jane took the mending from Charlotte’s hand that morning, and replaced it with one of her beloved drawing pencils and handed her a small slip of paper from her drawing book. “Let us try a hand at drawing,” said Aunt Jane. “Why don’t you start with a circle?”

According to Dante, the gates of hell are inscribed “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” I challenged you to be inspired by such a warning.

La Vie Nocturne- WRITE ON EDGE

Write on Edge is having us look at anti-heros or antagonist. The way they see it (and not everyone will agree), all villains are anti-heroes, but all anti-heroes are not villains. I have continued this story here.

Jessica met him at the Discotheque Vie Nocturne, when she and the roommates went clubbing in Baton Rouge several weeks ago.  Suzanne liked the club's  dark and gothic design. Elaine giggled that it was supposed to be under vampire ownership. Jessica smiled at Elaine's gullibility. 

The dance floor throbbed with music and light, and they danced the night away.
At 12:30 Jessica returned to their table exhausted and thirsty when she noticed him, looking dark and moody, in the booth next to her.  Their eyes met and his steady gaze unnerved her slightly.

He glided over to her table smiling and introduced himself.  “I am Antoine, I own the club.” 

She was speechless; he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Finally she stuttered, “I’m Jessica.”

Antoine was dressed in black. “Just like a proper vampire,” she mused. His deep green eyes burned into hers and she had to look away.

“Yes." May I get you something fresh to drink?” Startled, she nervously looked around for her friends. Was he saying yes, to her unspoken thought?

“I’ll have ice water and a slice of lemon; I’m the designated driver tonight.” She murmured.

He raised his finger to the server and pointed at her with a brief nod.  “I have never seen you here before, you are not a regular?” He had a slight accent that Jessica couldn’t recognize.

“Yes."  "I am from Slovakia” he answered again, without being asked.  
Jessica looked deep into the emerald eyes and shivered.

“I am just good at reading people,” he smiled. The server brought her water and Antoine continued, “Have you and your friends enjoyed yourselves tonight?”

“Yes, the DJ is great and I’m having a good time,” she answered nervously. “I’m not sure where my roommates are, we really should be getting home soon. It’s quite drive back to New Orleans, this time of night.” Why did I say that, she thought?” “Where are the restrooms?” she asked aloud.

“Let me show you.” He lifted her up by her elbow, and he ushered her between the curtains under the exit sign. The air was thick and scented with jasmine. She thought she would swoon.

“That’s OK,” she said as she tried to wrest her arm from him.  He gazed deeply into her eyes and she felt like she was falling toward a cliff edge.

He pointed to the left. “Second door,” he smiled.

Jessica felt foolish, as she washed her hands.  “He’s lovely and I’m worried he is a vampire.”  "Stupid, stupid roommates. . .”  She returned to the table, where Suzanne and Elaine were waiting. Antoine was at another table talking to a beautiful blond and her date.

 “Hey, I saw you talking to Antoine. What’s he like?”  asked Elaine

“Well he is no vampire, but if he was, it might be worth knowing him, he’s charmingly sinister.” said Jessica, “Let’s go.”

Antoine looked over at her and nodded as they left.

"Yes. I am.”  She heard him whisper. She looked back sharply but he was nowhere to be seen. The night air smelled of jasmine.

RemembeRed

We’re doing something short and sweet for this week’s RemembeRED post.

Imagine your life, or a part of your life, as a title and tagline.
That’s it. Give us the title, and give us the tagline.

The Life and Times of a Moderate

Please Don't think I'm Wishy Washy, I will try to see your Point, but I Won't Argue with You. 

The More I Wish I Knew

Prompt this week was Unfulfilled

A & M Stillwater as Dad may have known it.

I knew what I wanted.  What was my dad’s like as a boy?  I was unfulfilled as he passed away before I could question him completely.  What I knew of him was as a father. I knew that he was accomplished, he went to college at Stillwater, Oklahoma, joined the Marines after college, during WWII. He went to law school on the GI Bill, after he married my mom and raised my little brother and me.

Dad didn’t talk much and when he did he spoke slowly, thinking, on each word, that was a boring to a young kid, so what I have learned about him, his family, my mom, even my husband, who often comes up with information he gleaned from being around him. Now that we have moved to Missouri, I want to hook up more often with my cousins who I have reached out to this Christmas and go to the family reunions, which seem to be less often.  

What I know is he must have been a bit of a rascal.  He didn’t like peas as an adult, because as a kid he ate raw peas until he made himself sick. He was a good looking boy, from the pictures I have seen and he had a girlfriend named Lydia.  He often harassed mom with the song Lydia, the Tattooed Lady. He went to college because he didn’t want to be a farmer. To hear him tell it, to us kids, his youth was not misspent and he was a perfect child. As I grew older I did discover that he would run liquor from Arkansas, back to Stillwater with a frat buddy who had a car. I also learned by asking about a scar on his head, he was kicked out of Marine OCS because of a fight (the guy hit him over the head with a bottle).  Mom always counted it as a blessing as most young men just out of OCs were killed in the Pacific, almost upon arrival. He spent the war in New Found land ferrying Germans to POW camps in Texas. 

So I guess I was not so unfulfilled, but I wish there were more stories told before he died.  Mom is gone since 2002, and she shared what she knew, when I asked.....If only I had asked more.

Dad grew up in Homestead,OK,, stayed in CA after WWII

I had to go to Internet for pictures. Project for 2012 get my family pictures scanned

Write on Edge-Epitaph

Lemmington, England 1840

Charlotte was wandering through the church yard cemetery toward the bench where she often enjoyed sketching the church and parish school where her husband, Edward was vicar.  Edward had mentioned yesterday at tea about an unusual epitaph, so now she zig-zagged through the stones and monuments looking for the grave stone.  She soon found it in the older section of the cemetery, where stones had been up turned, lopsided and weathered.  The dates around it were of the last century.  No name was carved on the stone, only a verse:

Here lies a miser who lived for himself, who cared
for nothing but gathering wealth.

Now where he is and how he fares;
nobody knows and nobody cares

“How wry and pitiable to be known; only as a miserly man. “  She thought aloud. There was a pretty aspect of the parsonage in the distance, so she set about sketching it quickly.  She wanted to get back to the parsonage and show it to Edward, before tea time.

Charlotte and Edward had been married just a short six months. She had met him ten years ago when he first arrived in the village of Newburn as Deacon of the parish.   She was but a child of twelve.  With her parents long dead, she and her brother John resided with their spinster aunt, in a small cottage at the edge of Newburn Hall.   With her tiny income, Aunt Jane was able to teach them to read and enjoy books from the circulating library. She encouraged Charlotte’s drawing and sent John to the Parish Day School for several years.  That was where they made the acquaintance of the young deacon, Edward Stephenson. 

Aunt Jane would often tell them reminiscences of her youth when she and their mother were young ladies of wealth and standing in the neighbourhood, but nothing was said of how they became so impoverished.  However, she was silent on the circumstances of their parent’s marriage and death. One of the stories that neighbours told, was that Aunt Jane and their mother had been at the mercy of a miserly relative who did nothing to put them forward in society, leaving them nothing but the cottage and a tiny inheritance. 

As the years passed, her brother eventually went to work clerking for the Newburn Railway. This supplemented the small income of their aunt and by living carefully, they enjoyed a satisfactory life with a small circle of friends. With no dowry, she had little expectations of making a good marriage.  So everyone was surprised when, after receiving a church living of his own, Edward proposed.

Charlotte now securely ensconced in the parsonage of Holy Saviour Church, Lemmington, seemed unconcerned by the circumstances of her former life.  She opened her book to look again at the sketch before showing Edward her drawing. She observed the gravestone in the forground, thinking it ruined the sketch of her lovely home and began to fill it in with flowers and grasses. 'That is much better," she thought.

For this week, write a fiction or creative non-fiction piece in which an epitaph features prominently. I found mine at The Epitaph Browser.  It is from Lemmington, England. found under Anonymous. I found a Lemington in Northumbria near Newcastle and an appropriate parish in which I set my story.

 

His Office Party

Ok, in 3, 2, 1.”   “ Oh hell, wait, wait!” 

“Ok I’m waiting,"said Suzanne. “Again" she added under her breath.  Checking her watch, “We’ll be late!”

His employees gifts were packed in a Santa sack found at Big Lots, where she also found the matching sweaters, he insisted upon. “It’s an Ugly Christmas Sweater party,” he explained “There will be prizes."

“How Bridget Jones,” she thought. “Forget the dress at Macys!” Last year she underdressed, thanks to Jack. This year she wanted to get it right.

The door opened and he stepped out. “How do I look?" He was wearing a gray cashmere sweater and a Santa hat. 

“What’s that?  You’re not wearing the sweater, the ugly one?” she snapped.

House Cleaning- Metaphorically Speaking

I have been literally cleaning house for the last several months, while getting ready for our move from California to Missouri. I have been metaphorically cleaning house as well. Mr. BC and I have been married for MANY years and have moved many times, usually every two or three years.  Those moves were relatively easy, as happens, when one is moving every few years.  Our moves were fast and compact.  This move differs, in that we have lived in this house for 27 years and moving to his late mother’s home in Missouri.  We went through many of her things with his sister last year; however the house is still furnished with his memories and much of her stuff.

With so many years in the same house, this move and attendant house cleaning, is more difficult.  We have grown from a house and garage, to a house, garage, attic, and storage unit and many junk drawers.  With the detritus of our life, we have outgrown our surroundings.  We have been brutal. When it comes to the garage, Mr. BC is clearly a hoarder. However, in the house, unless it was his belongings, I sorted through things without much consultation with him.  It is still slow going, what with those pesky memories intruding. We truly pared down and only kept the most important and most used of our possessions.  Salvation Army, recycling, yard sales and the dump  gets the rest of the stuff.

All of this sorting and moving has been stressful, tempers have flared, muscles have been pulled and feelings have been hurt. We have had a lot of togetherness since retirement and I am now looking towards cleaning my metaphorical house with some alone time after Christmas.  I am flying back to California to spend time with DD1 before the new baby arrives; and to pack the rest of our belongings. We need the time away, both of us need to remember that we are Fun People!  Mr. BC will join me the first of February to await the birth of our grandson and for the last of the literal house cleaning. We got a house to sell and Fun to Have.

RemembeRed

Think of a time that you “cleaned house.” Consider the subtext—we’re not writing about Windex here. We’re writing about relationships. Or feelings. Or a captured moment in time.