THE SHORT LIST

To-Do? Done!

Quickly list five things you’d like to change in your life. Now, write a post about a day in your life once all five have been crossed off your to-do list.


VeganWitches“What a world, what a world” cried the witch. “I’m melting, melting.” And she melted. Referring back to her previous statement, it is quite a world and certainly could use some adjusting. So, off the top of my early morning head, I’d like to say this about that.

1. Whichever dog is piddling on the rug in the morning, it isn’t going to get you more biscuits, better food, an upgraded position on the sofa, or your own laptop. If we ever find out which one(s) of you are doing it, a good thumping is more likely. Stop it before I catch you because … to quote another movie big shot: “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

2. Our television is 13 years old. It works. But it’s falling behind technologically. If any of you WordPress pixies feel inclined to drop by during the night, take away the huge old one and replace it with a nice, sleek, shiny new one, I would certainly not object.

3. Surely at least one wish grantor at your headquarters is in charge of paving? Because our driveway is a disaster and winter is coming. New asphalt please?

4. Speaking of winter coming and driveways … emphasis on the “drive”  … we could really use some kind of SUV to deal with the bad weather. We can’t afford one, but now that you are so spectacularly successful, maybe you’ve got a spare vehicle lying around you might send our way? Swap you for our 2003 Sunfire. It’s a cute little thing, but useless in the winter. Only has 115,000 miles on it and it’s bright yellow.

5. A general bump in income would be appreciated. We worked hard. Combined, the two of us worked for more than 80 years. It’s sad finding ourselves in such straits. We don’t need to be rich, though we wouldn’t object … but not poor either would be nice. I’d like to have more money than month. A little spare. Some discretionary funds.

Thank you all very much. I’ll be getting back to my coffee now. You want a cup? Have a seat. I’ll go get it.

Oh, and please make sure all those “gifts” are tax-free.

EPILOGUE: The Day After Tomorrow

Monday morning, I will get up and pad out to my living room in my bare feet, I will not step in a cold pool of dog pee. I will turn on my brand-new television which will have much better sharpness and clarity than the current one. I will not have to clean my glasses because things are a bit fuzzy.

I will gaze contentedly out my picture window where my new SUV will be waiting for me on my smoothly paved driveway. All our stuff will be packed because as soon as we finish a quick breakfast, we’re going away for a couple of days … now that we can afford a night or two in a nice bed and breakfast on the Cape.

Thanks for everything. See you in a few days.

THE DOLLS HAVE IT

Soulful Machines — Machines, appliances, and gadgets sometimes feel like they have their own personalities — from quirky cars to dignified food processors. What’s the most “human” machine you own?


I’m looking around me house at the many machines that keep our life running more or less smoothly. I like some better than others. Use some more than others. Some are quirkier, require more coddling and even an occasional good talking to. But soulful?

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Maybe it’s just the mood I’m in this morning … but nothing seems to quite fit the bill. It all seems like plastic and metal and wires today. Except the dolls. They aren’t machines. They are toys, representation of people, mostly young girls. Dressed in pretty outfits. They are souls, I think, in a plastic smiley sort of way. Each a little different from the other.

Dolls and dulcimer

The dolls are everywhere in this house. In every room but the bathrooms and the kitchen. They line shelves, bookcases, any place a dolls might stand and they watch, their sweet faces forever set in a glassy-eyes look of happiness.

BEDROOM SOUTH 10

Not glee. I wouldn’t stand for a gleeful doll. Too “Bride of Chucky” for me. No, my girls — and some Action Figure Guys — are pleased with themselves, but nothing morbid. Nothing frightening. They are my plastic pals. I talk to them and at night, they whisper amongst themselves, making plans for their future.

I can hear them.

BEDROOM SOUTH 14

 

IT’S NOT WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW THAT WILL GET YOU

Hand-Me-Downs – Clothes and toys, recipes and jokes, advice and prejudice: we all have to handle all sorts of hand-me-downs every day. Tell us about some of the meaningful hand-me-downs in your life.


The family

The most important stuff I got handed down to me — other than my DNA, which has turned out to be a mixed bag of goodies — were attitudes. Culture. Habits. Taste. Sayings and a few useful tips.

My mother gave me a love for books, as well as an expensive — nearly lethal — appreciation for the finer things in life. Without, sadly, leaving me the money to afford them. She also left me her far left knee-jerk liberal world view and a saying I have never quite escaped: “For everyone, there’s someone. Even you.”

Thanks mom. You have no idea how much confidence that’s given me.

Dad? Not my favorite person, but he did pass along some good jokes and knowledge of how to tell one without blowing the punchline. He also taught me how to throw a meal together using whatever I have in the fridge. Because knowing “what goes with what” is the most important thing to know when you do a lot of cooking.

He also bequeathed me a firm — grim — determination to be as unlike him as I could be. Plus one great saying: “It’s not what you don’t know that will get you in the end. It’s what you do know that’s wrong.”

A BRONX CHEER FOR THE DAILY POST

Next in Line — A second #RoyalBaby will soon be joining the Windsors in England. Given the choice, would you rather be heir to the throne, or the (probably) off-the-hook sibling?


Are you kidding? Seriously?

Heir to the throne of England. Right. Even in my wildest imaginings, I never so much as posited the proposition of finding myself royal. I would as soon imagine myself a sirloin steak … sooner, really.

raz raspberry snoopy cartoon

Snoopy demonstrates the raspberry.

And what, pray tell, is an off-the-hook-sibling? Is that like a disconnected telephone? Are you trying to sidle up to illegitimacy? Or do you mean one of the family that can’t inherit? If that is what you mean, why don’t you say so?

I feel my self-expression being stifled this morning. So, in an ongoing need to give fuller rein to my feelings (and you would not want me to bottle them up — that’s so unhealthy), I would like to offer you a raspberry. I cannot think of any other way to express how I feel about this prompt.

The “raspberry” — razz or Bronx cheer — is a noise we make with our tongue and lips. It is used when we have run out of words to express how we feel. It speaks for itself. It isn’t a compliment.

Follow these simple instructions:

  1. Place your tongue between your lips.
  2. Blow until you produce a sound like a fart. You may have to practice until you achieve the desired resonance.
  3. You should be able to hear a fully matured raspberry across a moderately large, crowded — even noisy –room.

You’re welcome.

NOTE: What happened to the Weekly Writing Challenge?

I actually got an answer from WordPress (surprise!). Turns out, Weekly Writing Challenge has moved — as of September 1st — to Tuesdays. Which is better because I’m not challenge-ready on Monday.

UNDER THE DOME – IT’S SHRINKING!!

Everyone nearly froze to death on tonight’s episode, but were saved by … something. The besieged citizen’s of Chester’s Mill are facing starvation, but I guess freezing is off the table. Because it warmed up.

It’s like the Perils of Pauline. Every week, another climactic crisis with no explanation. No motive, no reason. Stuff just keeps happening. And apparently will continue to happen. Do they give awards for the most illogical show of the year? If so, Under The Dome is the hands down winner.

Garry looked at me. “What could possibly happen next?” he asked.

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I was laughing so hard I had trouble speaking. “Alligators,” I said. “It’s going to rain alligators. Huge alligators will fall out of the sky and start eating people. But don’t worry, because no one will really die. After that, moose. It’s Maine, so moose will fall out of the sky. The moose will be very confused by this … “

That was when the dome started to shrink and they said there would only be two more episodes this season. Which means they intend to run this show another season. Another year of pointless catastrophes, false climaxes. And miraculous, last minute saves. Everyone will continue to return from the dead.

One more season of weird shit happening. I’m not sure what the point of the show is, but I have to admit, I haven’t had such a good laugh in quite a while.

I think Under The Dome is now officially … (wait for it) … a comedy!

DO YOU COME HERE OFTEN?

Greetings, Stranger 

I’m sitting at a café when a stranger approaches me. He asks my name. “Marilyn,” I answer.

The stranger nods, “I’ve been looking for you.”

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I gaze into his soft, brown eyes “Well,” I reply, with a hint of teasing, “I’ve been looking for you, too. Do you come here often?”

“Not nearly often enough, it would seem,” he says, juggling the bags he’s carrying. He pulls me to my feet and loops an arm through mine. “I think there’s a burger joint over there. I’m hungry. How about you?”

As I rise to my feet, he continues: “You were supposed to meet me by Kohl’s. Where were you?”

I organize my own packages. “I’ll never tell you. You’ll have to kill me first.”

Garry and I go hand in hand through the crowded mall. He says: “I hate shopping this close to Christmas. It’s a madhouse.”

“I know,” I respond, giving his hand a squeeze. “But it’s worth it  … because I get to meet such a handsome stranger.”

LACHRYMOSE

DAILY POST: MOVED TO TEARS — Do movies, songs, or other forms of artistic expression easily make you cry? Tell us about a recent tear-jerking experience!


lachrymose

I’m a total sucker for animal stories. If there’s a dog, a cat, a horse, a dolphin, a whale, a goose … feathered, finned, hoofed, or scaly, I’ll choke up. It doesn’t have to be sad. It can be perfectly happy. I just have a thing for animals.

And small children.

Plus pretty much everything else. Too. Except music doesn’t make me cry. It entrances me, sweeps me away, captures my heart, and disengages my brain. If I listen to classical music while driving, it tries to kill me. But it will not produce tears. I save my over-productive tear ducts for the movies and reruns of Flipper.

I am — to put it succinctly — lachrymose.