tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50902483870917854062024-03-28T23:29:57.758-04:00Postcards From the Bookstorelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.comBlogger304125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-28402724038762810302024-03-20T19:38:00.001-04:002024-03-20T19:47:20.331-04:00Fiction: Bank Robbers and Invisible Guardians<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s900/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="900" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s16000/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" width="550" /></a></div><p>This month's <b>Words for Wednesday </b>prompts are provided by <b><a href="https://river-driftingthroughlife.blogspot.com/2024/03/words-for-wednesday_0827078994.html">River and hosted at her blog here.</a></b> This week's prompts are: <i>off the beaten track, cheeky old fella's goin' fishin', bouquet, marketing, cape, crease. </i>I didn't use <i>cheeky old fella's goin' fishin'</i> and<i> crease.</i> I had used <i>crease </i>and then edited it out and then forgot to put it back in. <i><br /></i></p><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Fiction: Bank Robbers and Invisible Guardians</span></b><br />At 7:45 am, Austin Jane entered into Second Moon Bank's parking lot. It was a sunny, cloudless Sunday morning with a cold wind weaving through the air. Austin shivered as he closed the car windows. It was his habit to drive with the windows down. Even in freezing February, he couldn't resist the wind in his face. <br /> As Austin pulled into the space between a van and a truck, he thought about robbing the bank. It would be an easy job. Bank Manager Keith was too cheap to hire more guards and the few cameras were installed back in the 1990's and were never upgraded. Most of the locks on the doors could be picked with a credit card. Austin sighed and got out of his beat-up Buick. His left knee ached but he ignored it. He didn't want to rob a bank. He was just an old fella who lived a simple life and yet, why did the landlord complicate things and raised his rent by 200%? The cheek of that brat. Yet, Austin knew he could not alter anything by robbing a bank. But he would ask Keith for a raise. There was a 99% certainty Keith would say no but Austin still wanted to try the 1%. In ten months, it would be his twentieth year working at Second Moon Bank. He might just retire then.<a name='more'></a><br /> Inside the three-story building, it was hot and stuffy. Keith insisted on keeping the heat high during the cold season as if that would lure patrons to their bank. Austin walked passed the large cut-out of a cartoon martian with his red cape flapping behind him while he held out a shiny toaster. The bank's new marketing was: <i>open a checking account and get a toaster, just like the good old days</i>. Keith thought it up and he was so proud of himself that he gave himself a raise. <br /> Austin typed in the four digital number and entered the door marked <i>Bank Employees Onl</i>y. He put his lunch in the fridge, went to his locker, pulled off his coat and put on his suit jacket. Before closing the locker door, he took a sniff of the faded bouquet of lilacs hanging against it. He went out and stood behind his usual teller window. Keith had removed the chairs thinking his employees would be more alert but instead, being on their feet all day made them more tired. <br /> It was Sunday but still, plenty of patrons came. Soon, there was a line at Austin's window. After lunch, there was a lull. Austin grew sleepy. He didn't have a good night sleep since the raised rent. But one shift in his leg and the pain in his left knee woke him. He should have noted the quietness of the place or that the two security guards were lying on the floor or that everyone was on their knees in the center of the bank. When he blinked and tried to clear his mind, a bullet went through the glass but it got struck there. Knowing Keith, he had probably chose the cheapest bullet-proofed glass. Austin watched the bullet teetered slightly and then it dropped onto the book he had been reading, <i>Off the beaten track: Travels after retirement for dummies. </i><br /> "I said get out here!" shouted the robber wearing a baseball jacket. He held two sacks in one hand and a gun in the other. His face was covered by a black ski mask.<br /> Austin got out behind the window and out toward the center of the bank where patrons and employees were kneeling.<br /> The other robber, wearing a denim Jacket, was by the front entrance doors.<br /> "Get down on the floor!" Baseball Jacket shouted while keeping the gun pointed at Austin.<br /> Austin started to kneel but jerked upright as pain shot through his left leg. "I had knee surgery last week. I can't bend my knee all the way until next week."<br /> "Will you get down!" whispered Keith near Austin.<br /> "I said, <i>Get down!</i>" repeated Baseball Jacket.<br /> "You moron! It doesn't matter!" said Denim Jacket. "Just let him stand!" <br /> "Don't call me moron, moron! It's the principle of the thing!" said Baseball Jacket. He waved his gun at Austin. "Get on your kneels or I'll shoot."<br /> "I tell you, it's impossible!" said Austin. <i>What the hell is wrong with the guy?</i> thought Austin.<br /><span> </span>"What the hell is wrong with you?" said Denim Jacket as he came close to the other robber. "Come on, let's go! The car's here!" Both of the robbers' had large dark eyes and thin lips. Must be brothers, thought Austin. They really ought to use ski masks that showed only the eyes - much harder to be identified. <br /> "We're not leaving until this guy kneels." Baseball Jacket pressed the gun at Austin's head. "Get down or I'll blow your head off!"<br /> "I said<i> let's go</i>! Guy's not going to wait much longer. Now come on!" shouted Denim Jacket. He was standing by the doors again.<br /> "But he must kneel. It's how it should be done," said Baseball Jacket.<br /> "Let's go, moron!" said Denim Jacket. Baseball Jacket walked over to Denim Jacket. The two shouted at each other for a bit. Then Baseball Jacket shot Denim Jacket in the arm. Denim Jacket dropped his sacks. "You shot me?"<br /> Baseball Jacket laughed. "That's what you get for calling me a moron."<br /> Denim Jacket aimed at Baseball Jacket but Baseball Jacket ran. Denim Jacket rushed after him. Everyone started scrambling and shouting. Austin looked for a safe spot to hide but there were too many movements and the brothers weren't exactly good shooters but they were moving around so much that no place was safe. A few people got their stray bullets.<br /> Austin suddenly noticed a scent very close. The musky cologne, like the scent of dead mules, was unmistakable Keith. "Keith, what the hell are you doing?"<br /> "What do you think, Jane? You seemed to have an aversion to bullets so I'm protecting myself by staying behind you," Keith replied.<br /> <i>The jerk!</i> But it was true, every time Austin thought he was going to get shot, he didn't but he didn't want to be anyone's bulletproof vest. He tried to loosen Keith's grips around his waist but it was futile, as if Keith had grew to have the strength of a hundred. "Get your hands off me!"<br /> "No. I have a family and you— don't." Keith's breath blew on the hair on Austin neck. Austin did mind being a bachelor but he would never want to be in Keith's place. The way Keith talked, you would think he loved his family but everyone knew he wasn't kind to his wife or children.<br /> Denim Jacket and Baseball Jacket were still at it. Austin tried to loosen Keith's arm again but couldn't so he moved toward a corner wall and Keith moved with him. Suddenly Denim Jacket was pointing his gun Austin's way. Austin shifted to his left, balled his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes shut. Shots were fired. Shoutings and screams kept on. Then there was silence.<br /> Austin opened his eyes. A bullet fell by his shoes, followed by a few more. The bank was almost empty with a few wounded here and there. Both brothers were on the floor and unmoving. <br /> "Let go!" Austin shouted. He turned his head slightly behind him. <br /> Keith groaned. He loosened his hands around Austin's waist. Austin turned around. Keith's right shoulder was soaked with blood. "You're not bulletproofed. I've been shot," he said and slumped to the floor.<br /> Austin looked around and found a chair, set it upright and sank down into it. His left leg was aching like hell. Later, he would regret going to work on a Sunday. It wasn't worth the extra pay nor the promised promotion from Keith. Anyone would be foolish to believe anything Keith said. But Austin was through with Keith, with the bank and with the whole thing. No more work on Sundays and no more work.<br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br /><br />The guardian sighed and sank down on her own cloud chair. Why was it exhausting protecting an old fella who did nothing but work and sleep? <br /> But Angela had to do her job or else she would be reassigned to watching brats. Those weren't fun as they tend to do more dangerous and stupid things. At least, this Austin fella was careful even if his luck kept straying him toward danger. That first five bank robberies were much easier. Angela was able to use chairs and all kind of furniture to kept Austin from getting hurt. The sixth one was going well until one of the bank robbers set the place on fire. In his haste to run out of the building, dumbass Keith pushed Austin aside and caused him to hit one of the shiny queue barrier post and broke his kneecap. Angela was too late to stop his fall. She had sleepless nights about that.<br /> This last one was brutal. Two idiots, who, not only did not know how to aim, but were moronic enough to shoot each other while dozens of people were about. Angela had to stand in front of Austin and took the shots. She didn't get hurt of course but it took a lot of her energy to block the bullets but one did get past and hit that dumbass of a manager. Angela would probably get scolded for that but it wasn't her fault. Not entirely.<br /> Often, Angela had wished Austin would move somewhere without banks or morons with guns or bank managers who didn't use his employees as bulletproof vests but Angela had no say where Austin lived or how he lived. Her job was to protect him until his final day. Angela smiled. The Austin fella wasn't ambitious but he was kind. Angela would have given Keith a bloody nose and forced him to let go. <br /> But there was good news. Austin was moving to a smaller home with lower rent and cutting his hours at the bank. That should make it easier for Angela, at least, until the next robbery. But now that Austin had decided to quit his job when the year is done, Angela believed her time will be even easier after that.<br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-86109326911420205652024-03-16T10:04:00.000-04:002024-03-16T10:04:26.351-04:00Retro Minute #18: Some thoughts on blogging <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the eighteenth and last post for this celebration. This is a somewhat fun look back at all the great posts I have done and the not-so-great ones. Going through them, it kind of make me think my creative years of blogging might be behind me but I don't care, I'll keep blogging anyway because it's either a blog or social media and I don't much care for social media. I just like to be present on the web and not care if I'm putting out crappy posts. Well, I do care a little and that's why there's such things as the <i>revert to draft </i>and the <i>delete</i> (<i>discard</i> in case of Blogger) options. None of us have to leave permanent marks on the web unless some weirdo save our posts somehow and put it out on the web. <b>Thank you, readers, for visiting, commenting and just being around.</b><br /><span> </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtcZLU1hARVN_ZBj0PKCtH_q9it8T1SmI11AaCk9vHJdLPab838GKkkijBHjAnO6I_JxATqnu842eUM5wSxIKr2Li9JxaKqix2pLH5Iuez-A-hUrlDfJEv4QEgkyDtAD344QHhWtpgBtIJfRLf-w0iQxxSgqx-JVzuhr328RYfvi91cyjL4s4OjCLx/s900/rainswept_hdedit2.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="239" data-original-width="900" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtcZLU1hARVN_ZBj0PKCtH_q9it8T1SmI11AaCk9vHJdLPab838GKkkijBHjAnO6I_JxATqnu842eUM5wSxIKr2Li9JxaKqix2pLH5Iuez-A-hUrlDfJEv4QEgkyDtAD344QHhWtpgBtIJfRLf-w0iQxxSgqx-JVzuhr328RYfvi91cyjL4s4OjCLx/s16000/rainswept_hdedit2.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Some thoughts on blogging <br /></span></b>This post is from June 14, 2018 from <i>Rainswept </i>blog.<br /><br />What are the top ten things that come to your mind reflecting on your blogging journey: what prompted you to start, what obstacles did you or do you still have to overcome, what have been your major learnings, what plans do you have...? (This was a prompt from <a href="https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/">Tamara from Part-time Working Hockey Mom</a>.)<br /><br />So what can I say about blogging after 12 years of it? Nothing new so there might be a repeated thought or two but these are what I thought about blogging now.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">01 - I'm more of a slacker blogger now. </span></b>When I started blogging, I used to post a lot, comment a lot, join a lot of challenges and memes, add my blog to a lot of directories and such. Now I just blog at a slower pace, my pace, which is really very slow.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">02 - I still like to have an audience. </span></b>You don't put your blog out there to keep people away, you do it do get people to come to you, isn't it true? I can't deny that I like having readers - they're one of many reasons that keeps me blogging.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">03 - I do a lot of mental blogging. </span></b>I think about things to blog a lot but not much gets posted because most of the time, I just don't think whatever idea I have, is interesting or good enough to post. So if it seems like I haven't posted in a long while, it just means I haven't find anything good enough to post. Either that or I'm slacking off.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">04 - Sometimes I feel I should be on a blogging break every few days.</span></b> It is possible to be a normal person with no thoughts of blogging what so ever but ever since I started blogging, I cannot not remember I have a blog that needs to be updated. (Occasionally I really do forget.) I envy those who can put up a post every day and not be bored with their blog. I can't do the same. So, what's a blogger to do? Well, I try to post whenever possible but mostly, I try not fret about it.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">05 - Successful blogging is when you have at least, made one reader respond to your post or so I tell myself. </span></b>Whenever you send a post out there, you hope for a respond, right? I think if one reader gives a (nice or not nice) respond, then you've succeeded as a blogger. I'm always grateful for those few readers who visit my blog and I'm glad I can at least, post something interesting once in a while.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">06 - I still have no blog niche and I'm okay with that. </span></b>This blog, my blog, is considered a personal blog which pretty much means it's a 'anything goes' blog but I mostly post about the same things - books, movies, fiction writings, drawings and everything else. But I guess it's still a bit random and lacking some forms of cohesiveness but I'm okay with that.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">07 - I have no blogging schedule. </span></b>I just post whenever I want and whenever I feel there is too much time in between posts. I have said several times how nice it would be to have a schedule but it's hard to have a schedule when you have no content to plan around so like my blog's random content, my schedule continues to be random too. But every now and then, I participate in challenges and memes (like this one you're reading right now) and in a certain way, this is a scheduled post.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">08 - I've always disliked the two/three column blog template.</span></b> I've no problems with other bloggers having one or even two sidebars, I just have a problem if it's my own blog. So my blog has returned to one column. I just find all that sidebar items to be too much chaos, too much distractions from the content and sometimes I think I'm too much of an organize freak to have a sidebar because I would keep moving items around to get them to look organized.<br /><b><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;">09 - I still have secret hopes that some of my favorite bloggers will return to blogging one day. </span></b>It's just ashamed how so many bloggers just disappeared on you. They're not gone, they're just elsewhere, just not on their blog. I know they have lives and blogging is not number one on their to-do list but still, I just wish they would come back even for brief periods. Even though I have removed them from my blogroll, I still sometimes check their blogs for updates. <br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">10 - I am a anti-social-media blogger.</span></b> Okay, not entirely true since blogging is a form of social media. But I've avoided joining Facebook. I've quitted Twitter and Pinterest a long time ago. I just don't have any interest in social media. I prefer blogs more than all other medias so I guess that makes me old-fashioned. <br /><br /><b>What are your thoughts on blogging these days?</b><br /><p></p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-48739972172567267122024-03-15T19:42:00.000-04:002024-03-15T19:42:32.615-04:00Retro Minute #17: Twin Test<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the seventeenth post from May 21, 2010 from<i> Just writing words </i>blog.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzNnkytUI727YcOYMlDKC5qxPND3QchkNmOOkZWToD_ws_zgddl5gzjiSaEKdAz_ZreRk-gIN1akZAzYt-Pw4d3h5WseWrdTerxBPITCUk2aXDtCaic1Zxsj07IqbZOmqYQuFx5i_EWy70Yv_fiKskq5sp2wXSAQ9U-zrRV4dGkBcyRH2F1azZUNC/s1000/justbannerDec9rr.jpg" style="margin-left: 0 margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="1000" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzNnkytUI727YcOYMlDKC5qxPND3QchkNmOOkZWToD_ws_zgddl5gzjiSaEKdAz_ZreRk-gIN1akZAzYt-Pw4d3h5WseWrdTerxBPITCUk2aXDtCaic1Zxsj07IqbZOmqYQuFx5i_EWy70Yv_fiKskq5sp2wXSAQ9U-zrRV4dGkBcyRH2F1azZUNC/s16000/justbannerDec9rr.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_QWpbnsORCI2i1X9_3b6T7XRoN5LiH59M9yCSllGghil0HWXotF0PGsBRV_RcmVyh0KQjyS1aDSb3AJBr4dprl720Xy3Vr1lLb1bZjIhI0W-zdBKwNeZpok5E61hkjpz0FlJecFR3rNUblYrrDRBjqLnpdVygCzRAuARiNU8TS6VKk6m8lNY2Af6/s1000/coraltwinssm.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="839" data-original-width="1000" height="503" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_QWpbnsORCI2i1X9_3b6T7XRoN5LiH59M9yCSllGghil0HWXotF0PGsBRV_RcmVyh0KQjyS1aDSb3AJBr4dprl720Xy3Vr1lLb1bZjIhI0W-zdBKwNeZpok5E61hkjpz0FlJecFR3rNUblYrrDRBjqLnpdVygCzRAuARiNU8TS6VKk6m8lNY2Af6/s16000/coraltwinssm.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">color us coral<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Twin Test </span></b>(formally titled <i>Searching for my twin</i>)<br />I think people in general are either very similar or complete opposites. So below is a quiz to test how similar you are to me. Perhaps you're my long lost twin?<br /><br />Answer each one with a No, Yes or Neutral and add up the points. <br /><b>No = 0 points <br />Neutral = 5 points <br />Yes = 10 points </b><br /><br /><b>01. you're right-handed. <br />02. you have brown eyes.<br />03. you drink tea instead coffee.<br />04. you prefer to buy books over clothes.<br />05. you consider potato chips a food group.<br />06. you like to eat your vanilla, strawberry & chocolate ice cream in the same bowl.<br />07. you like happy endings even if they aren't necessary right for the characters.<br />08. the only sport you're good at is walking.<br />09. you're a bit of a neat-freak.<br />10. you're near-sighted.</b><br /><br /><b>If your score is 0</b>, you're probably my complete opposite.<br /><b>If your score is between 5 and 50</b>, you're almost like me.<br /><b>If your score is 50+</b>, you're my long lost twin.<br /><b>If your score is 100</b>, you are probably me but taller.<br /><br />If you think this test is a waste of time, you're probably right! I hope you have fun at least. Feel free to create your own twin test. <br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-62121226666441880662024-03-14T14:24:00.000-04:002024-03-14T14:24:12.068-04:00A-Z Challenge 2024: Yes? No?<p>I haven't decided whether I will do the <b>April A-Z challenge</b> this year. I did say last year was my last one but I don't know. I'm fickle-minded so I might just decide to do it at the last minute. I created a logo/badge for it in case I decide to do it. Of course I have two versions because, fickle mind.<br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgHfq92n4hc14f3a_tTegAUriDFcp9J71xvRmPCe24Dahc5cuJFVIfJfabYzSlXLAAvntK_n7sdZetGvOdE3cqOrsWVHYxWnTetTxIDqkjxcfLpfvrZE-JGra_dRA-d6qJMUa-7v2l3mdCv6LTuoqo6YO_xgihaA48PMtuNEXK2jPO-Mvh7VFR1Ae/s700/a-z2024logoA(sm).png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgHfq92n4hc14f3a_tTegAUriDFcp9J71xvRmPCe24Dahc5cuJFVIfJfabYzSlXLAAvntK_n7sdZetGvOdE3cqOrsWVHYxWnTetTxIDqkjxcfLpfvrZE-JGra_dRA-d6qJMUa-7v2l3mdCv6LTuoqo6YO_xgihaA48PMtuNEXK2jPO-Mvh7VFR1Ae/s16000/a-z2024logoA(sm).png" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the official badge - version 1<span><a name='more'></a></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNmjMhiY8Cuh064Kk0Pt8E8ENhNJrwJKKrpAWHz8vWXsVv72G6pXkuPYKmNoI8btJpL21LYBshlevrDdpeMAzLzHp1ox9y7RGJwjs-MY1U2jMYhRuFelDWO6KhnJwIaQT_Dcop6YZXzYWl5M8RgZpD0JHLANFetOZ6rIsjJiCz8yA5dM5m9oW3jSK/s700/a-z2024logoB(sm).png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicNmjMhiY8Cuh064Kk0Pt8E8ENhNJrwJKKrpAWHz8vWXsVv72G6pXkuPYKmNoI8btJpL21LYBshlevrDdpeMAzLzHp1ox9y7RGJwjs-MY1U2jMYhRuFelDWO6KhnJwIaQT_Dcop6YZXzYWl5M8RgZpD0JHLANFetOZ6rIsjJiCz8yA5dM5m9oW3jSK/s16000/a-z2024logoB(sm).png" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the official badge - version 2<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Their theme (on the a-z blog) is or will be, <b>hope, positivity, and blogging your best blog - victories blogging</b>. The theme is usually reflected in the logo/badge so I tried for that. My idea is spring since that signals newness and hope and I find spring is to be a positive season. So I may have been a little overzealous with the stars but I like to include them because every a-z badge seemed to have stars and stars are dreamy. Orange is a color I've always associated with spring and green too. I was going for red but decide a slightly pink-red would work better with that shade of orange. But I didn't inclue that red-pink in the second version because I like to keep that as the subtle color version while the first version is the full color version.<br /><span> </span>I have checked the a-z blog's 2024 badge and I have to say, I'm not a fan. I don't mean to criticize. Okay, yes I do. I can't resist sharing my opinion on this/these designs. It's an occupational hazard as a graphic designer. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-gApxy2kazyvleeQlHQbaeabY0QC9Wlz61a-OKarWovGS3NL0tqmiqAt4uu_Mj_V5Y1ieU9mpiJ5G2f-X99KI40rCQ0U0NS7b0BMn-cORipCF90lZwKy8LApgKDqC3U7joMxLR7YCmLc_isWCwH5u8X25ELLrWhYA4mU-MfcUFPe33ImlTAgKlA0/s649/A-Z-2024org.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="649" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-gApxy2kazyvleeQlHQbaeabY0QC9Wlz61a-OKarWovGS3NL0tqmiqAt4uu_Mj_V5Y1ieU9mpiJ5G2f-X99KI40rCQ0U0NS7b0BMn-cORipCF90lZwKy8LApgKDqC3U7joMxLR7YCmLc_isWCwH5u8X25ELLrWhYA4mU-MfcUFPe33ImlTAgKlA0/w400-h198/A-Z-2024org.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A-Z 2024 badge, alternative on the right<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>The choice of colors is, not to say it's bad. The reason I never like to use black, especially, black backgrounds, aside from not being able to read text on them very well (that's my poor eyesight), black is for doom and gloom and honestly, the lack of colors make this logo/badge depressing. <br /> The old badges were in bright colors which I had thought was too bright but this is going the opposite direction. Does this say hope and positivity as their theme suggested? Plus the Z gets lost/faded into the background so readability is half an issue. The purple-ish-pink color is just too tame or too light to express 'Victorious' as they said on the blog. And what's with the space between the year and the rest of the text? (2010-2024 - why was it switched from 2009 to 2010?) And the neon-green color for the web url - it's actually a good idea because all those purple-pinks needs something to break them up but of course it stands out way too much and your eyes shift their focus right onto it after the large 2024 text which may be the designer's intention.<br /> Their alternative logo is better but the leading (the space between sentences) could be better and some of the text (like the year and url) could have been smaller. And again, the bright green just draws your eye toward it. The circle with the leaves seems weak and doesn't compliment the strong text and the dots to complete the circle - just no.<b> <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/">Check out the A-Z Challenge over here.</a></b><br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-25752475351637706352024-03-13T19:42:00.000-04:002024-03-13T19:42:20.629-04:00Life advices from Mory (300th Post) This post you're reading is the <span style="color: #0b5394;"><b>300th published post</b></span>. At least, according to my Blogger dashboard. I'm too lazy to do anything to celebrate except to mention it here. <br /> So here's the 300th post which I might have posted before but I can't remember. I saved a lot of drafts and then forget which ones are the final versions. At least, I re-edited it so it's not exactly the same. I was going to post a fiction piece but decided this 300th post should be amusing, at least, I find amusing.<br /><br /><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwA-qOvA6hv_rRVwHBrr1nddtl88l_d0XdyR-Z2bVVUgmfkH9B8mB0ZacN-YjC_gs4fXWMhm_30Dy6uUA4Ur1sCBS4RrqpNV01qxWa1Y7Sz2G3S1p12WAab3_EPTWOY_621ZuomOrzM7RA_fywAQ6E2rz8JbIMMAG4yhs3v3jbcqTyCj95EfSzptobg/s900/zmasterdrawsm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img alt="cat sipping drink" border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="900" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwA-qOvA6hv_rRVwHBrr1nddtl88l_d0XdyR-Z2bVVUgmfkH9B8mB0ZacN-YjC_gs4fXWMhm_30Dy6uUA4Ur1sCBS4RrqpNV01qxWa1Y7Sz2G3S1p12WAab3_EPTWOY_621ZuomOrzM7RA_fywAQ6E2rz8JbIMMAG4yhs3v3jbcqTyCj95EfSzptobg/s16000/zmasterdrawsm.jpg" width="650" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is not Mory, it's a recreation of what he might looked like in his natural state.</td></tr></tbody></table><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Life advices from Mory (an imaginary creation living in the basement of someone's blog) </span></b><br />Today, please welcome back Mory. Mory is the manifestation or perhaps infestation (<i>I heard that!</i> from Mory) of my previous blog <i>The Memory of Rain</i> (name comes from the last four letters of memory). No one knows how his existence come about nor how to get rid of him but nonetheless, he is here and we have signed an agreement not to kick him out for several hours. He is also here to promote his book, "Mory's rules for selfish living and other inappropriate advices." But first, here are some useful advices (or useless advices, depending how you look at it but take them with a pound of sugar as they are quite bitter) on life and whatever wisdom he wishes to depart. <br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">01 - Just be yourself (with some adaptation)</span></b> — Even if that self is a selfish, ninja cat loving being who pretty much lives off other people. Most people don't know but we imaginary creatures, are resilient and we can adapt to any changes on or around us. Take me, for instance, I'm still here even when my creator abandoned me for other great adventures. I've not changed over the years, no, I have adapted. I've enjoyed my existence ever since I've learned to adapt. <i>So you too should learn to adapt or die! </i>But let's not get dramatic unless it's necessary.<br /><b><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;">02 - Don't be stupid</span></b> — No one likes a stupid guy who can't hold a conversation even if that conversation is about wallpaper. Just accept that sometimes you have to use your brain and to do that, you have to get educated. You don't want to be like my uncle Sissy. Every time someone ask him a question he doesn't know the answer to, he sticks his head in the oven which makes his life very inconvenient since he have to carry the oven around with him all the time. <i>Education is the key to staying alive, people!</i> Or just read a book.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">03 - Never do anything you wouldn't want to explain to the paramedics or the police or a priest or (gasps!) your mother</span></b> — Yep, good advice, got it from a road sign. If you want to embarrass yourself, go ahead but you will have to explain it to someone sooner and later. It's much better to go to jail for a crime that isn't embarrassing, don't you think?<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">04 - Make decisions when you're angry</span></b> — Really, this is the time when you truly know what you really want in life. Take my cousin Jess. When his parents told him he couldn't have a party for his tenth day of keeping a job, he got angry and set the house on fire but thankfully, no one was hurt but Jess realized he truly wanted to be a fire-starter but of course, it's frown upon but at least he knows where his passion lies though they are keeping him locked up just in case. Know that anger is a great trigger for your true feelings.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">05 - Go crazy if you want to </span></b>— You'll never get another chance at it so you might as well go nuts. Just don't buy nuts from other nuts, is what I'm saying.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">06 - If you can't do something, give it up</span></b> — There's no point in doing something you can't do. Waste your time with something more productive like napping or reading ninja cat adventure books.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">07 - Never ignore the urge to nap</span></b> — One must preserve one's good habit or else forget how to do it. So nap on.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">08 - When you have an impossible dream, let it go </span></b>— No, seriously, if you think you can be a superhero or some great humanitarian, let it go. Your dreams are meaningless since you can't get them to come true. Face reality. It's better to take a nap and dream pleasant things than to try to fulfill hopeless endeavors.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">09 - Don't exert yourself. Whatever you do, give it 70% or less</span></b> — No one's going know the difference. Heck, try 60%, I doubt anyone would notice. If anyone gives you a hard time for not doing your best, point it out to them that they have never told you to do anything at 100%. Plus, humans are just as lazy as the rest of us. They too sometimes only do 50%, it's just that no one has complained about them.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">10 - Keep on moving</span></b> — No use dwelling on unhappy or stupid things or keep them inside. And if you do, you'll swell up like my cousin Beth. They still haven't been able to get her down from the sky but they have gotten her tied down so she won't go anywhere unless a hurricane or tornado knocks her down.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">11 - Make yourself happy </span></b>— It's hard to please others so you might as well please yourself and sometimes that's hard too but give it a try.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">12 - Waste time, they will never come again</span></b> — No, seriously, time just passes by without you exerting yourself so waste the time and maybe try to enjoy it.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">13 - A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a vacation</span></b> — Yes, it does. I mean, if you haven't vacationed, then how do you know you can go the thousand miles?<br /><br />Well, there you go. Some advices from Mory. Sad news - we just heard from Mory that his book, "Mory's rules for selfish living and other inappropriate advices" will not be published and his publisher had returned the manuscript. But Mory is still hopeful. If you want to support him, send him some food but since he have no address, he said to just take a 15-second nap as a tribute to him. Just think of him before your nap and he gets a burst of energy which gives him the will to live longer. <b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Mory wishes everyone a good day and hope you don't forget to keep living.</span></b><br /></div>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-490118645224833902024-03-11T08:49:00.000-04:002024-03-11T08:49:06.994-04:00Retro Minute #16: Book reviews I shouldn't write<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts </span></b>from previous blogs. Here's the sixteenth post from June 16, 2020 from <i>The memory of rain </i>blog.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCdB7OrvDjpnEW8D2aGr2AHI1iCz7sTW46JgH0_tY-6tlmkqSxXoTnMts73b5J-kLK1IstmGC5xjjPrYso1YZ6aOnqq1XUV_jM-nZVJFmghJ9L2wiYkB1bhDvDBtuobCf-UKycehVPuC_f-X3B1YfnDMe3MobIZPFY17gHOJtQv6vvw0nl-DCeF0a/s900/memoryrainhedjan2021b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="900" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCdB7OrvDjpnEW8D2aGr2AHI1iCz7sTW46JgH0_tY-6tlmkqSxXoTnMts73b5J-kLK1IstmGC5xjjPrYso1YZ6aOnqq1XUV_jM-nZVJFmghJ9L2wiYkB1bhDvDBtuobCf-UKycehVPuC_f-X3B1YfnDMe3MobIZPFY17gHOJtQv6vvw0nl-DCeF0a/s16000/memoryrainhedjan2021b.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Book reviews I shouldn't write </span></b><br /><br /><b>'Book reviews I shouldn't write' </b>or perhaps<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"> 'Direct and slightly sarcastic book reviews I shouldn't write just because I hated what I read.'</span></b> There aren't any specific books for these reviews and you probably shouldn't take them seriously since I wrote them to as jokes. (This was for <i>Top Ten Tuesday</i>.)<br /><br />01 - My goldfish read this book also and he thought it kind of sucked but he's a very picky reader so you shouldn't trust his judgement but I somehow agreed with him but only because I'm a picky reader too.<br /><br />02 - I've not read this book but I heard a lot of things about it and it's so popular that everyone had read it and I've been a bit downtrodden by endless recommendations to read it. But I have zero desire to read it but I got a copy and I'm going to pretend I've read it just so people won't think I'm weird for not reading it.<br /> <br />03 - I read the book but I can't say I liked it. I am certain somewhere in this universe or another, someone liked this book, just not me.<br /><br />04 - I've tried to read this book but the characters drove each other crazy and they in term drove me crazy so I gave it to the one person who will truly appreciate it: my talking pet raccoon. He's a bit unhinged but we are not to say that out loud. He loves sleeping on hardcovers because of his bad back and because he knows how expensive hardcovers can be.<br /><br />05 - I really tried to like this book. I tried reading it while I'm fully awake but it made me drowsy. I tried reading it while half-awake but it again it made me drowsy. I tried reading it with music but I ended up listening to the music instead of reading. I tried reading it while trying to sleep but I couldn't keep my eyes open. I tried reading the ebook version but the words blurred and then my ereader died as if it knew I shouldn't be reading it. I even tried the audio version but the narrator sounded like he was reading a manual for building a closet. Finally, I've come to the conclusion: this book just refused to be liked by me and maybe it sucked in every format. (That last bit was added by my goldfish, he's very opinionated.)<br /><br />06 - I thought this book would offer some meaningful ideas and a unique story but instead, it just made me want to put it out of its misery, perhaps dropping it into the ocean and getting eaten by a shark or throwing it into a volcano where it will burn for all eternity and never to be read again.<br /><br />07 - This book depressed me. Yes, it did. I was forced to go to therapy and the therapist told me it is normal to hate books for depressing me and that I should eat a lot of chocolate and buy a lot of books.<br /><br />08 - Review as written by my pet dragon: He didn't say anything but he blew some smoke out of his nostrils and then he set fire to the book and flew back to his cave for a nap.<br /><br />09 - I threw this book against a wall and it survived. It's not that it made me angry, it's just that it makes me sad, sad that I had read something so bad and sad that I can't remove some of the bits from my memory. And yes, it did make me slightly angry because I actually pay full price for it.<br /><br />10 - I've read this book and it was so terrible that I went online and read the negative reviews so I can at least enjoy something from the book: watching other people made fun of it.<br /><br /><b>What things you wouldn't or shouldn't say in a review? </b><br /><p></p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-76236628603599927262024-03-10T11:28:00.001-04:002024-03-11T14:13:55.944-04:00Retro Minute #15: A Trip to Rome & Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the fifteenth post from February 15, 2018 from <i>Rainswept</i> blog.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WDWwuE4gbqMwFEgZ_QNyqciR2rkz6cKEzY2sgp0ckwNUOmjLSGLDpqEoa7UyHAHHvazZU2TMvlRc0u_6hKeKQYeuob2V1xxjog4U94BDt4x0Tre76HUJD-wZZXow2Iql94WdGBPUZnFHmvJcU6-OBCY085irNXU5qqPrYVp6o3awgG739tkpRtwf/s1000/rainswepthdaug18edit24.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="1000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WDWwuE4gbqMwFEgZ_QNyqciR2rkz6cKEzY2sgp0ckwNUOmjLSGLDpqEoa7UyHAHHvazZU2TMvlRc0u_6hKeKQYeuob2V1xxjog4U94BDt4x0Tre76HUJD-wZZXow2Iql94WdGBPUZnFHmvJcU6-OBCY085irNXU5qqPrYVp6o3awgG739tkpRtwf/s16000/rainswepthdaug18edit24.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br />W<span>e</span></span><span style="color: #0b5394;">'re taking an imaginary city trip!</span></b> Pick a location you've been wanting to visit, google the heck out of the internet and put together the top ten things you want to see, do, experience, eat, etc. there! (Note: These would be the places I would visit if I ever thought to go on any type of tourist vacation. The movie references are in parenthesis.) (This was orginally posted for Top Ten Thursday hosted by <a href="https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2018/02/top-ten-thursday-city-trip.html">Tamara here</a>.)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrg2M4v9NG3OrHUQkl5xORsfwb1hRSG0GftZfTJ9aj4P3ccRzr-kjNMtvwyCfbnhLAlBgrPumJ2m3zNx9_SzQsvJaF4N52YN7mEazR42uAUQNbgrMGN8ojeaAP4M7D_cBaxdj5zSfBo9ea4EMAYsD2jhb-odRoxcnZsAj2rKfE-QQu1bXelHgH-LZ/s800/RomeItalyEd.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="800" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrg2M4v9NG3OrHUQkl5xORsfwb1hRSG0GftZfTJ9aj4P3ccRzr-kjNMtvwyCfbnhLAlBgrPumJ2m3zNx9_SzQsvJaF4N52YN7mEazR42uAUQNbgrMGN8ojeaAP4M7D_cBaxdj5zSfBo9ea4EMAYsD2jhb-odRoxcnZsAj2rKfE-QQu1bXelHgH-LZ/w400-h235/RomeItalyEd.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">~ Day 1 - Rome, Italy ~</span></b><br />The
flight to Rome was not great but the view of the clouds removed some of
the bad vibes though I was stuck in the middle seat between a tall man
with a scowl on his face and an old lady who chattered into a phone
recorder. The noises were hard to ignore but at least, I got ear plugs
which only worked slightly.<b><span><a name='more'></a></span><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXO1nVZ-k1vScT_44EoXqYHbRLUc4c0Y9XSm7w0hKRArmmKxAkwuIYKCSvj5shMBlEZN760TADrFZbzRuar8KB_90YsrfCIhpJzbpLGZu5nLunhqKEhi2tdtG7B1klHqR9jSmzv4ASYi4W0L1CCO0DfbKkg-DB0vq9QSSIv1ubqJjtlc4NP_1Hwlx5/s736/01-Checkhotel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="566" data-original-width="736" height="373" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXO1nVZ-k1vScT_44EoXqYHbRLUc4c0Y9XSm7w0hKRArmmKxAkwuIYKCSvj5shMBlEZN760TADrFZbzRuar8KB_90YsrfCIhpJzbpLGZu5nLunhqKEhi2tdtG7B1klHqR9jSmzv4ASYi4W0L1CCO0DfbKkg-DB0vq9QSSIv1ubqJjtlc4NP_1Hwlx5/w485-h373/01-Checkhotel.jpg" width="485" /></a></div>01 - Check into a small, homely hotel </span></b>(Roman Holiday)<br />It was night when I arrived in Rome. The lady behind the desk spoke broken English but at last, I went up to my room by many winding stairs. It was small but lovely. In the morning, when I woke up to take a shower, I found a strange lady there. She was the maid and she was surprised to see me but she smiled before she left me the towels. I should never book hotels again without first asking how the cleaning service was.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggNe0NIhTdokrjTOOIPqyzUwAJnBasDS6uVkkxdeW2mcPXePgGYnRIprPh7kKubV0XqA5s85klRd-31KzOw1_OaMF-JHx2tXVWUIbv888VFI1jtGn3E27FwF6HWfii8YBz9LpqhY_3V1T6VJcaTdeEvMPpyRYnvlYj2LCBbkZ8d7Lbuadv4HqtVpbd/s500/02-Roman-Holiday.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggNe0NIhTdokrjTOOIPqyzUwAJnBasDS6uVkkxdeW2mcPXePgGYnRIprPh7kKubV0XqA5s85klRd-31KzOw1_OaMF-JHx2tXVWUIbv888VFI1jtGn3E27FwF6HWfii8YBz9LpqhY_3V1T6VJcaTdeEvMPpyRYnvlYj2LCBbkZ8d7Lbuadv4HqtVpbd/s16000/02-Roman-Holiday.jpg" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">02 - A ride on a motorbike on the streets of Rome</span></b> (Roman Holiday)<br />It was a warm afternoon when I woke up after a long nap. Somehow I managed to secure a ride through the streets of Rome from a really nice fella who was an American. He smiled far too much showing off his perfect but coffee-stained teeth. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZMklcBCJpVGobtnAkpFb0Kx-0rfIre4gdDmEE_DZOtc6z3OiZgSn6eCsosNivFNbFBTxrpq52tJ92oEliinqh_oWllqUNAkVdZ34j7ckcqNEOtW8FhfT0XGqvf3yM-Gcco_TcMifXJcBDTotTzWe0lSs2svEnj7vvVrC2NfLxAubze7nubi4zTml/s769/03-mouth-truth.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="769" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZMklcBCJpVGobtnAkpFb0Kx-0rfIre4gdDmEE_DZOtc6z3OiZgSn6eCsosNivFNbFBTxrpq52tJ92oEliinqh_oWllqUNAkVdZ34j7ckcqNEOtW8FhfT0XGqvf3yM-Gcco_TcMifXJcBDTotTzWe0lSs2svEnj7vvVrC2NfLxAubze7nubi4zTml/w510-h369/03-mouth-truth.jpg" width="510" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">03 - At the Mouth of Truth (La Bocca della Veritá) </span></b>(Roman Holiday)<br />We stop at the Mouth of Truth and the American dared me to stick my hand in the mouth. The myth is that it would bite the hands off of liars. I shook my head. I'm not a liar but who wants to take the chance of losing a hand?<br /><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /><b>~ </b><b>Day 2 </b><b>~ </b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9_Bsxfrh2T6j0qPbrKVN9rSkCHSu1U5HHiuL980QNgO5ZVxtF6CmFdtQtICFYP6pV1JjohW8_ECTsS4Zf1Jk1xhqqOE1Zsk2zXwTIAuCXaIrPhgFkTobhvD2iDiSdANj6An6pO2qD7O9HkTS40ZZSjKy2rVBTHKqnEv43IaXrtGaneR7YeTAO0KO/s1000/04-Spanish_steps_Rome_Italy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="1000" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9_Bsxfrh2T6j0qPbrKVN9rSkCHSu1U5HHiuL980QNgO5ZVxtF6CmFdtQtICFYP6pV1JjohW8_ECTsS4Zf1Jk1xhqqOE1Zsk2zXwTIAuCXaIrPhgFkTobhvD2iDiSdANj6An6pO2qD7O9HkTS40ZZSjKy2rVBTHKqnEv43IaXrtGaneR7YeTAO0KO/w502-h334/04-Spanish_steps_Rome_Italy.jpg" width="502" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">04 - A walk on the Spanish Steps</span></b> (Roman Holiday)<br />I brought an ice cream cone and sat on the Spanish Steps. Though it was still hot, the ice cream made it a very enjoyable day plus I had another cone and a whole bunch of junk food.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPWw6cWluM72sY5hEyjxjFqWcFopOIQGejk0RC5ekTrobttms4zZr4gVPzg-ChPZM7YntdplfW7u9fB2RXSOPW2ArERKzVAH3N4ctSYTSEytF6S7r4H9uLvv9iWf60mSlTPxc2M_om8dhy7AyderiAOEaGa4A4IT6CY-nkCZCIZwXyFIXkycm4NT6/s2400/05-roman-holiday-collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="2400" height="538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPWw6cWluM72sY5hEyjxjFqWcFopOIQGejk0RC5ekTrobttms4zZr4gVPzg-ChPZM7YntdplfW7u9fB2RXSOPW2ArERKzVAH3N4ctSYTSEytF6S7r4H9uLvv9iWf60mSlTPxc2M_om8dhy7AyderiAOEaGa4A4IT6CY-nkCZCIZwXyFIXkycm4NT6/w640-h538/05-roman-holiday-collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">05 - A party out in the night</span></b> (Roman Holiday)<br />Somehow I ended up at a party and I danced with a barber and then a very handsome gentleman. I danced rather clumsily but he didn't notice or pretended not to notice. Though there were some strange scuffles about but otherwise the evening was quite lovely.<br /><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /><b>~ </b><b>Day 3 - Paris, France </b><b>~ <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOJsCwP5ReBLxcyfb0WkJsROqNpM81APSVxPVBCNef6G0UcSdxMuxKuSzICI7EZTJXxCuj7UFbegtQ_SE_IEr36tvLj57FNn75YPW8JNWq6Pl5nBEvaQp55qOr7_pNxTN_CDRT1xyar96yHK3wjwhu4B0bkSAl1EcYZrN9R14pzU5Yf3M-lI1pR2T/s569/parisfranceed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="569" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOJsCwP5ReBLxcyfb0WkJsROqNpM81APSVxPVBCNef6G0UcSdxMuxKuSzICI7EZTJXxCuj7UFbegtQ_SE_IEr36tvLj57FNn75YPW8JNWq6Pl5nBEvaQp55qOr7_pNxTN_CDRT1xyar96yHK3wjwhu4B0bkSAl1EcYZrN9R14pzU5Yf3M-lI1pR2T/w400-h330/parisfranceed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></b></span>Soon I was on a flight to Paris though I had to pay extra for a later flight as I missed the first flight. I woke up late. The time difference wasn't much but it certainly affected my sleeping habits. The flight was short which was nice. A quick check in at a hotel, a short nap and off I go.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqz64Uk2SCNJtvmFRul6vBhmYH9nPRFrMkNr1aJ4AdWvCM_8KkOaAMCQrr-RwfOXz4gObW8f2wIk08daU2v37M7mijshipSxsHHTTMD9dirqBryF_N_Wu8n7ZHKqLt52L0LKxGpD-6twJOYvd4VDAs7S81c0145InFnmJ3o-f9I4VVaHDOqk4-jmxK/s600/06-funnyface.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="337" data-original-width="600" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqz64Uk2SCNJtvmFRul6vBhmYH9nPRFrMkNr1aJ4AdWvCM_8KkOaAMCQrr-RwfOXz4gObW8f2wIk08daU2v37M7mijshipSxsHHTTMD9dirqBryF_N_Wu8n7ZHKqLt52L0LKxGpD-6twJOYvd4VDAs7S81c0145InFnmJ3o-f9I4VVaHDOqk4-jmxK/w562-h316/06-funnyface.jpg" width="562" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">06 - A visit to a bookstore</span></b> (Funny Face)<br />I strolled around the streets and found a little book shop. The place was small but it was heavenly. Most of the books were old paperbacks and in French but I looked through them just the same. A whole bunch of people came for a photo shoot and ushered me out rather quickly.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhatbJhW9RapsnPT3ymSz8RbojruJiaEh5_F8NdEOYJqjIMj2Dbmv9gzUXrQvNoXhrkbCiBWYTmBkGkvospQ6zVvJ9yjrKMnb_Vr5tXRO7ch_HAhk406ofSbTNLtsP0FyG0xGsrdtAllzm0dSxRVlpb4QYdueXiZYQ8kfJ9H4Zl6r7nuQHz5RNqmWBU/s1080/07-BateauMoucheSeine1_Charade-collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhatbJhW9RapsnPT3ymSz8RbojruJiaEh5_F8NdEOYJqjIMj2Dbmv9gzUXrQvNoXhrkbCiBWYTmBkGkvospQ6zVvJ9yjrKMnb_Vr5tXRO7ch_HAhk406ofSbTNLtsP0FyG0xGsrdtAllzm0dSxRVlpb4QYdueXiZYQ8kfJ9H4Zl6r7nuQHz5RNqmWBU/w568-h640/07-BateauMoucheSeine1_Charade-collage.jpg" width="568" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">07 - A night bateau-mouche (open boat) ride on the Seine</span></b> (Charade)<br />Met an American there, he seemed nice but somewhat sly. Could he be a spy or some sort of government agent? It's hard to say though he was quite a gentleman.<br /><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;"><b> ~ Day 4 ~ </b></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-va6pNq8Ge-2ia6EbAR-t_8w391HBdolBirs9dDBlsnCFmVsbmICylcrRaIvw4SNWSy6zTXofJ2tVnd5O_dRgIdUPC_z0Xtv1X3YLVnND5iShKeighNt6yjjbATtJS9o7Z91QLqueTfv0x1ZW5Zhy2nTvQxINijoHKnb4PAyN7KjQ_GL-bonR3ytW/s999/08-collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="999" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-va6pNq8Ge-2ia6EbAR-t_8w391HBdolBirs9dDBlsnCFmVsbmICylcrRaIvw4SNWSy6zTXofJ2tVnd5O_dRgIdUPC_z0Xtv1X3YLVnND5iShKeighNt6yjjbATtJS9o7Z91QLqueTfv0x1ZW5Zhy2nTvQxINijoHKnb4PAyN7KjQ_GL-bonR3ytW/w640-h360/08-collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">08 - A visit to the Eiffel Tower</span></b> (Funny Face)<br />What's a visit to Paris without seeing the Eiffel Tower? There were these people bursting into song right there but I didn't mind. It was fun to watch them. But the best part was the view - it was amazing.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBiyQ4y2MRBs3t4aThwitZQ4oigkHEmFPYP6-l_VKEHDY3bdMMjd1_smNwV4IqolCdtpzybi0I69E8Yf7SnFJFVbDn0y7jzD7hDZjX4TBSURKPkAkv50BXZM76VDsW_gWd_2LhYttjmmyUBlIHwv1NnijftLwnkxdJPdEttmFCEGriNHy0b4Vz76Ys/s1119/09-carnavaletmuseum-howtostealmil.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1105" data-original-width="1119" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBiyQ4y2MRBs3t4aThwitZQ4oigkHEmFPYP6-l_VKEHDY3bdMMjd1_smNwV4IqolCdtpzybi0I69E8Yf7SnFJFVbDn0y7jzD7hDZjX4TBSURKPkAkv50BXZM76VDsW_gWd_2LhYttjmmyUBlIHwv1NnijftLwnkxdJPdEttmFCEGriNHy0b4Vz76Ys/w640-h632/09-carnavaletmuseum-howtostealmil.png" width="640" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">09 - The art museum Musée Carnavalet (The Musee Carnavalet) </span></b>(How to steal a million)<br />Everything here was wonderful though the security seemed rather serious standing guard. It was far more crowded than usual but I did get to see some artworks and sculptures though no cameras was allowed so no pictures. There was some excitement about a special sculpture but I didn't pay much attention.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQvQSUOrwH427mxPkxxL2HhqM6QM7JTzoDWjuRhQnDMK3QyPYlpbS0tHW49hIvyL0Qkyg9Q2LNb0IejNdOfvqeTAwymudTl68BPQ6ujQkeLS8YAUI8Su09_ezUmx67r-dE5hxZ1JBWFwVe-qCvyrEpfB9KMLvN8aLy3JAfVniw_M6DpMpXpsMPDSJ/s1944/10-Restaurant_Maxim-stealmill-coll.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1459" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXQvQSUOrwH427mxPkxxL2HhqM6QM7JTzoDWjuRhQnDMK3QyPYlpbS0tHW49hIvyL0Qkyg9Q2LNb0IejNdOfvqeTAwymudTl68BPQ6ujQkeLS8YAUI8Su09_ezUmx67r-dE5hxZ1JBWFwVe-qCvyrEpfB9KMLvN8aLy3JAfVniw_M6DpMpXpsMPDSJ/w480-h640/10-Restaurant_Maxim-stealmill-coll.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">10 - A meal at the Maxim's, 3 Rue Royale </span></b>(How to steal a million)<br />The meal was satisfying and the company was interesting and quite handsome. The man just appeared and started talking to me though he seemed quite focused on crime. A quick after dinner walk and that was the end of the trip.<br /><b><br />Where do you want to go on your trip?</b><br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Image credits:<br />Rome, Italy image by David Iliff > <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Colosseum_in_Rome,_Italy_-_April_2007.jpg">link</a><br />Roman Holiday screenshots > <a href="https://theblondeatthefilm.com/2013/11/21/roman-holiday-1953/">link</a><br />Spanish Steps in Rome (Photo by Piotr aka 2pi.pl) > <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Spanish_steps_Rome_Italy.jpg">link</a><br />Paris, France (photo by Sergey Ashmarin) > <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Eiffel_Tower_at_night_-_Paris,_France_-_panoramio.jpg">link</a><br />Funny Face screenshots</span><span style="font-size: small;"> > <a href="https://adashofcinema.wordpress.com/2013/09/23/funny-face/">link 1</a> > <a href="https://www.bluscreens.net/funny-face.html">link 2</a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Charade screenshots</span><span style="font-size: small;"> > <a href="http://movie-tourist.blogspot.com/2014/08/charade-1963.html">link 1</a> > <a href="https://happythoughtsdarling.wordpress.com/2009/08/22/top-ten-reasons-i-love-charade/#more-436">link 2</a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />How to steal a million screenshots > <a href="https://theblondeatthefilm.com/2014/06/16/how-to-steal-a-million-1966/">link 1</a> > <a href="http://sweetsundaymornings.blogspot.com/2016/11/how-to-steal-million-1966.html">link 2</a> > <a href="http://movie-tourist.blogspot.com/2014/04/how-to-steal-million-1966.html">link 3</a><br />Musée Carnavalet</span><span style="font-size: small;"> > <a href="http://www.carnavalet.paris.fr/en/museum-carnavalet">link</a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Maxim's (photo by Natlo47) > <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Restaurant_Maxim%27s.JPG">link</a></span><br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-85946335423394825052024-03-09T19:02:00.002-05:002024-03-09T19:02:50.121-05:00Fiction: Truth and Glitter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s900/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="900" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s16000/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" width="550" /></a></div><p>This month's <b>Words for Wednesday </b>prompts are provided by <b><a href="https://river-driftingthroughlife.blogspot.com/2024/03/words-for-wednesday.html">River and hosted at her blog here</a></b>. This week's prompts are: <i>poised, reef, crashing, bridge, wrecked, turquoise, glitter.</i><br /> <br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Fiction: Truth and Glitter</span></b> <br />Rose stood, poised over the sink, as water ran over her hands. The tiny, shiny flakes slipped off her fingers and down the drain. It was another crashing realization. The glitter weren't going away any time soon.<br /> She turned off the faucet and dried her hands on the towel hanging on the wall. It must be some kind of cosmic joke. How could someone's lie make glitter come out of her fingertips? Gloves didn't help as the glitter just get in the way of moving her hands. She studied her finger tips. They were round, ordinary and a little rough. Nothing unusual. She sighed. <br /> Around her, the turquoise with bits of orange and brown tiles on the wall and floor - colors of a barrier reef - made her feel like a wrecked ship in the middle of the ocean with half her mind intact and the other half looking for dry land. For a long moment, she sat on the toilet cover and stared at the tiles.<br /> There was no need to panic. The glitter had been subtle, minuscule nuisances and weren't easy to see unless in certain angles and lights. She took in a deep breath and let it out. It was time to get back to work. She exited the bathroom and toward the storefront. Rose's part-timer, Sarah, was behind the counter attending to a customer. Rose waited until she was done before sending her to the back to check on orders.<br /> Owning a flower shop was Rose's dream but when the glitter started to appear last week, it became almost unbearable. Every one of her customers lied, if not about who the flowers were for then about something else. She had to tell people the glitter was part of the service but who put glitter in their flower bouquets? At least, no one complained about it. Yet.<br /> <a name='more'></a> The bell above the door rang and a tall older man entered. He stopped by the counter and gave Rose a small smile. "Hi, I like some pink roses for my wife." <br /> Rose smiled. "How many? We offer a dozen for 50 bucks." Flowers weren't cheap, not these flowers that came from a special farm out of town. But men would pay through the roof for them if it meant getting their wives/girlfriends/significant others to forgive them.<br /> "I'll take two dozen. Make it two separate bouquets. Got my wife really mad. Need the extra flowers." The man chuckled. He glanced around the space. It was a small shop with a glass front and room enough for a certain amount of flowers and a counter.<br /> "Certainly. Anything else?" Rose started gathering up the roses. Glitter slipped from her fingers but she ignored them but it was a little harder to ignore the warmth that came with them. It wasn't her business why the man was lying. When she had the roses tied and wrapped, she picked up the pruning shears from the basket to her right on the work table and started cutting the stems.<br /> "No. Mind if I ask you a question?" said the man.<br /> She turned her head slightly to glance at the man. "Sure, ask away."<br /> "Do you think I should maybe get something else for my wife? Maybe it's time for a change. Sal— I mean, Joanne, keeps saying I don't give her enough of a surprise. Perhaps those white flowers over there?"<br /> Rose sighed. She had already cut the stems. The roses wouldn't last long after that. Keeping her face neutral, she turned and replied, "Sure. Whatever you want but I have to charge you for the roses since they are already wrapped and ready."<br /> He nodded a couple of times. "Yes but... that old saying the customer is always right - don't you follow that? I'm sure not going to pay for flowers I didn't ask for."<br /> "But you did ask for them!" She took a breath and let it out. "Can't you just give both rose bouquets to your mistress and get a dozen white lilies for your wife?" Oh no, did she say that out loud?<br /> "How dare you assumed I was cheating on my wife. What business is it yours?" The man's eyes flared.<br /> "I—" Rose paused. What could she say to that? He was here before and always ordered the same thing. One time he ordered by phone and had her write the cards to two different woman with the same message but delivered to two different addresses. Business depended on keeping one's mouth shut or so said Rose's mother. Rose took a deep breath and let it out. "Look here, Mister. You're paying for both bouquets or else you're banned from this shop." <br /> He laughed. "Is that so? I can have this place turn to ash with a lift of my fingers. Now either you do what I asked or get ready for an out-of-business sale. And don't think just because you're holding those scissors, you can scare me!"<br /> More glitter spat out of her fingers. That's it! She walked around the counter and aimed the shears at the man. "This isn't a scissor. This is a pruning shears. It is sharp. It can cut through steel and flesh. Do you know what I mean?" She glared at him.<br /> He straightened up. "Don't you threaten me, missy!"<br /> She scoffed. "Tell the truth. You are cheating on your wife, am I right?"<br /> "I will no—"<br /> "Answer the damm question!" She stepped closer toward him and lifted the shears higher. <br /> "No, I'm not." He smiled. "You're mistaken."<br /> Tiny burst of glitter rained on the shears. "You're lying. Tell the truth or else or I will redecorate your face!" She pointed the shears at him.<br /> "Fine! It's true. I'm cheating on my wife. So what? Now would you please put that sci—shears down!"<br /> "Not unless you pay for both bouquets." She kept the shears at him.<br /> He took another step back. "Fine! I'll pay for both bouquets! Just put the shears down." <br /> She sighed and lowered the shears and returned behind the counter.<br /> "By the way, you've got glitter on your nose," he said as he took out his wallet.<br /> She lifted her hand to her face and then regretted it. <br /> "Son of a monkey! Are you alright?" The man was staring at her with wide eyes.<br /> Blood dripped down from her face. She dropped the shears on the table. <br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br /><br />The blood stopped oozing out by the time Rose reached the emergency room. The tall man was with her up until she was surrounded by a doctor and a nurse.<br /> "How did you get hurt? If the cause is something that might contain harmful substances, I might need to prescribe certain type of medication." The doctor met her eyes as he pulled on rubber gloves. His eyes were a nice shade of blue that matched the bathroom in her shop. <br /> "A pruning shears - recently sharpened. I usually used it to cut flower stems. I'm a florist with my own shop," replied Rose. She sat on the examination table while the doctor stood over her with a nurse by his side. <br /> The doctor nodded. "Are you hurt anywhere else? There's a blood on your hands." He inspected her hand that was free.<br /> Rose shook her head. "No, just my unfortunate nose." She chuckled. There was no pain but perhaps it will come later.<br /> "Are you taking any medication or alternative medicine? Any allergies?"<br /> "Nope. No allergies. I don't take drugs, not even aspirin."<br /> "Alright, let's see the damage." The doctor smiled. "By the way, my name's Dr. Bell."<br /> "Rose." She lifted the scrunched-up-blood-soaked handkerchief off her nose. <br /> He took the handkerchief and dropped into the trash can on his left. "Miss Rose, it doesn't look too deep but you will need stitches, just a few. Nothing to worry about. Let's begin." Dr. Bell sat on a stool. <br /> She balled her hands into fists. In all her thirty years, this was the first time she had ever been to the emergency room. She wished someone was here with her.<br /> The patient two beds away was lying on his stomach and shirtless. "I told you, doctor, I fell and hit my back on a table. Enough questions!" he shouted.<br /> Rose's fingers felt a rush of heat. She was certain the glitter had appeared. Her hands was becoming sweaty.<br /> Dr. Bell placed a sheet with a hole over her face covering everything but the wounded area of her nose. "Ignore the man. Miss Rose, keep very still. You don't want a new scar on your nose. And it's probably best if you don't talk to keep the facial movement to a minimum. I'm sorry to be this close but I need to be to get to the wound."<br /> An earthy, citrus musk came from the doctor. She liked the pleasant scent.<br /> "It looks like the cut is right on the bridge of your nose. Perfect aim actually. But it's a surface wound. Nothing to worry about." Dr. Bell's voice was soothing.<br /> Someone screamed. "Don't worry about that. Now tell me, Miss Rose, are florists better at keeping plants alive? I'm known to be a plant killer. My sister refused to allow me near her garden. Have plants died on you? Oh, sorry, you shouldn't be talking. Now hold very still. I'll put some lidocaine to numb the area and then I'll start the stitching. You'll feel some bit of pain and discomfort but it's normal. Remember to stay very still. Just hold your hand up if you understand."<br /> She held up her left but then forgot about the glitters. <br /> "Put your hand down. Now, I must say, I don't get many people with nose injuries. It's usually somewhere bigger like the thigh or the back or the arm..."<br /> She listened to his voice and nothing else. Soon, Dr. Bell was removing the paper away. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said.<br /> Rose shook her head. "No." She had not felt much discomfort.<br /> "Now, I know I shouldn't be giving advice." Dr. Bell pulled off his gloves and dumped them into the trash can. He leaned toward Rose. "I think I ought to tell you I've seen how glitter come into your hands. Now don't worry, I won't say a word to anyone. But let me tell you what my father told me when one of my schoolmates told lies about me and pretty much ruined high school for me. He said, "Other people's lies are not your lies. It's not your fault they are lying so don't let their lies affect you." He tilted his head toward the man in the other bed. "Does it bother you that man over there is lying to the doctor?"<br /> She nodded. She didn't know why but when people lied, even if it has nothing to do with her, it annoyed her.<br /> "Well, don't let it bother you. He's just embarrassed so he lied. He and his wife are trying to have a kid." He chuckled and stood up. "That's it. Just fill out all the forms and get your meds, follow the instructions and so on. Have a good evening, Miss Rose." He held out an arm toward his left.<br /> "Thank you, Dr. Bell." She stood up.<br /> "No problem, Miss Rose." He smiled. "And what's your shop's name? I might come by, buy some flowers. Do you sell plants?"<br /> She shook her head. "No. Just flowers. The name of my shop is The Last Spring." She would've give him a card if she had brought them.<br /> "The Last Spring? Sounds like there's a story there." Dr. Bell. "Bye."<br /> "Not really. Bye." She walked pass him and didn't glance back. Despite the sudden pain on her nose, she smiled.<br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br /><br />By the time Rose returned to the shop, the sky had turned dark. Sarah was behind the counter. "Are you alright? I was freaked out when I saw you with all that blood," she said.<br /> "It's just a small cut." Rose glanced at the table where she had left the two rose bouquets but they were gone. The shears was back in the basket.<br /> Sarah turned to look toward the table. "Oh, the man came back and purchased the roses and also a dozen white lilies. Was I supposed to wait?"<br /> "It's fine. I need to go use the bathroom for a bit. Will you stay put for a while?" Rose wasn't feeling too bad having taken a couple of aspirins.<br /> "Sure but maybe you can take a sick day. I can stay until six." Sarah smiled. She had probably recognized Rose wasn't in her best state.<br /> "You can go home when I return. I'm okay. Just need a few moments." Rose smiled to reassure the girl and walked through the doorway to the back and to the bathroom where she closed the door and locked it.<br /> In the mirror, her face was drained of color. Dried blood covered the front of her shirt and top of her apron. Her hair had untangled from the braid. Most of her nose was covered in white bandage. Why didn't she remember she had a pair of shears in her hand? It was a just a tiny cut, nothing to worry about. That was what Dr. Bell said. He wasn't lying since no glitter came off her fingers. <br /> "Other people's lies are not your lies. It's not your fault they are lying so don't let their lies affect you." Dr. Bell's words repeated in her head. Why was she so bothered when people lied? It wasn't as if their lies affected her. She exhaled. Dr. Bell was right. It wasn't the glitter that bothered her, it was the lies. From here on, she will try to ignore her customers' lies. <br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br /><br />Back out front, with a change of shirt and apron, Rose took over the counter and sent Sarah home. Rose could have left too but she didn't want to go home yet. It wasn't as if someone was waiting for her. Besides, she loved being around flowers. They often calmed her. She sat down on the chair behind the counter. The clock on the wall to her left said it was a little after five. She had been at the emergency room longer than she thought. Thank goodness it was Thursday. She didn't have to open the shop tomorrow. <br /> A few customers came and went. She answered a couple of calls and had her deliveryman dropped off a few orders.<br /> Before long, it was a little before six - closing time.<br /> The bell rang. She stood up.<br /> "Hello, sweetheart. I'm glad I caught you before you close up." Her stepfather, Robert, stopped at the counter. <br /> "Hi, Dad." Rose smiled. Seeing her stepfather always cheered her. He had a happy face with large eyes and round cheeks.<br /> His thick, white eyebrows wiggled a bit. "Are you hurt? What happened to your nose?" The corner of his lips tilted upward slightly. "Was it an angry customer?"<br /> She laughed lightly. "Something like it. Don't tell Mom. What can I get you?"<br /> He nodded and smiled. "I like a dozen yellow tulips, if you please, Roseanna." <br /> "For the fight you had with Mom last week?" Rose started gathering up the tulips - they were her mother's favorite.<br /> Robert nodded. "Yes. For that."<br /> She picked a tulip from one of the buckets. Her hands warmed up and glitter slipped from her fingers but she proceeded to pick them. Between the noise of the tissue paper, cellophane, wrapping paper and the low sound of the music overhead as she wrapped them up, it was still not easy to ignore that her stepfather had lied.<br /> "I'm sorry I lied to you, sweetheart. Your mom and I didn't have a fight. We have several fights but it's not something you need to worry about. We're adults, we can take care of our own problems." He chuckled. "I think."<br /> "Okay." She laughed lightly. "I hope you two work it out."<br /> He nodded. "We will. If she doesn't kill me first." He chuckled.<br /> Her fingers lost their warm and only bits of glitter came out. She smiled and placed the finished bouquet on the counter.<br /> "Would you like to write something on the card or just sign your name?" She picked up a small card from the box under the counter on the build-in shelves and placed it on the counter top.<br /> "Sure." Robert picked up a pen from the glass jar beside the cash register. He paused, fingers flipping the pen. Then he scribbled something and handed the card to Rose. She tied the card into the ribbon and finished the transaction.<br /> Robert picked up the bouquet. "Thanks for this. Would you like me to wait and give you a ride home?"<br /> She shook her head. "No. You go on."<br /> "Goodnight, sweetheart."<br /> "Goodnight, Dad."<br /> Robert left. When Rose get home tonight, she will have phone calls from her mother. Rose wasn't the only one with unwanted talents. Her mother always knew when someone was lying to her. In her case, white granulated sugar eased out of her fingers. At least, she had some use for sugar. Glitter, well, Rose wasn't sure what to do with them aside from throwing them away but at least now, she knew, as long as she tried not to let the lies affect her, the glitter might eventually go away or at least, not show up so much.<br /><p></p><p></p><p></p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-27619632945957976402024-03-04T09:14:00.000-05:002024-03-04T09:14:20.527-05:00Retro Minute #14: Blog Map<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the fourteenth post from August 15, 2012 from <i>Don't rain on Mondays</i> blog. <b>Note: </b>This post was written for <a href="https://jennymatlock.blogspot.com/">Jenny Matlock</a>'s Alphabe-Thursday meme.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2D2aREJ3Xd3JNZzkNQdNprdQecpU_6idBeLBe4JnoyywbN8pMkT0u-Moe0bJyQ6DqxDs2tPWeR5fSHQvXQJJAEwmR7JmRxpTzQfF3Obu6UiWmubw9SPajtiwtgzQB1bXhvFm5OHEm5vAQlCnpg_4LAnAEsTJTM0vlVAzj84D7UP_oFkoRG6g7VSch/s700/dontrainhedaug12m.png" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="700" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2D2aREJ3Xd3JNZzkNQdNprdQecpU_6idBeLBe4JnoyywbN8pMkT0u-Moe0bJyQ6DqxDs2tPWeR5fSHQvXQJJAEwmR7JmRxpTzQfF3Obu6UiWmubw9SPajtiwtgzQB1bXhvFm5OHEm5vAQlCnpg_4LAnAEsTJTM0vlVAzj84D7UP_oFkoRG6g7VSch/s16000/dontrainhedaug12m.png" width="600" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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</div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Blog Map<br /><i>"I have an existential map. It has 'You are here' written all over it." – Steven Wright</i></span></b><i><br /></i>Since some people (okay, maybe it was just one person but it still counts!), they said they didn't know how to navigate my blog, I thought I would provide a blog map. This would also be an excuse to make commentaries on why I prefer to do things a certain way on this blog. If you do get lost, don't panic, there's always a way out -- simply direct your fingers to move your mouse to the 'home' link or the header graphic and you're back home. More or less.<br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><br />
<b><i>{ The Blog Map }</i></b> (click on image for a larger view)<b><i><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Fxw9MKVnz6-JO7xnkNj-0jiTf54z7vPNamFb3m7Z7Vva5GZUXzDAjdqCTUFd1ZW8hvbzh08vavdFNykmOz5TRpJ9AWiA6DxKrZsM48M1Yw4cOLr5wP6v0pkC4DvBd4Wh0RzhwDIHFNdg9mjmwKv9lDN2rqN1jAHmcPvQzs_4ZRUE_0RmfXXrTiTY/s1886/dontrainmaprev.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1886" data-original-width="1074" height="1054" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Fxw9MKVnz6-JO7xnkNj-0jiTf54z7vPNamFb3m7Z7Vva5GZUXzDAjdqCTUFd1ZW8hvbzh08vavdFNykmOz5TRpJ9AWiA6DxKrZsM48M1Yw4cOLr5wP6v0pkC4DvBd4Wh0RzhwDIHFNdg9mjmwKv9lDN2rqN1jAHmcPvQzs_4ZRUE_0RmfXXrTiTY/s16000/dontrainmaprev.jpg" width="600" /></a></div></i></b><b><i>{ The Details }<br /><br /></i></b>
<b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-size: medium;">1. Start ></span></span></b> <b>Tag Links</b>: pages of some importance. <br /><b>• hello </b>- a short introduction with some links to favorite posts<br /><b>• follow</b> - follow me through these four ways<br /><b>• dailies</b> - blogs I try to visit daily & blogs I admire & is often inspired by<br /><b>• buttons</b> - some buttons to memes & useful blog stuff<br /><b>• gallery</b> - some of my artwork<br /><b>• contact</b> - send me a email<br /><b>• home</b> - where nothing really happens but some might refute this<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-size: medium;">2. Home ></span></span></b> <b>Header</b>: a pretty image that somehow relates to the blog title but not really. It will lead you home if you click on it. The lovely header font is by Kimberly Geswein. I like using script fonts for my header. I choose colors base on what looks good to me at the time. The tag line {fiction, drawings, photographs & idle ramblings} really sums up this blog very well. Some other tags I might have used are: 'wasting my time blogging until something better comes along' or 'if you read this blog, then congrats, you are a winner! please direct yourself to a cupcake or better yet, go outside and do some somersaults.'<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">3. Detour Road > </span></b> <b>Blog Content</b>:<br /><b>• Post title</b> - I know you're suppose have interesting titles but for me, I like to keep them short & direct but there's always the occasion nonsensical titles that I like to use<br /><b>• Posted by…on… </b>- I thought about using various quirky wordings but decided the 'posted by' sounds more honest and have no extra frills<br /><b>• Labels</b> - what the post is about<br /><b>• Comments</b> - I really wanted to use some other wordings such as 'leave your words,' or something silly like 'bug me if you can' or 'share your opinions here although I probably will dismiss you if you say something demeaning,' but sometimes the easier the better, I think.<br /><b>• Home</b> - back to home page<br /><b>• Older Posts </b>- browse the older stuff<br /><b>• Newer Posts</b> - browse the newer stuff<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;">4. Short Stop > </span>Footer</b>:<br /><b>• Box Quote </b>- I love quotes. I used to have a quote section under my blog header in another blog that randomly change to a different quote each day but somehow the html coding doesn't work on the new blogger. Bummer. The current quote by Vincent Van Gogh says, "For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream." <br /><b>• What's on this blog</b> - labels that I use to sort my posts. I would like to have more labels but since I always hate having a post with tons of labels, I restrain myself and keep them to 3 or less for each post.<br /><b>• Blog Archive</b> - I would have a lot more if I have stayed on just one blog.<br /><b>• Copyright Notice </b>- in case someone says I don't have any say in my work and in case some people feel the need to steal what's not theirs.<br /><b>• Umbrella graphic with 'go here to follow my blog' </b>- follow my blog in four ways<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-size: medium;">5. Exit </span></span></b>> <b>End quote</b>: <br />Just something I added for no reason. It says,"This blog is powered by Blogger, music & a goldfish named Lightning." I do have a goldfish named Lightning only he is stuck inside a photograph and couldn't get out. I think a witch must have put a spell on him or something. He might be stuck there for a hundred years or so. I'm willing to wait for him because he's so darn cute!<br /> <br />So there you have it! A blog map of my blog. Or a what I would call my own private island. If only it was a treasure map, maybe then we can go treasure hunting together, eh or is it ah hoy?<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Notes, Credits & Links:</span><i><span style="font-size: small;"> Fonts used are from <a href="http://www.kimberlygeswein.com/"> Kimberly Geswein Fonts</a> and
<a href="http://kevinandamanda.com/fonts/fontsforpeas/">Fonts for Peas</a></span><span style="font-size: small;">. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Texture used on the map is from <a href="http://www.bittbox.com/">Bittbox.</a></span></i><br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-69189397674535834342024-03-02T09:28:00.000-05:002024-03-02T09:28:40.893-05:00Retro Minute #13: Owner of a quiet heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the thirteenth post from October 9, 2017 from<i> Rainswept</i> blog.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLtQtC9CVdF9XfBm_snOXAbl0PRu4UKBJt9cXAnPmvAZ3Geuc8U9V3YHYjaV01_KFszhlJwl-2xCL2eTI_s2izVE2P-XxgcDVzAZE6syYvrrkxkYn-qRDODHi3zVdRhMyYRIXAqJrJglVjqFD21iWoi40q_rCUWLMiZjD26zXJI1ZVC-eIswmd50e/s900/rainswepthdmar18B.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="900" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLtQtC9CVdF9XfBm_snOXAbl0PRu4UKBJt9cXAnPmvAZ3Geuc8U9V3YHYjaV01_KFszhlJwl-2xCL2eTI_s2izVE2P-XxgcDVzAZE6syYvrrkxkYn-qRDODHi3zVdRhMyYRIXAqJrJglVjqFD21iWoi40q_rCUWLMiZjD26zXJI1ZVC-eIswmd50e/s16000/rainswepthdmar18B.jpg" width="600" /></a></div></div><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Owner of a quiet heart </span></b><br />I was going to write something today but nothing came to me so, enjoy this art piece and this quote. (The artwork is originally done in 2017 but I revised it in 2020.) <br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvSgMA9bqSQxOVsE8p2TVDLg1SccK4NuwivAI73lS3KFRNPgUDE3RzQCjGNjvrVNdpJiXTutf9hfRIPmnI5Jva17dpYYtvm5TUbVXrnQBppYQ8FDOn8c1jWcSOkSTbKNFZUif2fIqkyzZCwtlWpYekyruEqge9RfHmrTSCX-9IW_xIjRZkOrdoax6/s1054/quietheart2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="800" height="790" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvSgMA9bqSQxOVsE8p2TVDLg1SccK4NuwivAI73lS3KFRNPgUDE3RzQCjGNjvrVNdpJiXTutf9hfRIPmnI5Jva17dpYYtvm5TUbVXrnQBppYQ8FDOn8c1jWcSOkSTbKNFZUif2fIqkyzZCwtlWpYekyruEqge9RfHmrTSCX-9IW_xIjRZkOrdoax6/s16000/quietheart2sm.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">quiet heart (revised 2020 version)<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><i>“I understood that as much as I had resisted the outside, as much as I had constricted my life, as much as I had closed and narrowed the channels into me, there were still many takers for the quiet heart.”</i><br /><i>– The Pleasure of My Company</i> by Steve Martin<br /></div>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-88221059052852427622024-03-01T08:55:00.001-05:002024-03-01T08:56:04.198-05:00February 2024 - Brief Review<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNzXfnBrco22sP_exh5INXoSq18FTuP9x04OCMHmUV75AmhRvR1XKKEyJDGtcYSqN4lAiUxXjWbdMoiD9UvNUpGVSKGSK3QdLEojaqZAG73nrtdOyAnyAVyd8irzjdTJzbwauJG7QFhwue3raSSi10B22wydcR2ESuYAbylAVUYFHhNN6Ov6zr4OtV/s837/gardenprincess_croppedsm.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="artwork - lady growing plants from her hands" border="0" data-original-height="837" data-original-width="797" height="auto" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNzXfnBrco22sP_exh5INXoSq18FTuP9x04OCMHmUV75AmhRvR1XKKEyJDGtcYSqN4lAiUxXjWbdMoiD9UvNUpGVSKGSK3QdLEojaqZAG73nrtdOyAnyAVyd8irzjdTJzbwauJG7QFhwue3raSSi10B22wydcR2ESuYAbylAVUYFHhNN6Ov6zr4OtV/s16000/gardenprincess_croppedsm.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the gardener (cropped), 2014</td></tr></tbody></table><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Even with the extra day in the month, it still felt like February just zoomed by. Here is a brief summary. </span></b>(Note: The artwork above is an old piece that I did years ago but kind of forgot about it until I saw it in one of my blog files folder so I thought I re-share this.)<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">01 - I read some forgettable books.</span></b> Either I'm slowly losing my love for reading or else I have been reading a lot of bland/crappy books. Maybe I'm just not picking the right books to read. I'll still look for books but there not many that interest me these days.<br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">02 - I had a long fight with my computer. </span></b>Apparently technology and I no longer get along. Things just keep going wrong with my computer. I had just upgraded to the most recent operating system (I used a Mac) but still there has been more problems than usual whenever I upgrade. Maybe I'm getting dumber or computers are getting smarter? I spent most of February cursing at the screen. Real fun when you're in a rush to finish a project for work. <br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">03 - I hosted Words for Wednesday</span></b> and I have to admit, I wasn't a very good host. I visited those who participated but a day or two late and I didn't try to get people to participate. I'm not even sure I know how aside from visiting people's blogs. I get the feeling people are less and less interested in prompts, memes, challenges. Even I have been participating less and less. But I really do like these prompts, memes, challenges because it brings bloggers together.<br /> Also, I don't know why, I posted one of the words misspelled (and later corrected it) and now I feel stupid about it. I used spellcheck but for whatever reason, it didn't tell me that word was wrong the first few times until I do a re-spellcheck in a new document. No idea how that happened since both documents used the same app. Also, also, I could have made it easier on myself by writing the story first and then choose the prompts from the story but I decided to pick the prompts and then write the story using the prompts, like other participants. I don't like to take the easy way for these things even though I can. <br /><b><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;">How was your February? I hope March is being good to you.</span></b><br /><br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-68589657795924117472024-02-28T18:47:00.003-05:002024-02-28T18:47:50.928-05:00Fiction: Destination: Heaven, Maybe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s900/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="900" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s16000/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" width="550" /></a></div><p><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Fiction: Destination: Heaven, Maybe</span></b><br />Today, Q sits back in the large and comfortable leather seat and sips delicious coffee with no care which direction they are heading. Music plays quietly like echos from a distance dream. Q doesn't have to wonder where it comes from or whether anyone else hears it. Each passenger has their own music unless they shared the same destination which is rare. Sunshine pours in through the oval windows and fills the cabin with warmth and light. Passengers are talking to each other with a cheerful, carefree attitude while a few stare into space with smiles on their faces. There is plenty of space that each passenger is almost in their own little nook as if the plane's space is infinite.<br /> The pilot announces people who wants to nap may do so at their convenient and that flight attendants will be offering blankets and pillows. Tomorrow, every passenger is going to a destination of their choice and not just anywhere but somewhere they have all dreamed of going once in a lifetime.<br /> But not Q. About two months ago when Q died and appeared at the waiting lounge, a woman in gray had told him there had been a glitch somewhere and his flight is delayed in a way. He could get on a plane but he would not go anywhere but at the lounge but she insisted he must keep riding planes until he finally gets somewhere or else stay in the waiting lounge for eternity.<br /> There are two departures from the waiting lounge: one marked <i>heaven</i> and the second marked <i>other.</i> For those who try to go to <i>heaven</i> but is destined for <i>other</i>, they would be forced back and placid-faced people in gray would appear and drag them through the <i>other</i> gateway. Most people has an instinct of which gateway to choose and for Q, <i>heaven</i> is where he has a strong desire to go.<br /> Most days, Q rides the plane and meets all sorts of individuals, gets a drift of their dreams and regrets and then watches them move on. Other days, he is an invisible passenger where no one speaks to him and he speaks to no one.<br /> But Q hasn't just been riding planes this whole time. While at the lounge, he has read 41 books from the shelves that changed every few days. He has watched 11 tv shows and 52 movies. He has taken 33 long naps in the various mini rooms. He has walked around the lounge 17 times in hopes of seeing other exits but there are none. He has even tried the snacks from the vending machines though he is never hungry. The only thing that makes his days less repetitive are the changing landscapes from the wall to ceiling windows. Now and then he speaks briefly to one or two people but they just hurry along not wanting to stop and chat. Time still moves on though his watch doesn't work and there are no clocks anywhere.<br /> Once, out of desperation and the sudden panic he might stay in the lounge forever, Q went through the gateway marked <i>other</i>. The plane ride was as expected - like hell. The coffee was extra bad and extra bitter. The passengers were never in a good mood and were often yelling at each other. The seats seemed to be make of sharp rocks. Space was tight as if the plane was growing smaller with each passing hour. Flight attendants sat in their own little space in the back and sipped coffee while ignoring all calls from the passengers. In between the loud music that could blow out ear drums, the pilots kept announcing they might crash while the plane shook with intensity. Eventually, they arrived in a rather wonky landing and Q and the other passengers rushed to get off. Q was relieved whe he reappeared at the lounge.<br /> Today, Q stares out the window at a field of soft clouds. He wonders if the 28th time might be the charm. The music changes to a more upbeat tone. <br /> "Don't you just love that music?"<br /> Q turns to his left. Across the aisle, a woman steers her large green eyes toward him. The faint lines beneath her eyes speaks of someone who has laughed plenty. <i>She has heard his music! </i>He nods. "Yes, it reminds me of home." Where his parents used to play that very song and kiss and dance all around the living room.<br /> "Same here. Except, it wasn't my home, just one of my friend's. His parents were a bit lovey-dovey but I liked them." She smiles at Q.<br /> This must be R. He is sure of it. Has he been waiting for her this whole time? Perhaps the 28th time is the charm.<br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~</p><p>This months's <b>Words for Wednesday</b> prompts are provided by me <a href="https://postcardsfromthebookstore.blogspot.com/2024/02/words-for-wednesday-prompts-feb-28-2024.html"><b>over here</b></a>. This week's prompts are: <i>tomorrow, coffee, direction, echo, sunshine</i><br /><br /></p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-1037639274182024112024-02-27T08:00:00.001-05:002024-02-27T08:00:00.138-05:00Words for Wednesday Prompts - Feb 28, 2024<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5fySIKtSAL-9wEraweBl2su6GWOPMSG3I_3Xfj7NaH82KKwyT8n4ugjpQxWP7XrFW2X-nJlZiEGarQeBR9Of0WW9PsXF1VlzFnU6DjM1y6-tI5J6ybBqQ4lDqiDq-PnokrfXLH04R213JNjDY70DfFt0ZjyYZy5Tf5y4CXZin-ffJ9q2YdAsVtqx/s900/wordsforwed2024sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img alt="scrabble tiles spelling words for wednesday" border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="900" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5fySIKtSAL-9wEraweBl2su6GWOPMSG3I_3Xfj7NaH82KKwyT8n4ugjpQxWP7XrFW2X-nJlZiEGarQeBR9Of0WW9PsXF1VlzFnU6DjM1y6-tI5J6ybBqQ4lDqiDq-PnokrfXLH04R213JNjDY70DfFt0ZjyYZy5Tf5y4CXZin-ffJ9q2YdAsVtqx/s16000/wordsforwed2024sm.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>This <b>February</b>, I am the host for <b>Words for Wednesday</b>. <i>Words for Wednesday</i> was started by Delores and now is being continued by various bloggers with <b><a href="https://myjustsostory.blogspot.com/">Elephant's Child</a></b> as our coordinator. The aim of <i>Words for Wednesday</i> is to encourage us to write using some or all of the prompts. <br /><span> </span>You may write your piece in the comments or post it on your blog. If
posting on your blog, please leave a direct link to the post so we can
all visit you. <b>Have fun writing!</b><br /><br /><b>This week's prompts are:</b><br />1. tomorrow<br />2. coffee<br />3. direction<br />4. echo<br />5. sunshine<br />
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<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px; text-align: center;">
This is my last week hosting <i>Words for Wednesday</i>. <b>For March prompts, River will be providing the prompts and they will be hosted at her blog,<a href="https://river-driftingthroughlife.blogspot.com/"> <i>Drifting through life</i>.</a></b></div>
<br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-84644922143969004642024-02-26T18:30:00.001-05:002024-02-26T18:31:14.766-05:00Retro Minute #12: Honest Taglines For My Blog <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the twelfth post from various previous blogs. There have been a couple of versions of this list so I compiled them into one post.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5bzBSd7diVxnYFkfTaqz2U2UGTJgCG5MlkXBOAxMK_DYoMinJs62dOdhUG5WrPfZoseeCPZZE8uNTMrwIpJeXK2rTRGW5SU2Gk0FLf5ACaxzKUXwcQQBjwvoKVfBhCyLe1yjvJXcsZuwUX8TKQMyumJ49boQu8WL59I_NwwTv12BIONQyf29FK11n/s1016/unpopularbadge2024.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="1000" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5bzBSd7diVxnYFkfTaqz2U2UGTJgCG5MlkXBOAxMK_DYoMinJs62dOdhUG5WrPfZoseeCPZZE8uNTMrwIpJeXK2rTRGW5SU2Gk0FLf5ACaxzKUXwcQQBjwvoKVfBhCyLe1yjvJXcsZuwUX8TKQMyumJ49boQu8WL59I_NwwTv12BIONQyf29FK11n/s16000/unpopularbadge2024.png" width="250" /></a></div><p><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Honest Taglines For My Blog</span></b><span style="color: #0b5394;"> (So-sorry-it's-so-long Edition)</span><br /></p><p>01 | blogging without coffee since 2006</p><p>02 | memos from a cranky but slightly fanatic blogger </p><p>03 | pretending to work while pretending to blog</p><p>04 | newly redesigned to be 87% less productive than ever before</p><p> 05 | have blog, will only semi-post </p><p>06 | complaining from a respectable distance</p><p>07 | the secret society for introverts and other shy species</p><p>08 | pretending to blog like a professional since 2006</p><p>09 | posting things that I am not ashamed to share, at least, not right away</p><p>10 | tiny joys and other tangible things</p><p>12 | wasting time until something else comes along to waste more time</p><p>13 | blogging for chocolate</p><p>14 | honestly talking about nothing and being honest about it</p><p>15 | have blog, will only semi-work</p><p>16 | procrastinating silently & sometimes with bits of noise</p><p>17 | no coffee, lots of tea, whine & nonsense</p><p>18 | daily somethings + other tiny joys</p><p>19 | under new management since 2006 which coincidentally is the same management except crankier and wordier</p><p>20 | pretending to drink coffee while blogging</p><p>21 | this is not a blog but a secret society for people who don't like to talk</p><p>22 | sharing & whining like an amateur extrovert</p><p>23 | pretending to blog while watching youtube</p><p>24 | curating art, books, words & other stuff</p><p>25 | silently procrastinating while noisily pretending to be busy</p><p>26 | unpopular since 2006</p><p>27 | blogging ridiculously slow since 2006<br /><br /><b>What's your honest tagline for your blog?</b><br /><br /><i>Note: I started blogging in 2006 and I don't drink coffee. </i><br /></p><p></p>
lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-45436333798075054242024-02-25T11:37:00.000-05:002024-02-25T11:37:30.680-05:00Retro Minute #11: Are you somebody I know?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the eleventh post from February 21, 2014 from <i>Sleepwalking in NY </i>blog. Note: I didn't see this doppelganger of mine again after awhile so who knows. I might have imagined her.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5lrDCNDZMsIaxoN8-Pjou0KEgO3CHHVBZwJAXw4sGD2igUmInAQyC6rhKGtlxaDSaur1vxnKExkCo8gl3jlSTVrdC1uTvqhghZfVXUiMhcC_NVv7KHZ1FxyV1HFRoH9LTqr1SvNEa7IQgaDVN3PIN1OmWK3-52g1rfEz0HKVkH_syiA9LJGwozXZ/s880/sleepwalkhedmarD.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="880" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5lrDCNDZMsIaxoN8-Pjou0KEgO3CHHVBZwJAXw4sGD2igUmInAQyC6rhKGtlxaDSaur1vxnKExkCo8gl3jlSTVrdC1uTvqhghZfVXUiMhcC_NVv7KHZ1FxyV1HFRoH9LTqr1SvNEa7IQgaDVN3PIN1OmWK3-52g1rfEz0HKVkH_syiA9LJGwozXZ/w640-h174/sleepwalkhedmarD.png" width="640" /></a></div><b><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;">Are you somebody I know?</span></b><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfxPYThL1fYGnov0haSLT2Fdd3j0BWPlp4G2vJYIE07rVsxLMm9nptiR9_cjb19FS-ahQfszOLTGigLdpnMG9pg3m4g7V4ow1XiD6txGThK25iiO2nqVqq7MWeneN6ZsAD5DL_dsmK1RU-JGo-JNqyFuQhmPnX41nYkiYP7wg6L0LkjE3dWg_P5p0A/s530/twinquote2.png" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img alt="“Wherever I go, I run into myself.” ― Dejan Stojanovic, The Shape" border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfxPYThL1fYGnov0haSLT2Fdd3j0BWPlp4G2vJYIE07rVsxLMm9nptiR9_cjb19FS-ahQfszOLTGigLdpnMG9pg3m4g7V4ow1XiD6txGThK25iiO2nqVqq7MWeneN6ZsAD5DL_dsmK1RU-JGo-JNqyFuQhmPnX41nYkiYP7wg6L0LkjE3dWg_P5p0A/s16000/twinquote2.png" /></a></div>I saw my doppelganger the other day. She wore a long black coat and an ivory-colored newsboy hat. She stood as tall as I was. Even as I tried to steer my eyes away, I could not help but glance at her.<br /> I have seen her many times before as if she is following me or maybe I'm following her instead? Perhaps I might even have seen her for than a couple of years but only now have I come to realize she is more me than me. She dresses like me in dull colors and carries a white shoulder bag crisscrossed over her shoulder. She bends her head like me in that wandering and shy way. She even have the same habit of dinning at the same two cafes during lunch hours.<br /> Sometimes I think about introducing myself to her and befriending her but I fear of what her response might be. Perhaps she will bluntly turn me away or perhaps she will hate the fact that I'm like her or she is like me. And then I would have to leave quietly, ashamed for even talking to her.<br /> Perhaps it is best not to know what she is really like. Even if I do speak to her, what would I say? What does one say to not sound like a crazy loon and at the same time elicit a good response? Hello? That is as far as I get when it comes to introducing myself. I have a terrible habit of becoming silent after an introduction. And besides, I'm so bad at small talk as my replies would be very brief. Thoughts swing through my head often but they don't stick around for me to even use them.<br /> Perhaps once I get out my hello, she would have already decided I'm no one to befriend and walk away. Perhaps she will be polite about it and afterward, she will avoid me like the plague. Or perhaps she would not respond at all as she, like other people, likes to wear her headphone sometimes and will not hear me talk.<br /> Twice, I was mistaken for someone else. Once was from some teenage boy who seemed to know me but I don't remember meeting him. Another time was a middle-age man whom upon seeing me, started speaking about something that I have absolutely no clue of and then he walked off saying goodbye as if he will see me again. I don't know either person. If I did, wouldn't I have some memory of them? I didn't have any response to anything they said but I silently thought, "Who the hell are you and why are you talking to me?" Perhaps they have mistook me for her, my doppelganger?<br /><br /><b>So I ask you, if you happen to meet yourself or your doppelganger, what would you say?</b><br /><br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-19262496053401541062024-02-24T09:55:00.000-05:002024-02-24T09:55:11.838-05:00Retro Minute #10: Some abstract photography<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts </span></b>from previous blogs. Here's the tenth post from <i>Postcards from the clouds</i> blog.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3kc_3rtjPNAHwPnO0EBg_tSLUHOdHKhlPwNSPXL2sHQt5tegeNy-FbcqvSH-1Ry7phPShPShIUIVVkIGMHeYxhZOEOIF_JvRmB8SYXc0qsup_oYyTb-m4hWFWadWRDLNZxykVD8OZNjUaM38iNphu_DnwAUFrE1KeKAEGtZABYYkn4xYOyELJcWw/s797/postbanneraug2.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="797" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3kc_3rtjPNAHwPnO0EBg_tSLUHOdHKhlPwNSPXL2sHQt5tegeNy-FbcqvSH-1Ry7phPShPShIUIVVkIGMHeYxhZOEOIF_JvRmB8SYXc0qsup_oYyTb-m4hWFWadWRDLNZxykVD8OZNjUaM38iNphu_DnwAUFrE1KeKAEGtZABYYkn4xYOyELJcWw/s16000/postbanneraug2.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Some abstract photography<br /></span></b>Would you call these abstract photography? Here some of my favorite shots. Click on the image for a larger view.<br /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="820" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo3fo8PtCSqjNxfpkkwhOXOxRE0OPMr690b2rPSUlgdfhNS9WAEPFNBPMA8ElIeoGIN5gNksf6vldJi-hwLCoV3sb4WNvzyptluknOe9ToOmUvAesX2sEUylgJqD1rAcuXViIcTMuhxA0kLWAQ-v2V8uhxQ0rfKLINpo9n7Wcx7lhPGCjpsSNLZnZt/w400-h190/062408wa03b.jpg" width="400" /><br />01 - partition that divides a street with holes that were weathered, 06.24.2008</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrYaLhPyR0sYfm6oBLkidceCZFqk58FrfvLJJnEL_UehhkKTYxwCIQ09yt3ZVCnekcSDqpBT2UtxLk7EG0j-UMB1uPz2tuAjquQJs9O-LBsojVU6Hdq4qblYV6MDDXv_3L3qKiRr2E9bKfACCkfIQ2h_zbb3fIBICRLtlSR9iScqZCikJHvUgjbMO/s820/083107ab01.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="820" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrYaLhPyR0sYfm6oBLkidceCZFqk58FrfvLJJnEL_UehhkKTYxwCIQ09yt3ZVCnekcSDqpBT2UtxLk7EG0j-UMB1uPz2tuAjquQJs9O-LBsojVU6Hdq4qblYV6MDDXv_3L3qKiRr2E9bKfACCkfIQ2h_zbb3fIBICRLtlSR9iScqZCikJHvUgjbMO/w400-h288/083107ab01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">02 - sunlight on wall, color is altered, 08.31.2007<br /></div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="820" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfTWCyiEH9zZRhtokdEr2uW4xpgxJJxGE0y-6emSQNX2M7X3vBob2-q19yX4kFRJnF7HK_m99kPhWrrD52koRe1qq_94YUNOrhvWZFE6RjGY8T9BDa1II3v-yOxTZ49RYRsVB-JDJpVE_u7JkJysgki9VBuKgf1aDGMaF29Ke7yT7eGT1S9yln3lt/w400-h339/090207pa09d2b.jpg" width="400" /><br />03 - a piece of paper curled up, color is altered, 09.02.2007</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrtYUqO9-q7HyXcffVTb5t_auzyLRAfANjw6MO6CZR9VeuTW7ZdX_4TT5Lap81OIO7Rx8XdzBPimziNGRBabr0eMXjGNRQFBV8F7CpVljdzi7_rTvUZeQ_ksyeNOWchcvrXIkBEA2n0ohzYR9lX3Bl0sgDit9YXXD6vaHPJ4oVl2SB5f2qCCn2fed/s820/100908te01d.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="563" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrtYUqO9-q7HyXcffVTb5t_auzyLRAfANjw6MO6CZR9VeuTW7ZdX_4TT5Lap81OIO7Rx8XdzBPimziNGRBabr0eMXjGNRQFBV8F7CpVljdzi7_rTvUZeQ_ksyeNOWchcvrXIkBEA2n0ohzYR9lX3Bl0sgDit9YXXD6vaHPJ4oVl2SB5f2qCCn2fed/w275-h400/100908te01d.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">04 - an old phone booth, color is altered, 10.09.2008 <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="820" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7lODyAAILEOkbwpWVyEGELP_KVD-KtFWGRu9R49us54NPL_uKANZc6Y38oKGnda9CGm4ZIOo66Kb9Db43qn5MDbAVVjG-IKvpzPq0YTLPCISksfGZRIhRowmy-MfHTaNkm4YV6HmWFPZItAa8SEpl5n7JC1xmzUS5gBcX0muRZaS2TR3s55F-btWc/w400-h300/102407ab010.jpg" width="400" /><br />05 - city lights shot while moving the camera, 10.24.2007 </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-29831472491902330882024-02-23T08:55:00.001-05:002024-02-23T08:55:34.603-05:00Retro Minute #9: Emergency instructions for managing your anger <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the ninth post from November 2012 from <i>Don't rain on Mondays</i> blog.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ1Bs5HUTi7PJXhLV-F8qsTX8ny4vsQJxbPNUMHwSqkDxtiG7ocVAcpmxRsa1BpeyovXyf6E-e9ihJ2hIcE8OD5JRmjInwPU3VhhVANKdi-QQB_u8xI7zH-Ufd3RbKbmOUgpX_1HXvNjNhEf1tlS-qvtKJKFBvPO3GgDNhhBWFWy-NVDPyvX4lqlkq/s685/dontrainhddec3.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="685" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ1Bs5HUTi7PJXhLV-F8qsTX8ny4vsQJxbPNUMHwSqkDxtiG7ocVAcpmxRsa1BpeyovXyf6E-e9ihJ2hIcE8OD5JRmjInwPU3VhhVANKdi-QQB_u8xI7zH-Ufd3RbKbmOUgpX_1HXvNjNhEf1tlS-qvtKJKFBvPO3GgDNhhBWFWy-NVDPyvX4lqlkq/s16000/dontrainhddec3.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Emergency instructions for managing your anger <br /></span></b>This was written for Alphabe-Thursday for the letter E and it was hosted by <a href="http://jennymatlock.blogspot.com/2012/06/alphabe-thursday-letter-e.html">Jenny Matlock over here.</a><br /><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJ4eTHVIZS9JfqrUcgy2bJNzEGRHEcKJ0TUTuDKM4f7D9YrjM-crOK8pNlGg5qw36A0sYGp8d2ETQ59e6lm2Lrmwz0bSreklnEBelYzXG1L-xrpi5Z2GXoJ8yrhXV0QmN24wKoCeUpsBGRfbCyi2OnK5ZtQO2YuLUO4SagGlDdzO_GVMNyXkdTcTm/s1238/freakoutsm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="freak out & throw stuff" border="0" data-original-height="1238" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJ4eTHVIZS9JfqrUcgy2bJNzEGRHEcKJ0TUTuDKM4f7D9YrjM-crOK8pNlGg5qw36A0sYGp8d2ETQ59e6lm2Lrmwz0bSreklnEBelYzXG1L-xrpi5Z2GXoJ8yrhXV0QmN24wKoCeUpsBGRfbCyi2OnK5ZtQO2YuLUO4SagGlDdzO_GVMNyXkdTcTm/w233-h320/freakoutsm.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>For the Pessimist </b><br />01: Take a timeout to think of who to blame<br />02: Once you're calm, express your anger by cursing everything & everyone near you<br />03: Get some exercise by drinking alcohol and getting into fights<br />04: Think before you speak but do it very loudly<br />05: Identify possible solutions by picking out who to blame<br />06: Stick with 'I' statements and tell those suckers where to stick their I's, P's & Q's<br />07: Don't hold a grudge on the inside, do it on the outside by treating everyone like crap<br />08: Use humor to release tension by laughing at everyone<br />09: Practice relaxation skills by punching pillows and throwing inexpensive stuff<br />10: Know when to seek help so someday you can give real names to the police for who's really responsible for your angry-crime-filled rampage<br /><br />OPTIONAL:<br />11: Forget all of the above and just freak out & throw stuff<br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ <br /><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg8ShopI33CD5LbFt3T7gteCPWKX7Xqrifv1ZubBH3W7c0xE0K2helBwtad-ffk3xYrJfS0eDGZQWYRW1zi_o7Swx6cYmLU2hdCl20XSM3-P_SiOb87YIYvwYYkatJQ8O8EC9DV_9Y7l8-u6MKj2FT7hZwlflm1Gn5SEssZn3DkTSguzD1ZzH7_oo5/s1238/thinkpositivesm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="keep calm and think positive" border="0" data-original-height="1238" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg8ShopI33CD5LbFt3T7gteCPWKX7Xqrifv1ZubBH3W7c0xE0K2helBwtad-ffk3xYrJfS0eDGZQWYRW1zi_o7Swx6cYmLU2hdCl20XSM3-P_SiOb87YIYvwYYkatJQ8O8EC9DV_9Y7l8-u6MKj2FT7hZwlflm1Gn5SEssZn3DkTSguzD1ZzH7_oo5/w233-h320/thinkpositivesm.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>For the Optimist </b><br />01: Take a timeout to remind yourself it's nothing you can't handle<br />02: Once you're calm, express your anger by being positive<br />03: Get some exercise by taking a walk with an enthusiastic mindset<br />04: Think positively before you speak<br />05: Identify possible solutions by picking out who to laugh with<br />06: Stick with 'I' statements and tell those around you that you're alright<br />07: Don't hold a grudge on the inside, do it on the outside by doing things that clogs your mind so you can't think of anything negative<br />08: Use humor to release tension by laughing at yourself<br />09: Practice relaxation skills by going kite flying and thinking positively<br />10: Know when to seek help but it's nothing to worry about<br /><br />OPTIONAL:<br />11: Forget all of the above and just keep calm and think positive<br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ <br /><br /><i>Note: The above is just for fun and not meant to be taken seriously. The Mayo Clinic has the real list <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/anger-management/MH00102">over here.</a></i><br /><p></p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-70939765555426147752024-02-22T08:25:00.001-05:002024-02-22T08:25:32.265-05:00Retro Minute #8: Wallflower<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts </span></b>from previous blogs. Here's the eighth post from June2 4, 2010 from <i>Just writing words</i> blog. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWowh4Vg0d0Pfwi-t3CGJ93JxkvhRtdiMu7mEd86szdFHhUJy2lrQv0xCPWR9u4959MnhzyeYrImLLlfAhHX4WqKivdazq3-ZbHjx8VmRD1W9BJ5cidqiTjQcee7-exaQNppYKHMDGASiYLrtfYHHO28SnERnnjU0nq1O9GCPkDhx3UHwzI5xbEB3z/s632/justwwhdjuly03b.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="154" data-original-width="632" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWowh4Vg0d0Pfwi-t3CGJ93JxkvhRtdiMu7mEd86szdFHhUJy2lrQv0xCPWR9u4959MnhzyeYrImLLlfAhHX4WqKivdazq3-ZbHjx8VmRD1W9BJ5cidqiTjQcee7-exaQNppYKHMDGASiYLrtfYHHO28SnERnnjU0nq1O9GCPkDhx3UHwzI5xbEB3z/s16000/justwwhdjuly03b.jpg" width="600" /></a></div>I don't remember if I created this art for this poem or perhaps I created the art and then write the words? But they seem to go together.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnanZeVSoCbfGcIesS2k1z3KgdpXi1g8hHioMcrpKO41ggcnPTDvddhDPhGLwxYs2Ox3Rj1KcSrJGJHPqaZY96cfsiKTVXhB0rC90SK1ElDVfh3gMSXHDoTAGHsSccdTzPODP9jZKIIApo/s1171/wallpapergirlyellow_bsm.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="drawing of girl against floral wall patterns" border="0" data-original-height="1171" data-original-width="900" height="651" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnanZeVSoCbfGcIesS2k1z3KgdpXi1g8hHioMcrpKO41ggcnPTDvddhDPhGLwxYs2Ox3Rj1KcSrJGJHPqaZY96cfsiKTVXhB0rC90SK1ElDVfh3gMSXHDoTAGHsSccdTzPODP9jZKIIApo/s16000/wallpapergirlyellow_bsm.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">wallpaper girl</td></tr></tbody></table><p><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Wallflower </span></b><br /><br />I don't live here, who can say<br />I casually occupy this life, this space<br />a room within another room<br />where sometimes I am awake<br />sometimes I am asleep<br /><br />I don't live here, not really<br />all my possessions packed inside tiny boxes<br />lined and stacked against the corners<br />rearrange now and then<br />to change my horizon<br /><br />I don't live here, how can you tell<br />when I blend in so easily<br />a wallpaper with no patterns<br />a small form with no shape<br />a blurred shadow barely seen<br />inside someone's eye<br /><br />I don't live here, can it be true<br />am I a stranger within another stranger<br />a drift of a whisper among whispers<br />sometimes I become easily recognized<br />as being part of the living<br />a body among millions<br />I come and I go<br />forever in the motion of moving<br /><br />I don't live here, not really<br />now and then<br />if you stand close enough<br />you can almost hear me<br />a small cry in the careless wind<br />a whim of a gentle spirit<br />I slowly merge with everything<br />if anyone ask<br />I don't live here<br />is what I'll say</p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-12812712797231159692024-02-21T18:25:00.002-05:002024-02-21T18:57:31.412-05:00Fiction: The Wedding Gown<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjnyYtjpYLpU_xEXT3fDINS28Ld6gyFs7MU_vl4zgboRlQU0dmi82CLUZ2RXP0r6xqbW6oXHigjRN9OveEg7YpMoVJENZzYya4xuf-3H1K8p-TsmrCbLXFe8tKFmwNK2zfdL_AJ0rW-t3LuUDwnUhqUgW9w1W8zadOQcSTsvOYeWbYG2tEItxw6ko/s1304/1977.49GirlSewingMachineHopper.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1304" data-original-width="1250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjnyYtjpYLpU_xEXT3fDINS28Ld6gyFs7MU_vl4zgboRlQU0dmi82CLUZ2RXP0r6xqbW6oXHigjRN9OveEg7YpMoVJENZzYya4xuf-3H1K8p-TsmrCbLXFe8tKFmwNK2zfdL_AJ0rW-t3LuUDwnUhqUgW9w1W8zadOQcSTsvOYeWbYG2tEItxw6ko/w384-h400/1977.49GirlSewingMachineHopper.jpg" width="384" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.museothyssen.org/en/collection/artists/hopper-edward/girl-sewing-machine">Girl at a Sewing Machine by Edward Hopper<br /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><b>Fiction: The Wedding Gown<br /></b>It was Juliet's wedding day and yet, it was not. Her original plan had gone astray. Instead of walking down the aisle, she had sat at her sewing machine altering her gown for another. Juliet's usual respond to anything unhappy was to sew and forget the world. She was a seamstress after all. But it was not easy to forget what she had gone through. Time had not made the memory dimmer nor eased her ache.<br /> Juliet's grandmother had always said living requires a leap of faith but whatever you do, you can't fight fate - it could never be denied what it was meant to do. At 29, she was not stale, at least to her but others thought she should've been married by now. It wasn't as if she could magically find a mate just by believing.<br /> Six months later at the wedding, Juliet stood about enjoying a glass of champagne while the bride and groom were exchanging vows. After they kissed and parted, the sky suddenly darkened. Frogs appeared followed by dogs, cats, wolves and other furry creatures. Dogs and wolves toppled the nine layered wedding cake. Goats started eating the food on the tables while small grey rats crashed wine bottles. Flower arrangements here and there were getting some workout from the cats. Dishes were used as frisbees by some raccoons. The guests ran frantically about trying to escape the animals who were getting a bit too friendly. Overhead, thunder sounded. Dark clouds appeared and darkened the day to almost night. Someone grabbed Juliet's arm and pulled her inside the hotel. The glass slipped from her hand. Rain fell down like rocks flattening tables and chairs. The arch, decorated with white roses, collapsed to the ground and the fabric hanging above it flew upward, looking like a patch of white cloud among the darkness. Through the hotel wall to ceiling windows, Juliet stared at it for a moment before it flew out of her view. Something popped like an explosion. The pink and blue balloons attached to poles were popping due to the heavy rain.<br /> This unusual weather had surprised everyone. It was summer and every weather station said it was going to be sunny all week.<br /> There were cries through the chaos. One outranked them. It came from the bride. The wind had kicked up the skirt of her gown and all the world could see what color underwear she was wearing. Her husband kept pushing the fabric down while trying to shield her face from the rain. Birds began to peck at the bride's floral crown. The groom tried to swipe at the birds but they took off with the crown. He grabbed the bride's hand and ran. Lightning struck at them at every step. By the time they were inside, the bride's gown was scorched in a few places and dirt covered most of it and the wearer. The groom appeared to have lost a shoe and his white suit was a dark shade of brown. Most guests appeared as if they had ran through mud and hair styled using a supercharged blow-dryer.<br /> Juliet kept her lips pressed tightly together so as not to laugh. When she was altering the dress, she had thoughts. Wild thoughts of animals and a windstorm disrupting the wedding. She glanced over at her former fiancé and his bride who was once Juliet's best friend. He turned his head and met her eyes. Was there accusation in his eyes? She turned away.<br /> Someone was still holding onto her. She loosened her arm away and looked up. The man was the bride's brother. "Some wedding, eh?" he said with a slight grin at the corner of his mouth. She nodded. <i>Some wedding.</i> Her grandmother had also said never wear a wedding gown made for another especially not if it once belonged to a jilted bride-to-be.<br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br /><br />This month's <b>Words for Wednesday</b> prompts are provided by me <b><a href="https://postcardsfromthebookstore.blogspot.com/2024/02/words-for-wednesday-prompts-feb-21-2024.html">over here.</a></b> This week's prompts are: leap, original, unusual, 29, time.<br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-37392520333645106342024-02-20T08:00:00.001-05:002024-02-20T08:00:00.343-05:00Words for Wednesday Prompts - Feb 21, 2024<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5fySIKtSAL-9wEraweBl2su6GWOPMSG3I_3Xfj7NaH82KKwyT8n4ugjpQxWP7XrFW2X-nJlZiEGarQeBR9Of0WW9PsXF1VlzFnU6DjM1y6-tI5J6ybBqQ4lDqiDq-PnokrfXLH04R213JNjDY70DfFt0ZjyYZy5Tf5y4CXZin-ffJ9q2YdAsVtqx/s900/wordsforwed2024sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img alt="scrabble tiles spelling words for wednesday" border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="900" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5fySIKtSAL-9wEraweBl2su6GWOPMSG3I_3Xfj7NaH82KKwyT8n4ugjpQxWP7XrFW2X-nJlZiEGarQeBR9Of0WW9PsXF1VlzFnU6DjM1y6-tI5J6ybBqQ4lDqiDq-PnokrfXLH04R213JNjDY70DfFt0ZjyYZy5Tf5y4CXZin-ffJ9q2YdAsVtqx/s16000/wordsforwed2024sm.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>This <b>February</b>, I am the host for <b>Words for Wednesday</b>. <i>Words for Wednesday</i> was started by Delores and now is being continued by various bloggers with <b><a href="https://myjustsostory.blogspot.com/">Elephant's Child</a></b> as our coordinator. The aim of <i>Words for Wednesday</i> is to encourage us to write using some or all of the prompts. <br /><span> </span>You may write your piece in the comments or post it on your blog. If
posting on your blog, please leave a direct link to the post so we can
all visit you. <b>Have fun writing!</b><br /><br /><b>This week's prompts are:</b><br />1. leap<br />2. original<br />3. unusual<br />4. 29<br />5. time<b><br /></b><br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-31738049852412474832024-02-18T10:00:00.000-05:002024-02-18T10:05:35.242-05:00Retro Minute #7: Your Horoscope From the Past <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts from previous blogs. </span></b>Here's the seventh post from April 9, 2019 from <i>The memory of rain/The memory tourist </i>blog.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRiroi4oPKMqf5snSFqjzIACj1Rja-ZxH23pLgDbawXUFodjNo2MdE9pDOXV5MXqEqI_LWLIzgB2LuX76IozqUB3T8LL8hdDQMNLtb2e1BtzqBhgGsku2OiTiebml00QPA3m9acXYYtnWimgOp__cNMxnixFTHOy76gSa3lNmwSgl12JhF8TQ082i/s900/memorytouriss_hedmay2021B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="323" data-original-width="900" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRiroi4oPKMqf5snSFqjzIACj1Rja-ZxH23pLgDbawXUFodjNo2MdE9pDOXV5MXqEqI_LWLIzgB2LuX76IozqUB3T8LL8hdDQMNLtb2e1BtzqBhgGsku2OiTiebml00QPA3m9acXYYtnWimgOp__cNMxnixFTHOy76gSa3lNmwSgl12JhF8TQ082i/s16000/memorytouriss_hedmay2021B.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><br /><span style="color: #0b5394;">Your Horoscope From the Past </span></b><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnA5mX8x4CC4aTXych8odrBQb0oKGsnZ5NB9WsytC7AFivNlxeV9Jt3hVr-SH3zMn-2IODLkJHxx4pUMzM84Umi0ZSZCEUZT1McByLUWGrjT42hAXA1BD65LysbDZMNUksfx920imVOUU/s1600/aquariusclrcropsm2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="664" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnA5mX8x4CC4aTXych8odrBQb0oKGsnZ5NB9WsytC7AFivNlxeV9Jt3hVr-SH3zMn-2IODLkJHxx4pUMzM84Umi0ZSZCEUZT1McByLUWGrjT42hAXA1BD65LysbDZMNUksfx920imVOUU/s1600/aquariusclrcropsm2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'aquarius' (background astro signs by <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Astro_signs.svg">Tavmjong</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here's your horoscope from your past though we can't say if this is from your past life or your current life but either way, your past is set. But remember our motto:<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b> read it yesterday, forget it today.</b></span><br />
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01/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Aries</b> (March 21 - April 19)</span><br />
Your great-great-aunt from your mother's side left you a fortune on the condition that you race against a monkey. Unfortunately you lost but don't worry, the monkey knew how to spent his fortune. There is now a museum for bananas in New Mexico.</div>
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02/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Taurus</b> (April 20 - May 20)</span><br />
You've lost everything and almost gone into depression but thanks to an advice from a stranger, you've got yourself a home near the airport and even made a friend, only, you can never ask him why his hair is like that.</div>
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03/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Gemini </b>(May 21 - June 20)</span><br />
Some horrible family secret exploded and you were left to handle the aftermath. But due to your youthful nature, you fought tirelessly and you're perfectly fine other than the fact that you now live in a trailer and own a huge fishing boat that doesn't work.</div>
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04/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Cancer </b>(June 21 - July 22)</span><br />
Your not-so-nice-relatives got you into a great debt. But you've survived and you've paid off the debt only now your relatives think you're the go-to-person for everything. But be kind to your great-uncle, he may leave you his collection of donkey memorabilia. </div>
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05/<br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Leo </b>(July 23 - August 22)</span><br />
Your current relationship collapsed. You soon met someone else who is better for you, only that, he/she had a weird assumption that you can buy them anything.</div>
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06/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Virgo</b> (August 23 - September 22)</span><br />
The love of your life left you a strange vibe after a long weekend but soon, you found out why. But you've stayed loyal and you're still together only now she/he eyes you with a look of distaste whenever you eat a steak.</div>
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07/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Libra </b>(September 23 - October 22)</span><br />
You had to turn down a very lucrative job offer but a new offer came along soon after and you were happier for it for twenty-six seconds. Then you realized you've got a job that made you very unhappy but don't worry, your unhappiness will only last forty-seven years.</div>
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08/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Scorpio </b>(October 23 - November 21)</span><br />
You were stubborn enough to stick to your belief. Now you're a few hundred dollars shorter but at least you've still got your health and your very own vehicle though it only runs on your ability to steer with your toes.</div>
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09/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<b><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Sagittarius</span></b><span style="color: #3d85c6;"> (November 22 - December 21)</span><br />
Your overly generous nature caused your family to think they can take advantage of you and somehow got you into a mess that caused you to lose your house, your car, your job and even your friends. But good news, you no longer have to lend anyone money ever again and you still have your cat though he/she spends a lot of time away from you. </div>
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10/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Capricorn </b>(December 22 - January 19)</span><br />
An old friend remembered you in his/her will and left you a large sum of money. But you lost it in a week. You were neither rich nor poorer for it though you wished that friend had forgotten you. The view through your window with the steel bars is very limited.</div>
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11/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Aquarius </b>( January 20 - February18)</span><br />
You've lost a very precious item dear to you but don't worry, you found it again when you met someone in the rain pulling a sheep up a very steep road.</div>
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12/ <br />
<div style="border: 2px solid rgb(232, 232, 232); padding: 10px;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Pisces </b>(February 19 - March 20)</span><br />
After years of working at an old job, you finally got a chance at a new one. Unfortunely, you had to learn to ask people if they would like ketchup with their fries.</div>
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<i>Note: You know these are all nonsense, right? They are meant for fun.</i>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-73103526569667403362024-02-16T10:28:00.000-05:002024-02-16T10:28:55.216-05:00Fiction: The Insomniac Nighthawk 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s900/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="900" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s16000/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" width="550" /></a></div><b></b><i><a href="https://postcardsfromthebookstore.blogspot.com/2024/02/fiction-insomniac-nighthawk.html">First the part here.</a></i><b><br /><br />Fiction: The Insomniac Nighthawk 2<br /></b><br />I turned to the first page. The dedication was: <i>To my unkind wife: Thank you for 15 years of abuse and neglect. </i>What the hell?<br /> <span> </span>I kept on. A brief introduction by the author: <i>This is my book and yet, it's not. This is my great tribute to the literary society. I hope everyone would deem this the most perfect book they have ever read and if they don't, the hell with them. Sincerely, Stanley Denny.<span><a name='more'></a></span></i><br /> <span> </span>This guy was a bit egotistic, wasn't he? I turned the page. What I found was this:<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcVtpCChOGW_lXFcIfQ68Ts7lYVbBjWQkExSKyeCtLFCjC6Ut3nHMUC8q-qaL-08QqOuz9UcP3bn1cMNdclFLC99SHi0s6cwQQuCnRLoKcMpg19SdV7DjZP-BTz3oeiRiybE1sys8XZs1vk51bmaiv85NZnuM7RTqjh6ON9YDRlG5ssi26ya5nJU_C/s900/bookview.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="900" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcVtpCChOGW_lXFcIfQ68Ts7lYVbBjWQkExSKyeCtLFCjC6Ut3nHMUC8q-qaL-08QqOuz9UcP3bn1cMNdclFLC99SHi0s6cwQQuCnRLoKcMpg19SdV7DjZP-BTz3oeiRiybE1sys8XZs1vk51bmaiv85NZnuM7RTqjh6ON9YDRlG5ssi26ya5nJU_C/s16000/bookview.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><span> </span>I flipped through the pages. The whole title repeated over and over and some of the words are even upside down. The only thing that was different was the last page where it featured an illustration of a man carrying a pocket watch and above him were the words in large capital letters, THE END OF TIME. What the hell was this? Was this the book everyone coveted? <br /><span> </span>"Woo-woo" echoed above me. I looked up. A white owl with black feathers on its chest was flying above. Its glass eyes stared down at me. Then it flew away. What was an owl doing in a bookstore?<br /> The sound of footsteps came toward me. I looked up. <br /> "Uh-oh, did I disturb your reading? I swear I was as quiet as can be." The small woman smiled. Two eyes stared out at me from the pile of the woman's hair. No, those weren't just hair - a cat was perched on her head - its white fur blended perfectly with the woman's white hair.<br /> "Mr. Den— I mean, Winter, wanted me to get this for you." The woman placed the steaming white mug on the book pile to my left. I started to stand up.<br /> "Oh no, don't get up. Sit. Sit." The cat on her head purred. "I'm Mrs. Flip, one of Winter's employees."<br /> "Mrs. Flip?" I raised my eyebrows.<br /> "F-L-I-P. Flip." Mrs. Flip smiled. "And now I must go. I need to go and check on Yum-Yum, make sure he doesn't eat any more books." She smiled and turned to rush off.<br /> "Who's Yum-Yum?" I asked as I sat back down.<br /> "The baby yeti, of course!" came the answer as Mrs. Flip disappeared behind a bookshelf.<br /> Baby yeti? Here in a bookstore? Or was she kidding?<br /> I picked up the mug and took a sniff. Coffee. I smiled and took a slow sip. Coffee with honey and something I couldn't decide but I took another sip. Warmth ran through my body. I placed the mug back onto the book pile and flipped through the pages again. Was this book a joke? Had someone played a joke on me?<br /> "Yippee!" <br /> I couldn't tell which direction the cry was coming from. It was too quiet here. My own breathing seemed a tad too loud.<br /> "Yippee!" <br /> There it was again. I stood up. Over the piles of books and shelves, I couldn't see anyone. Someone must be reading something exciting. I sat back down on the steps. The paperback was in my hand and yet, I couldn't believe this book actually existed. I had read tons of unusual books but this had gone a bit too far. How could it had been printed?<br /> "Meh-eh-eh!"<br /> Was that a goat? I recalled seeing a goat as I walked the aisles but it had been my imagination hadn't it?<br /> "Oh, I didn't know anyone was back here. I'm sorry to interrupt, sir." The tall, young lady held a few hardcovers close to her chest. She was wearing a white shirt with a round collar underneath a dark green jacket and a long black skirt. Her auburn hair was parted in the center with plaits in back.<br /> I smiled at the lady. Where did she come from? "It's alright, ma'am. I'm just reading. And call me Fish."<br /> "Fish?" she chuckled, causing the little curls on her forehead to shake.<br /> "Yes, that's my name. Fish Lang. It's an odd name, I know." I smiled.<br /> She nodded. "You... do not call me ma'am. Call me Victoria..." Her eyes blinked rapidly. "I think I'll leave you to your space." <br /> "No, no, you don't have to go." I stood up.<br /> She raced away. Was I so unfriendly that everyone just wanted to leave me alone?<br /> I sighed and sat down again. I opened the paperback and looked again. There was no way I'm going to sell this to Ted's friend. Once he had a glance at it, he would immediately back out any deal. A coo sounded.<br /> "How do you like it?" said Winter. "Is it worth the pages it was printed on?"<br /> Did Winter made any sound? I didn't hear his footsteps. I shrugged. "Why is it written like that? And where is the time traveler or even the time travel?"<br /> "Ah, you believe a book should live up to its title then?" Winter tucked his hands into his pants' pockets.<br /> I nodded slowly. "Kind of..."<br /> "Before you ask, yes, that is the original print and yes, it was written like that. A lot of people came, read it, left it. Who wants to admit to paying for such a book even at such a low price?"<br /> "You could sell this for thousands or even millions."<br /> "I could but I don't care to make money off something I am not the least bit proud of. My great-grandfather was an egotistic man. This book only existed because his rich friends printed it as a joke but Stanley thought he had written the perfect book and yet, when he found out it wasn't, it didn't stop him from selling it to some fool. You don't want to know how much he got for it but it was certainly enough for him to live a couple of years drinking and gambling without problems."<br /> I flipped to the cover. "Stanley Denny was your great-grandfather?"<br /> Winter nodded. "Yes, I am ashamed to admit it. Honestly, I didn't want to admit to having any connection with the man. Now you know what the book is. Do you want to buy it?"<br /> I shook my head. Even if I can sell it to anyone, I would feel like a fool for doing it. I closed the book and stood up. "Take it back. I don't want to buy it." I held the book out toward him.<br /> Winter took it from me. "I thought I have to find another book to level that table but thanks to you, you save me the work."<br /> I smiled. Perhaps I had too much pride to buy the book.<br /> Winter put the paperback back under one of the table legs. He stood up and pushed his eyeglasses higher. "Hey, want to read something wild?" <br /> "Sure," I said. I got time. I didn't even have to work in a few hours.<br /> Winter sorted through the pile on the table. Then he threw a book at me. I caught it. It was a hardcover. "Try that. You might like it." He grinned. <br /> I checked out the title: How to stop worrying and enjoy being an insomniac. I smiled. There was a cooing sound. I looked up. An owl was circling above. It had the same black feathers on its chest as the owl before. It paused to glance at me and then flew off. I looked down. Winter was gone. He must had rushed off.<br /> A loud boom sounded and the floor shook. I grabbed the railing but the shaking had stopped. Winter's voice came over a speaker which I could not locate anywhere. "Dear readers, please forgive the disruption. Rest assure, that was not an earthquake. I repeat, that was not an earthquake. Carry on with your reading. Thank you and have a nice day."<br /> I laughed and sat down on one of the steps and opened the book. I might as well read and forget my worries for a spell.<br /> There was a slight tapping sound. "Um, sorry to interrupt again but we may have a problem. If paper airplanes started to appear out of nowhere, do not worry. As long as you avoid them, you won't get a paper cut. If necessary, move yourself elsewhere. Thank you for your understanding and have a nice day."<br /> I laughed. Was Winter serious? Something white fell at my feet. I picked it up. It was a paper airplane. More fell from above. I looked about but the airplanes were just appearing out of the air. Above, the elevated space was untouched. I picked up my mug and walked up the stairs and around the piles of books toward the elevated space and sat down in one of the chairs. The airplanes fell around me but I paid no attention to them as I started reading. <br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br /><br />This week's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by me <b><a href="https://postcardsfromthebookstore.blogspot.com/2024/02/words-for-wednesday-prompts-feb-14-2024.html">over here</a></b>. This week's prompts are: meh, woo, yum, uh-oh, yippee.lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-4443226971219901992024-02-13T08:00:00.001-05:002024-02-13T08:00:00.136-05:00Words for Wednesday Prompts - Feb 14, 2024<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5fySIKtSAL-9wEraweBl2su6GWOPMSG3I_3Xfj7NaH82KKwyT8n4ugjpQxWP7XrFW2X-nJlZiEGarQeBR9Of0WW9PsXF1VlzFnU6DjM1y6-tI5J6ybBqQ4lDqiDq-PnokrfXLH04R213JNjDY70DfFt0ZjyYZy5Tf5y4CXZin-ffJ9q2YdAsVtqx/s900/wordsforwed2024sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img alt="scrabble tiles spelling words for wednesday" border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="900" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5fySIKtSAL-9wEraweBl2su6GWOPMSG3I_3Xfj7NaH82KKwyT8n4ugjpQxWP7XrFW2X-nJlZiEGarQeBR9Of0WW9PsXF1VlzFnU6DjM1y6-tI5J6ybBqQ4lDqiDq-PnokrfXLH04R213JNjDY70DfFt0ZjyYZy5Tf5y4CXZin-ffJ9q2YdAsVtqx/s16000/wordsforwed2024sm.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>This <b>February</b>, I am the host for <b>Words for Wednesday</b>. <i>Words for Wednesday</i> was started by Delores and now is being continued by various bloggers with <b><a href="https://myjustsostory.blogspot.com/">Elephant's Child</a></b> as our coordinator. The aim of <i>Words for Wednesday</i> is to encourage us to write using some or all of the prompts. <br /><span> </span>You may write your piece in the comments or post it on your blog. If
posting on your blog, please leave a direct link to the post so we can
all visit you. <b>Have fun writing!</b><br /><br /><b>This week's prompts are some onomatopoeias: </b><br />1. meh<br />2. woo<br />3. yum<br />4. uh-oh<br />5. yippee<br />lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-12713710504290572572024-02-08T08:39:00.000-05:002024-02-08T08:39:12.781-05:00Retro Minute #6: Why I am still a blogger & some ramblings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s900/retrog2sm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="900" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvyJ702e1E9OcNacmnXQe3qn3xVZ2-Ump0no41flcoWrpKA_-VvYFDYogQ08ARluiSoSBNBo74v06cGvwMzcjm8idqQXLzN-yBVSLoDLrrqNJaRu8q4H89aaa58bpAgT81Ewi-j_gLH3BN2RWjSfST0OIPmymAktMI7DEplrXJgqsInQheMFGn1QY/s16000/retrog2sm.jpg" width="700" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">To sort of celebrate 18 years of blogging, I'm sharing 18 of my favorite posts</span></b> from previous blogs. Here's the sixth post from January 20, 2019 from <i>The memory of rain</i> blog.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQKAIIsTDx_3ASVEfbBDxfDR5YETucYKl12rfqabYased8GAEGHAtFksjCsfkpGzt4QohizjVvjsI9f4ldyz7ThjcoAJGrbbJzIg3gn7LieYIJLd-BljjrdqzpZwLzc97v7Q6JdEP6xFR7EuaY8yTidXHrViH-XnW2exD-mgSvZOCWRc8_A8M_Tlxz/s854/memrainhednov18.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="854" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQKAIIsTDx_3ASVEfbBDxfDR5YETucYKl12rfqabYased8GAEGHAtFksjCsfkpGzt4QohizjVvjsI9f4ldyz7ThjcoAJGrbbJzIg3gn7LieYIJLd-BljjrdqzpZwLzc97v7Q6JdEP6xFR7EuaY8yTidXHrViH-XnW2exD-mgSvZOCWRc8_A8M_Tlxz/s16000/memrainhednov18.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Why I am still a blogger & some ramblings</span></b><br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">Sad news - my Instagram was not hacked. </span></b>It's very upsetting because if it had been hacked, someone would have updated it and I wouldn't have to. I don't know what happened. I stopped posting on Instagram for a few weeks and now I really just don't want to do it anymore. If I could, I would probably just post links to my blog but you can't make links plus it's kind of strange to link to your blog from Instagram or any other social media as it almost feels a bit backward somehow. And also, I really just don't know about replying to comments - it's all bunched together in the same space and maybe I should reply to them but I don't know. I have no excuses, I'm just lazy. <br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">I think now I'm a bit more anti-social media than I thou</span><span style="color: #0b5394;">gh</span><span style="color: #0b5394;">t </span></b>or perhaps I have always been this way. Here's a little list of my social media history:<br /> <i> Twitter </i>- I quitted that due to not being able to post fast enough or maybe because I hate how hard it is to actually know who's who when everyone is so quick. <br /><i> Pinterest</i> - I quitted that as well. It's more of a place to gather image resources but kind of hard to use since they demand you sign in just to view a page and I'm never in the habit of staying signed into Pinterest and also, it's very, very, very hard to find the original link to any artwork/photo/idea because one person pin something and the whole world pins it but no one knows where the original comes from. <br /> <i> Facebook</i> - I've never tried it but I was tempted to join once or twice but decided it's not for me. I honestly cannot look at a facebook page for long without feeling a bit backward because I think the design is a bit archaic and also, it keeps asking me to sign in which annoys me so much that I usually close the browser window after a few moments.<br /> So it's not quite a history since I didn't really do much. I guess you can say, I really am a bit anti-social media. Is there a cure for this? <br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">I just read this post at<i> Offbeat YA</i> about bloggers being artists and crafters and I agreed with Roberta. We, as bloggers, create content and unlike social media, we don't have to conform to a certain format of presenting it.</span></b> That is, we can add our own distinction, our own little touches. I'm not saying you can't do it with social media, I'm just saying it's a bit harder to distinguish yourself when you have to move at a faster speed. That's what I get from social media - you don't go at your own speed even if it appears that you do. I guess in this instance, I'm slower than most people. Slower to respond to replies and comments, it's why you sometimes see my replies to comments here on this blog a week late. (<a href="http://offbeat-ya.blogspot.com/2019/01/why-every-blogger-is-an-artist.html">Read Roberta's post here.</a>) <br /><br /><b><span style="color: #0b5394;">So what's the point of all of this? Just that, instead of trying out social media, maybe I should just stick to blogging. </span></b>Blogging is really, truly, my only preferred platform. Whatever else I quit, I seem to always return (and keep) to blogging. I have been blogging for a long while and have only quitted about two million times but I'm still blogging and in a few years, I'll announce my retirement from blogging and then a few days afterward, I'll start a new blog. Again. <br /><br /><b>How do you like social media? Do you prefer social media over blogging or do you prefer blogging over social media?</b><br /><p></p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5090248387091785406.post-59258676034146827772024-02-07T18:03:00.001-05:002024-02-07T18:22:44.674-05:00Fiction: The Insomniac Nighthawk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s900/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="900" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcinpnm5EH2tFN3NL93llPZ_5K-qIextth2N_DnsHF9Tu_nvCTSxllMEVnuFkk12xAUOf0D-MHDHuczkGeTL5t7T6MtgbQYKtYEyoa3R_y2KwnAWFJPdoMt21aEMC0sRBf5LUknSPwoTSeURFzQ3xws6edrqYZF_OoOlqwyMgEIw89PNc6MhKV_ot/s16000/fictiontype_01Bsm.jpg" width="550" /></a></div><b>Fiction: The Insomniac Nighthawk<br /></b><br />The bell above the door rang as I stepped inside. There was not a soul in sight in the brightly lit bookstore but it was hard to tell between the towers of books scattered around on the wooden floor and the rows of shelves that reached toward the ceiling and crammed with all sorts of books arranged in a rather chaotic way. <br /> As the door shut close, the rain outside immediately muffled. I shook the rain from my coat and hair. "Hello?" I called out but there was no reply. Tiny puddles of rain littered around a tall, silver canister standing by the door with two brilliant yellow umbrellas already there. <br /> My steps echoed slightly in the dead silence as I walked on the wooden floor. The rain outside became a distance sound as I got farther down the aisle. Colorful couches were here and there occupied by readers. It was a few minutes after 2 am and I might have questioned why these people were here but I was here. The hours on the door said 1:10 am and 4:09 am which itself was unusual but then again, the store was called The Insomniac Nighthawk. <span><a name='more'></a></span><br /> I thought about removing my coat but I was comfortable enough not to. Walking pass the books, I discerned the many different shelves I would stray toward as a kid. A new book smell mixed with some hints of antiquated burnt scent was floating around. Some of the book piles may have been shifted as there were areas on the floor where the dust created empty rectangle shapes.<br /> Passing shelves after shelves, I thought about the times I had spent at the public library reading book after book and only left when it was closing time. I passed a goat flipping the pages of a book with its mouth. I paused, took a few steps backward to look again between the shelves but it was a guy in a while hooded sweatshirt. Had I imagined the goat?<br /> Shelves after shelves, piles after piles, there were more books than I could imagine possible for such a small space and yet, it wasn't a small space, not when there were so many shelves. <br /> I ran my hand through a shelf full of thin paperbacks. The image of my father coming home after a business trip suddenly came to me. He would always bring back a book for himself and a toy for me. I was more fascinated by the books than the toys but I was not allowed to read them but I had flipped through them when he wasn't looking. When he left, he took his books with him.<br /> The rain outside suddenly sounded rather loud but then it dialed down to an almost mute noise. A few moments ago, I was just walking and then it started to rain. I had to find shelter and immediately the bookstore was in front of me. I had never seen the store before. Had I dismissed the place because it had looked like a building about to be torn down?<br /> As I glanced through another shelves of paperbacks, I recalled one of my friend's friend, a bibliophile. He had been looking for a certain copy of a rare book and was willing to pay a large sum to anyone who could get it for him. But the books here seemed not to be organized in any way that I could see. Perhaps such a rare book would not be lying around in a pile or on one of the many shelves. I needed to talk to a salesclerk.<br /> A cooing sound like an owl resonated from above. I looked up but there was no creature about. But there was a little elevated area on the left corner with a wide wooden staircase descending from it. Other than a table with a small pile of books and two chairs, there was no one there. I stepped around a couple of piles of books and book shelves for a closer look. Someone was sitting on the bottom steps of the stairs. There were two small piles of books on the left and right of him. The man was slightly overweight and he had wild, slightly curly, white hair and a full white beard. He held a paperback of <i>The Time Machine</i> in one hand and in the other a steaming coffee mug. As I stepped closer, I could make out the name on the tag on his black button-down shirt: Winter Denny. Was he the owner of this bookstore?<br /> "I'm sorry to interrupt but can you help me find a book?" I said.<br /> The man put down the mug onto the book pile on his left and turned a page in the book he was reading. Then he scratched his beard. His eyes roamed the pages with a speed more quicker than I thought possible. He took a sip from the mug and put it back onto the book pile.<br /> I stepped closer to the man. "Mr. Denny, hello?" I waved my hand in front of him.<br /> The man peered up above his eyeglasses. "Oh, I'm sorry. Got too engrossed to hear you." He closed the book with his thumb in between the pages. "Hello. You must be new here. We're glad you can join us. Would you like a cup of chamomile tea? It's my daily pre-breakfast drink." His eyes, a shade of iron gray, gleamed with a trickster's shine. <br /> I shook my head. "No thank you, Mr. Denny."<br /> "Please call me Winter." He smiled.<br /> "Winter. Right. Winter, I am looking for a book. It's call <i>In search of the time traveler who lost a bet and returned to the past as his own grandfather</i>," I said quietly. The bookstore had a silent air that made me not want to talk too loudly.<br /> "Oh, that one. We get that one a lot lately." Winter furrowed his thick eyebrows. The corner of his lips quirked slightly. He kept saying we. Were there other employees around? <br /> "So, do you have the book?" I stared at the man. I was almost certain he would say yes.<br /> "What is your name, sir?" Winter asked.<br /> "Fish. Fish Lang." I smiled. <br /> "Ah, Fish Lang, good name." Winter smiled.<br /> "Do you have a copy here or if not, do you know someone who does?"<br /> "Fish," said Winter. He paused and took a sip of his tea. "Don't tell me, someone wanted you get the book and is willing to pay a large sum for it. Am I right?"<br /> I nodded. "Yes but... I really need the money. My grandmother is sick and she needs surgery and..." I had no debts to pay but I did lose my job a week ago.<br /> "Don't give me that. If there's one thing I hate is when people lie. You were just going to make a quick buck getting the book for some collector who really doesn't care about the book. They just wanted it just to brag or show off." Winter grinned.<br /> Why did I lie? Had I hoped he would pity me and get me the book? "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't know why I lied."<br /> "Don't worry about it. Hey, do you want to know what I think of book collectors?" Winter raised a thick and unruly eyebrow.<br /> "Sure." Was this man going to lecture me?<br /> "Well, I'll tell you. They get this expensive, rare book and they will store it away and it will never be seen again. Or they will foolishly try to read it. Reading a rare book is like making love to a woman. You want to be gentle but you end up being rough."<br /> I chuckled.<br /> "I understand you probably need the money but looking for a book that is the equivalent of rubbish is just a waste of time. And anyone who value that book is an idiot."<br /> "So you know about the book?"<br /> "I certainly do. Trust me, forget about it. Look, Fish, rubbish is rubbish, they can't turn into gems just because we want them to. Sit for a spell. Grab a book. Start reading. The night is too brilliant to let it end without reading a book." Winter smiled. <br /> A howl sounded.<br /> "What was that?" I asked.<br /> "It must be a full moon. Lots of crazy weirdos this time of the year. I had better check that out." He took another sip of his tea, put the mug back down on the pile, closed the book he had been reading, put it on the other pile and stood up and started off. But then he stopped and turned around. "Before I go, let me get the book for you." He walked around me toward a table piled with books above and below it. With a sigh, he bended down and pulled out a paperback that was under one of the table legs but no books fell down. "Here is the book that everyone is looking for. I read it. It's rubbish. You can read it and judge for yourself." He held it out for me. I wasn't sure why my hand shook as I took the paperback from Winter. "Thank you," I said.<br /> Winter nodded. "You're welcome. It's 1.99 if you want it but I can assure you, whoever wanted to spend more than two bucks on such a book must be dumber than a doorbell, well, less than that." He turned around and left me alone.<br /> I sat down on one of the one of the steps. The book was thin and light. The orange cover with the man chasing a large clock was worn at the corners and the author's name was nearly blocked out by pencil marks. Was this book worth thousands of dollars? I turned to the first page.<br /><br />~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ <br /><br />This week's <b>Words for Wednesday</b> prompts are provided by me <b><a href="https://postcardsfromthebookstore.blogspot.com/2024/02/words-for-wednesday-prompts-feb-7-2024.html">over here</a></b>. This week's prompts are: <i>soul, brilliant, breakfast, winter, moon.</i><p></p>lissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00706027242022517570noreply@blogger.com8