Quality Control
As neighbors you are irreplaceable.
The prospect of your loss? Unfaceable
What if the folks you sell it to
turn out to be ones we will rue?
Replacing you?
We no can do!
We’ll annex your house and then
use it as our adjunct den.
The Weekend Writing Prompt 418 is to write a 44 word poem or story on the theme “annex.” (Image from the Irish Times)
Immobility
What once passed for vigor, I fear has turned into a case of fine acting. If I walk with energy, it is a forced energy expressed in spurts in situations where once I ran. I hope this can be attributed to the dignity of my age; but when I see others my age outpacing me, the jig is up and I am revealed for what I am—someone who, in spite of what I have always believed would happen, is wearing out and falling into that part of the life cycle that includes wrinkling up and slowing down. Ugh. I hate to admit it, but perhaps if I do it will be a type of therapy and in confronting it, it will go away—or at least it will lessen in its effect.
The truth is that I fear acting old more than I fear looking old. I hate it that I struggle to get up from a kneeling position and that I can in no way do it gracefully. I put both hands against the floor in front of me, raise my butt in the air and walk up to my hands—only way it seems possible without a lot of grunting and straining. In animal behavior, I would probably appear sexy as I do so, but I do not delude myself that any human being would find it so.
An additional truth to face now that I am older is that I am turning into my mother. Having to do more than one thing at once befuddles me and sometimes even one thing at a time is a bit confusing. Numbers don’t behave as they once did. I add and subtract and multiply and divide just fine. I grew up in a time before computers and handheld devices, so I’m used to doing functions mentally that youth finds better relegated to machines. The problem is in the interrelation of functions––just how to convert dimensions expressed in feet and tenths of feet to feet and inches, to enable me to equate it to the past when all dimensions were expressed as such. Why describe in tenths of feet which are traditionally divided into twelve parts, not ten? Why not just convert to a decimal system entirely, which I could then translate easily to inches and then to feet and inches?
The world is no longer my oyster. Devices get smaller and smaller as my eyes get worse and worse. I can’t wait for all of today’s young programmers and systems designers to get to be 60 and to try to make use of the apps they’ve designed primarily for phones so tiny that you can barely find the phone, let alone make out pages as small as playing cards. And don’t even get me started on the designers of medicine labels!!! If it isn’t bad enough that they are in size 2 font, they then make them white on yellow or gray on blue so it is impossible to read them no matter what size they are. What are they thinking? The clincher was my optometrist’s card that was primarily empty space with the writing squeezed into one corner, so small that I doubt it could be read by anyone–glasses or no glasses, and remember, people come to optometrists primarily because they can’t see in the first place! In addition, it was one of those cards impossible to look at because the two colors used not only made it difficult to read, but tended to affect one’s astigmatism, or at the very least one’s sense of good taste.
I must admit that I have never been an athletic person. Zumba, yoga and pool aerobics have been my most successful and enduring modes of exercise. But what I have done, I have always done with great vigor. I work hard, in the past did all my own housework and gardening and have been a bit of a workaholic. But very recently, I find myself wearing out faster, sneaking off to a hidden corner to huff and puff a bit or lie down for a ten-minute rest. I find myself getting a bit testier and less patient when things go wrong, but blessedly usually express my frustration (aloud) primarily to myself.
It occurred to me earlier this year, however, that passing neighbors can probably hear me when I shout “Idiot” to myself—or worse. Or, when I yell at the dogs to stop barking or stop jumping up. “Judy, you’re worse than the dogs!” a friend sputtered, shaking his head one day as I roared “Frida, Diego, Morrie–stop!!!” as they executed a deafening chorus of deep barks when I arrived home and opened the garage door. So I guess that is one place where my energy remains unabated. When it comes to expressing myself, I have great vocal cords. You could even say I’m still capable of a vigorous rejoinder!!!
The prompt for SOCS is “Walk.”
Photo by Elias Null on Unsplash
\for Fibbing Friday, the questions refer to movie quotes, but who could have said this?
1. “Lions, and tigers, and bears! Oh, my!” Noah
2. “Shut up – you had me at ‘hello.’” Ms.Parton, the first time she heard Louis Armstrong sing “Hello Dolly”
3. “Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?” Medusa’s hairstylist
4. “I’ll have what she’s having.” Adam
5. “It’s alive! It’s alive!” Eve, after Adam ate the apple.
6. “No man is a failure who has friends”. William Penn
7. “If you build it, he will come.” Hugh Hefner’s architect for the Playboy Mansion, to his carpenter, greatly overstating the matter.
8. “I feel the need, the need for speed.” Andy Warhol
9. “On Wednesdays, we wear pink.” Harvey Milk, in reference to his dress code
10. “Florals? For spring. Groundbreaking.” Johnny Appleseed, referring to his sideline.
Silly Girls, 1958
This is the “Tell Me A Story” prompt #3. I know the true story of this photo. Can you make one up that is more interesting and put a link to it in comments below? Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.
jdb photo
Keyboard Athlete
Not a great sportswoman—champion of none.
I sport a camera when having my fun.
My skill is not measured in baskets or bases.
I score my points while clicking at faces.
Though I’m not the most physical person you’ll meet,
I do exercise caution when crossing the street.
My main lack of muscle tone’s merely because
My pushup experience is mainly in bras.
As you vault over hurdles and excel at tennis,
the extensions I do are less of a menace.
Though I’m not an expert at sprinting or jogging,
my fingers are well-toned through everyday blogging.
For the Word of the Day Challenge, the prompt word is everyday.
Bird Bath
You bask in the sun as you crane to inspect
that bird in the water, demanding respect.
How odd that he has not one thing to say
and as you caw your challenge, doesn’t fly away.
When you bob your head at him, he bobs at you.
He’s an image of everything you choose to do.
Then, Mr. Raven, as you fly away,
So too does the other decide not to stay.
Just as you stage your sudden defection,
flying away with you is your reflection.
The One Word Sunday prompt is reflection.
Click on photos to enlarge.
Today’s Fibbing Friday theme is “every day items redefined.”
1. Carpet. A dog that deports itself well in a car so gets to go along.
2. Flannel. What we called my Aunt Nellie who made the incredible custard we all loved.
3. Microwave. A very small, unenthusiastic flutter of the hand.
4. Timer. What the French call the sea just off the coast of Bangkok
5. Coaster. What you call it when Grandma lets two grandkids stir the pot on the stove at the same time.
6. Dish cloth. Slang word for the dress worn by a beautiful woman. (See my prior post…)
7. Bag. What be the main interest of a farmer.
8. Blender. Two often-used suffixes.
9. Grater. What the pit bull answered when his master asked him what happened to the cat.
10. Peeler. What you should offer to do for your girlfriend who spent 8 hours in the sun yesterday without sunscreen.
When she wears it, worlds collide.
Men collect on either side.
Women seek her company.
Children seek to grace her knee.
Potentates, senators, kings
bring her necklaces and rings.
Scholars write her name in books.
Jealous women exchange looks.
There is hardly anything
that nature does not seek to bring.
Winds blow harder, streams divert
when she wears that saffron skirt.
The very heavens note where she went.
Tsunamis curl, volcanoes vent.
Soldiers line up to parade.
Mimes begin their mute charade.
Actors emote better to
this goddess in her sunny hue.
Mourning doves just bill and coo.
Old boyfriends seek her out anew.
Yet as she stands before her glass,
surveying both her front and ass,
her mate says, “Are you wearing that?”
and she surmises she looks too fat.
As she changes into basic black,
the lava cools, the seas hold back.
Her suitors cease their clamoring press.
She does not wear the yellow dress.
The dVerse Poets prompt was lemon yellow.
Puddle-Jumping
Raindrops fall and splat and skitter,
bringing sheen and gloss and glitter.
In my dreams I hear them falling,
try to wake to heed their calling.
When exactly do I know
it’s time to leave my bed and go
outside to splash in rain-filled gutters,
ignoring Grandpa’s warning mutters
that I’ll catch a cold today
if I go outside to play?
He says it’s raining cats and dogs,
but all I find outside are frogs,
proving his idiom a lie
as nothing’s falling from the sky
but rain and blossoms from the tree
that stretches its limbs over me.
I make my way, laborious,
through mud and goo most glorious,
then reach the ditch and wash feet off
in the rushing water trough.
I see Grandpa watching me,
warm and dry and splatter-free.
But then he’s gone, no doubt to see
what’s playing now on the TV.
But, just as it begins to pour,
there’s Grandpa coming out the door!
Barefooted, he jumps in my puddle,
gives my shoulders a warm cuddle,
then repeats the old refrain
that this day is “Right as rain!”
For RDP the prompt is Gloss
Can you furnish a better story for this photo for me? HERE is the pingback to include with your post to make sure we all see it.
Short Short Story
No place for a nap could be crasser or baser.
It’s clear that that beer was simply a chaser.
Overly tired, three sheets to the wind,
I think that this fellow is overly ginned!
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 