Slacker

Today, dear readers, I have nothing to post. 

Not that I don't have anything to say.  It's just that I need to put energy to writing today.  I've been a slacker lately.  Not a true slacker in the general sense, but definitely one when it comes to my writing.  So today, I do what I love and return to my short stories, continue to edit, create, polish, revise and do all that other *stuff* that brings the story to the page.  Somehow, though, it never feels quite finished or good enough for other's eyes ... to be reviewed .... judged ... critiqued ...

ohhhhhh, the pain of it all

Scary business. 

So see ya tomorrow! 

And thanks for stopping by,
missing the mom gene

SpayDay for Love

I'm such a sucker when it comes to kitties.  Or dogs.

It might be because loving animals is a lot less complex than loving humans.  That's because my kitty provides me lots of free entertainment, doesn't talk back and never asks for money. 

So when my sister-in-law sent me this site from the Humane Society ....

I couldn't resist perusing through the photos of all kinds of rescue pets, reading about their quirky behaviors and how much their owners loved them.

We rescued Kramer and his sister, Zoey, from an Indianapolis shelter 14 years ago.  My then 10 year old pleaded for me to stop by and just go in to visit.  I was absolutely firm with her that we were not taking any cats home.

Absolutely NOT!

NOT, NOT, NOT!

An hour later, we were walking out, not with just one cat, but TWO!

See what I mean.  I'm such a sucker when it comes to kitties.

must not go to shelters
must not go to shelters
must not go to shelters

But back to the main message.

What is Spay Day?  It's an annual event of The Humane Society to inspire folks to save animals' lives.  Here's what they have to say:

"To support Spay Day, The Humane Society of the United States and Humane Society International host the Spay Day Online Pet Photo Contest, presented by Zazzle—a great opportunity to celebrate our pets, raise funds for spaying and neutering, and win great prizes! "


If you are a kitty, dog, hamster, or whatever animal lover, check out their website:
 http://photocontest.humanesociety.org/contest.html?contestId=3&utm_source=haslota020211&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=spayday

And enter your pet!  Like I did.

And when you can,
support your local animal shelter.

And maybe ...

stop by one ...

and fall in love.


Yours truly,
missing the mom gene

Longing

Sigh.  We have returned to our wintry northeast home, leaving behind our little island of beach breezes and sunshine.  It makes me a bit melancholy.

I have arrived home
to a house glazed in

icicles

I cannot resist knocking
them down one by one
whose explosions in the snow
produce a moonscape impression

a stark contrast of my previous days
filled with
sunshine and beaches and terns
bike rides and crashing waves
glowing red sunsets
and swaying coconut palms
morning dog walkers
afternoon bikers
and nighttime fishermen on the pier


But I have arrived home

newspapers, magazines,
assorted bills and advertising offers
await me
beckoning to be explored,
and groceries to be bought,
laundry to be done
messages to be returned

I have arrived home


luggage will sit for days
with its contents
trapped
undisturbed
cradling
the smell of the sea
and the sugar fine sand
captured by
shorts and sandals and swimsuits

all which must be put away

until another day and time

when I will return to the sea

And arrive home.


Yours truly,
missing the mom gene

Wednesday Whimsy - We Were Awesome

I know this has been floating around the Internet for a few years, but it totally epitomizes how much fun it was to grow up when I was a kid.  Consider it my Wednesday Whimsy gift to you!

TO ALL OF US WHO SURVIVED THE 1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's.

First, we survived being born to mothers who may have smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then, after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets, and, when we rode our bikes, we had baseball caps, not helmets, on our heads.

As infants and children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes.

Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter, and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And we weren't overweight.

WHY?

Because we were always outside playing...that's why!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And, we were OKAY.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then riding them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes.  After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Play Stations, Nintendos and XBoxes. There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVDs, no surround-sound or CDs, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms.

WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from those accidents.

We would get spankings with wooden spoons, switches, ping-pong paddles, or just a bare hand, and no one would call child services to report abuse.

We ate worms, and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls, and although we were told it would happen - we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them.

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment.  Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers, and inventors ever.

The past 50 to 85 years have seen an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.

If YOU are one of those born between 1925-1975,
CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good.

While you are at it, forward it to your kids, so they will know how brave and lucky their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it ?

How Much is a Life Worth?

“What do you pack for the rest of your life?”

That’s the first sentence in Lionel Shriver’s book, So Much For That, in which Shep, a disillusioned small businessman, has had enough of the American dream and plans his escape to a small island off the coast of Africa.

Who doesn’t want that?  Right?

But the story wouldn’t be much of a story without a good conflict.  And the conflict comes early in the book when his wife is diagnosed with a rare and incurable cancer.

Oh, what to do, what to do?

Although I typically favor the short story genre, I discovered Lionel Shriver this past summer when I read her 2006 novel, We Need to Talk About Kevin. Her journalistic style combined with her formidable characters, left me wanting to read more of her work. 

And yet, I paused initially when reading the reviews by HarperCollins for So Much For That, a National Book Award Finalist:

“Enriched with three medical subplots that also explore the human costs of American health care .... Shriver writes a page-turner that presses the question: How much is one life worth? “

I wasn’t so sure I was up for such a weighty topic of a novel dedicated to themes of serious illness set in an unfair healthcare system.

Oh, and if that wasn’t enough conflict, Shriver pushes the question about the worth of a human life.

(Mmmm, there are days that I think there are some human lives not worth 2 cents!  Like the guy who cut me off in traffic the other day and found it necessary to give me a lovely hand gesture.)

Sorry, I digressed for a moment.

It is an unpleasant subject matter, but working in hospitals myself for over 20 years, and observing all its anomalies, my interest was piqued in what she had to say. 

Even HarperCollins' review added to my enthusiasm to dive in:

“... it goes about the business of deconstructing the meaning of life very quietly, with humor and a degree of humility. What are we all here for? Is there something better somewhere else?  Or are we merely kidding ourselves? All this is explored in lavish detail, with no pat answers.  It finishes with a wonderful moral that Shriver succeeds in proving brilliantly.  No matter what happens in life, or however we’ve messed up, “We can all still end well”. "

Although parts of the book get a bit lengthy with the tirades on our health care system, the climax offers some sweet revenge.

As the pace quickens towards the end, Shriver teases us with the visions of the Fundu Lagoon resort, with its breathtaking views on the island of Pemba, off the coast of Africa.

I hope The Professor is reading this. 

We are so going there some day. 

Yours truly,
missing the mom gene