Pfffftttt! – Spit! – Ouch!

Day 9 – This is being some kind of transparent here. I wouldn’t normally be talking about this because this is something I don’t talk about, but I have to set the scene. If I don’t tell you what I was doing, this won’t go right. So please don’t think that I’m being self-righteous or zealous or anything like that. What I was doing I take very seriously and is very private to me. There was only one other purrson in the room with me and she is the culprit. You will see what I mean in a minute. But I just wanted to get that out on the table here. Thank you.

So last night I was praying on the floor in my bedroom. I had a candle lit a little ways in front of me and Morgan The Maine Coon, The Most Curious of All The Cats We Have Ever Had, was laying on the floor about three feet away from it, totally mesmerized by it’s flame. I can’t blame her there. Fire totally captivates me as well. Scares me to death on a grand scale, but is one of the most beautiful of nature’s elements. The flame had burned down quite a bit – the candle was a little finicky as it was and I figured it was going to sputter out pretty soon on its own.

Suddenly, I felt a movement in front of me. Oh, I guess I should tell you I was pretty deep in prayer (this is the part where you aren’t supposed to do any judging) and my eyes were closed, so I wasn’t aware of anything going on around me. Hence the feeling of movement in front of me. It was sufficient enough for me to open my eyes and see Morgan receding back to where she had been laying but now she was sitting. I heard a sizzling “pfffffft” and then a “ssssssss” Maoooooow” and put two and two together rather quickly when her head reared back from her paw. Apparently, Miss Inquisitive had decided to put out the candle herself. As she did that, her paw had also swiped up the hot candle liquid and that burned the hair and possibly the pad of her foot as it began to form around her shape. She bit back as she had been bitten and made contact with her mouf and that created yet another pain source. All in the span of about five seconds. Poor baby! I knew better than to approach her because she is so danged independent with her owies, so I let her tug and pull at the cooling wax and figure out how best to get that beast off of her. I eventually bent my way over towards her to see what I could see, but she had done a pretty good job, plus, her paw is white, so there wasn’t much I could see at best.

In the meantime, I had slowly moved the candle over to my left side, out of sight. Once she had licked her wounds, she came over in great stealth, creeping up on the Burn Monster, seeking a way to find out how she could Kill It. She extended the Burned Paw, almost as though she wanted It to see what It had Done To Her. Then she swatted the side of the candle a couple of times and walked off. Take that YOU.

I checked her paw later and she didn’t seem any worse for wear. As for praying on the floor with a candle with Morgan near by, I don’t think that will happen again. At least not in that combination. Amen.

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Word

Day 7 – It is now the last day of the first month of 2016 and the word that can describe me is INCOMPLETE. My writers’ group on Facebook was asked last week what one word would describe us for the month and then challenged us to write about it. Well, there it is. Incomplete.

It seemed that everything I touched in any way did not get finished. My sister’s Christmas gifts are still in the sewing room. Incomplete. As are several of the small projects I had cut out to sew while I was watching Christmas movies. Then I thought I could just whip those out during January while I was watching my favorite oldie reruns. Nope. Incomplete they are as well.

The challenge I took up to write 500 words everyday for 30 days has been a bust. This is supposed to be Day 7 if I am to stick with the number of days I have been involved in the plan. Not only have they not been 500 words, I haven’t written every day. So that assignment has been…Incomplete.

I would even settle for inconsistent, at least that meant I had been making some effort in some areas, but no, to be honest, I can’t even claim that word. My goals for the year – incomplete. I don’t even have a bucket list – my bucket has so many holes in it, whatever might be on a list wouldn’t last a minute in it.

So what gives, huh? The only thing I’ve been good at all month is sleeping. Morgan and I have been great nap-mates (she is my Maine Coon, for those of you who haven’t read other posts). I’ve managed to gain weight, gone gray, and acquire trigeminal neuralgia since the first weekend of January. It was a great New Year’s let me tell ya! I don’t know if it’s the medication or what, but my hands have begun to twitch intermittently, so doing anything that requires any kind of steadiness has been a challenge.

If I were a Fortran test sheet in high school, I would be incomplete. There wouldn’t even be erasure marks on me. My answers would have just been skipped. Test returned as incomplete. I’m hoping for a do-over, but February isn’t lining up to look any better. I worked on my personal calendar today and I’m already so booked, there are few white spaces left. And it’s not like I’m really that busy. I’m just going to have to give up sleep, I guess. How else can I fit in the things on my “to do” list that I haven’t gotten to yet? Even that is incomplete!

Morgan has just placed herself in front of me, actually between me and the keyboard. That means serious business. She has a few things to add here. She is quite the typist. Oh, you are actually in luck. She just jumped down and is searching out something to do. She wants us to go to bed. It is way over our time to be working in here.

The wind is howling outside. I love the wind as long as I don’t have to be in it. But that doesn’t help me here. I told my husband that I felt really empty from my incompleteness. January is an off month for me, but I don’t recall that I’ve ever been in this kind of rut before. Since I’m a glass half full kinda gal, I’m going to end this on a positive note with the thought that tomorrow is a new day in a new month and I can only pray that it will be a darn sight better than January was for me. I’m going to continue on with my 500 word a day  challenge. By the way, I’ve hit over 600 words here, just thought you should know. I’m going to see what I can do about my darned schedule to make it better. There are things I should be doing that I haven’t been and things I have been doing that I could put on the back burner, so that’s something. It’s a matter of priorities. Always.

I just don’t like this feeling or even the word so much. Incomplete. Where is my eraser?

 

 

 

My Childhood Bedroom

I had several bedrooms as a child, but my very favorite was the one that overlooked the field in front of our house. This particular house was the house, the last house I would live in before I left home. There were many rooms in this house that served as my bedroom, but the one that started as my room and ended as my room, was indeed my heart’s treasure.

My childhood room was built as an extension to the house at some point, or at least it seemed like it to me. I am directionally challenged, so I can only describe my room as I am standing facing toward the field, my north.  Out that large window I could see the hillside of lilacs over to the left, the driveway leading down to the mailbox and our bus stop and the road leading away from home. The field in front of the house was where we played softball in the summer, picked wild blackberries in the small creek in the late spring, messed with the frogs and toads in the pond hidden within the blackberry bushes – all to the right of that window. I could sit on the sill of the window and daydream for quite a while before my butt got tired and I had to get down.  The best part of the window was that there was an old oak tree standing sentry to the right at the corner of the house. It was taller than the house, but since the house was kind of built on a slant and the tree was too, it was hard to say just how tall the tree really was. But what was so cool about that tree was that when it was windy or raining, the acorns and leaves on the branches would brush against the house and on top of the house, which hapened to have a tin roof. It would be thundering in my room like my own drum corp. I just loved it.

The second window was to my east and faced out to the wooden deck that encircled the back of the house. I could see a bunch of junky stuff that Dad had ‘stored’ out in that part of the ‘out in the back’. There were a lot of placees that were ‘out in the back’ wth a lot of junk ‘stored.’ That was not a favorite window by any means. In the summer I would open up the windows and let in the fresh air until it  would get too hot and then we used an air conditioner to cool the house. I don’t remember my room gettig all that cool. The sun never beat into the room that much – I didn’t see it come up or go down, but in Mariposa, summers are hot and dry. I don’t think my room was all that big but it was just the right size for me.

My childhoold room was a lot of colors because my mom liked to paint the house a lot. I think it was yellow, pink, white, lavendar, blue. Not all at once, but at different times. I think the last color was a light blue. I was, am, an avid reader, so I spent a great deal of time in my room on my bed reading. I remember specifically being on my bed throughout one summer pouring through Gone with the Wind, cussing under my breath at Rhett and crying my eyes out as I chomped through rosy red apples in the heat of the balmy afternoons. I grew up with Marmy and her girls in Little Women, turning my small closet into a small prayer chapel as closely as I could to the one like Amy had. I had stacks and stacks of books in my room, even though I had a bookcase and nightstands full of them, as well.

My childhood room housed sleepovers with school friends, witnessed fights and resolutions between my little sister, heard my secrets and fears, even became the canvas for all the David Cassidy posters I plastered all over the walls and doors for years. My childhood room saw a child of nine grow into a young woman of 18. On one horrible day, my childhood room was ravaged of the personal contents, drawers torn open and clothes haphazardly thrown about; hangers tossed empty on the closet floor; cherished books, photos, and toys left to the wayside without a second thought. My childhood was over and I was leaving home, very angry and in a hurry. I didn’t even turn to say good-bye…to my childhood room.

500 Words a Day Challenge

I started my blog a few short months ago, and I’m fairly new to the blogging scene. I used to write regularly, but it’s clear I need a little help getting into the discipline of it again. I was all fired up when I started the blog, but then life happened, and well, you know. Here’s where you come in. I’ve joined a 500 words a day challenge with a group of writers that is going to get me in the habit of writing on a daily basis. You can help hold me accountable. While my blog site theme is Food for Thought and what I’m passionate about, my next 31 days, (and possibly a bit beyond), will be about writing from the senses, which intrigues the heck out of me. I hope it will interest you, as well.

Where you can help me is…I’d love it if you would comment on the posts you like, and even the ones you don’t so much…and what you do/don’t about them. Your comments will help me know what to fix or not to. At the end of the challenge, not only will I have honed my daily discipline in writing, I will have a collection of writing I will be able to know what to work with down the road. Because of you, Dear Reader! Gotta you up front though – these are free writes – they will not be edited, so hold on to your seats, folks. You are gonna get what you get! Are you ready? Then, let’s get started! This will be a little like Julia/Julia but not as messy. Ha ha ha!