From Mom

     My mother emailed this to me. I usually don't even read forwarded mail, but this one hit home....

      Mom and Dad were watching TV when Mom said, 'I'm tired, and it's getting late. I think I'll go to bed' 
She went to the kitchen to make sandwiches for the next day's lunches, rinsed out the popcorn bowls, took meat out of the freezer for supper the following evening, checked the cereal box levels, filled the sugar container, put spoons and bowls on the table and started the coffee pot for brewing the next morning.
        She then put some wet clothes in the dryer, put a load of clothes into the washer, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button. She picked up the game pieces left on the table, put the phone back on the charger and put the telephone book into the drawer.
        She watered the plants, emptied a wastebasket and hung up a towel to dry.  She yawned and stretched and headed for the bedroom. She stopped by the desk and wrote a note to the teacher, counted out some cash for the field trip, and pulled a text book out from hiding under the chair. 
        She signed a birthday card for a friend, addressed and stamped the envelope and wrote a quick note for the grocery store. She put both near her purse. 
       Mom then washed her face with 3 in 1 cleanser, put on her Night solution & age fighting moisturizer, brushed and flossed her teeth and filed her nails.

        Dad called out, 'I thought you were going to bed.' 

        'I'm on my way,' she said. 

        She put some water into the dog's dish and brought the cat inside, then made sure the doors were locked and the patio light was on. She looked in on each of the kids and turned out their bedside lamps and TV's , hung up a shirt, threw some dirty socks into the hamper, and had a brief conversation with the one up still doing homework.
        In her own room, she set the alarm; laid out clothing for the next day, straightened up the shoe rack. She added three things to her 6 most important things to do list. She said her prayers, and visualized the accomplishment of her goals. 
      About that time, Dad turned off the TV and announced to no one in particular. 'I'm going to bed.' He scratched his crotch and farted, and

        ...without another thought, went to bed.

        Anything extraordinary here? Wonder why women live longer...? 

        CAUSE WE ARE MADE FOR THE LONG HAUL..... (and we can't die sooner, we still have things to do!!!!)

A little help of some friends

'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support them after.
~William Shakespeare

Here's a shout out to my writing group, the great peeps who buoy me when I'm sinking, make the sun shine on cloudy days (of which there are many), and give me feathers so I can fly. Hear that Marcia, ye of angel wings? You, too, Beth, ye of owl wings?

Without you, I'm not leaving the nest. Actually, without you, it's more like I fell out of the nest and am flailing on the ground. And then a vulture swoops down and chews me up and spits me out. HA. Lol.


In a nutshell.... thanks.

GimmiGela

Welcome Cupid's Literary Connection!

 Below is a summary and first 250 pages of my novel...

GimmiGela

MG Contemporary

50,000 words

Summary

            Eleven-year-old Gela Stone learned from her famous mountain-climbing father how to survive in the wild, but after he dies in a tragic accident, Gela must learn completely different survival skills to overcome the grief that turns her family upside-down. Things get even more complicated when she stumbles on random clues that indicate her father’s accident was not as her mother described it, leaving Gela to wonder, how did her father really die and why would her mother lie about it?

The clues turn up everywhere, beginning with a young woman at the funeral who tells Gela, “Your father saved my life,” continuing to the church steps where Gela overhears whispers that will haunt her for months to come:  … crushed to death … two days to find the body … she doesn’t want the children to know. Even a surprise visit from Jangbu, Dad’s climbing partner from Tibet, turns from a comforting reunion into a swirl of confusion.

When ignoring the truth becomes impossible, especially after Gela and her twin brother, Gimmi, discover everyone—including their entire fifth-grade class—has been keeping the secret, humiliation pushes Gimmi and Gela to the extreme. Together they set out to climb the same mountain that took their father’s life, hoping to put an end to the mystery as well as the misery in their lives. But will Gela’s strength and determination be enough for the twins to survive snake attacks, hailstorms and an unplanned overnight stay on a treacherous mountain? 

FIRST PAGE of Book (250 words)

Everest was allowed to carry the challis up to the priest during the funeral. He even lit a candle. That’s what you get when you’re 16, but if you’re 11, like me and my twin brother, Gimmi, it’s a different story. We sat squished between Mom and Aunt Dani, who passed Mom tissue after tissue, knocking me in the head and Gimmi in the face with her arm. It didn’t bother Gimmi, because her sleeve wiped away his tears           at the same time. I didn’t need any tissues, because I don’t cry. Big kids don’t.

Even if they’re girls.

            After an hour of mumbling about how happy we should be because Dad had entered the kingdom of the Lord, Father Tom stepped down from the altar and told us “to go in peace.” He made the sign of the cross over the coffin, folded down the gold-framed photograph of my father—which had been staring at us the whole time—and passed it to Mom. She pressed it to her chest with crossed arms and numbly stared ahead at the men gathering around the coffin. 

Mom nodded to Everest. He swallowed, stood slowly, and without looking at a soul, walked to the coffin. He hesitated for a moment before placing his hands on the smooth dark-brown, shiny wood. On a whispered count of three, they raised it overhead. Everest winced as it came to rest on his shoulder. Mom’s head dropped forward and she curled around the gold-framed photograph, trembling. 

Curiosity

"Curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect." 

I wish I could take credit for that quote, but it's really the brain work of comedian Stephen Wright. What a great line! I do know I've always been intensely curious, sometimes to a fault (of never getting anything really accomplished because I'm curious upon curious). And, although I've never killed a cat (by curiosity or otherwise), I know I've killed a lot of time. Probably a few brain cells too.

So, along with the price of curiosity comes the demon of procrastination. In which case, maybe the cat wasn't entirely curious. Maybe he was supposed to run after the mouse, his true job, but instead he waddled for the food bowl because he was curiously procrastinating having to run after the mouse. And maybe along the way, he fell down a flight of stairs and concussed (I love the way the noun "concussion" becomes the verb "concussed.). Perhaps curiosity wasn't the villain at all. Maybe it was procrastination all along.

procrastinately yours (yes, I did make up that word),
drew (lost in the zoo of insanity)

Newest Family Members!

My world, my zoo

Introducing, my very own blog with some of my very own thoughts, opinions, inspirations and ah hahs! Now I just need to find them. Hopefully I'll be back, very soon.