“Have you been noticing what’s up in the garden?”
“The daffodils, the peach tree, the pear trees! Have you noticed them?”
“I guess not. Could you put a photo on Facebook for me so I could see it?”
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “what’s up.”
Did you know that there is exactly one museum in the U.S. named in honor of a woman? Yeah. That.
It’s the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico. A good reason to visit Santa Fe, if you happen to be searching for an excuse to visit Santa Fe. While you’re in New Mexico, you can visit her home and studio at Ghost Ranch. Convenient, right?
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “Georgia.”
There is no National Holiday in the U.S. in honor of a woman. We need some. I suppose the person being honored should have passed away before they get the holiday named in their honor. That leaves out some women who I think deserve it like Gloria Steinem. But how about Rosa Parks or Rachel Carson? Or someone else? Who?
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This thing on the Internet – I saw it early this morning – it said please RT. I figured that meant please read tonight, so I’ve been waiting all day to read it. So, I finally read it just now (because it’s night) and I don’t see what the big deal is. Why wait, is what I thought. I’m going to ignore any other RT orders from my friends.
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Much as his mother tried to make him one, Oscar was never the family’s golden boy. Instead of going to medical school, he bought a sailboat and moved to Belize. No, it was Martina who did everything right – the right degree, the big job, the perfect mate.
When Martina finally realized, at age 43, that her mother . . .
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I was in the right vicinity. I saw streets named General Nimitz, General Patton. I could not find General Bradley. The street signs were so hard to see, and some were obscured by leaves. I made a U-turn and started back in search of the right general’s name. Driving slowly, . . .
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Kansas City photo by Pam Broviak
He woke up humming that old song from Oklahoma. The one about how everything’s up to date in Kansas City because they have indoor plumbing and burlesque shows.
Where did that come from, he wondered. His mind amazed him sometimes, the way things just popped up out of nowhere. What had he been dreaming? Something about Kansas City? No. He remembered dreaming about a basement with window covers that worked with an electric switch.
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I subscribe to A Word A Day and often learn new words. Yesterday the word was chiral, a new word for me. Oddly, I remember when and where I was when I learned certain words as a child. I remember when I learned osmosis and impermeable. New words these days merely fall into a big vat and become part of the mix. I don’t recall each one with distinction. The vocabulary muscle in my brain seethes in a bubbling cauldron of words, prefixes, suffixes, and roots all mixed up with Latin, French, Spanish, and German. It’s a mess in there.
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All 3 of them stomped into her bedroom. She’d had 2 hours sleep. They dragged her out of bed, claiming urgent action was needed. She dressed and staggered downstairs, saying, “Gimmie caffeine and sugar – I’ll be ready.” A huge coffee appeared in one hand, a bag containing a muffin in the other, and they steered her toward the car.
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The lilac bush was perfect cover. He slipped behind it and stood on tiptoes to look through the ornate wooden window. There she was! She pulled off her clothes and slipped a lacy nightgown over her head. He smiled. His timing was perfect tonight. He . . .
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