Still

I’m stealing this writing prompt from Ronni Bennett, who found it on Mother Pie. Here is a shortened 50-wordish version of my “stills.”

Still Loving: living in a place with four seasons

Still Doing: regular stretching, walking and Tai Chi

Still Enjoying: a good book and a good book discussion

Still Wishing: that politics was more about the needs of the people

Still Hoping: to make it to Alaska one of these days

Still Grateful: for my family and friends

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “still.”

On your toes

The Albuquerque Thunderbirds vs. the Utah Flash: a fast and close basketball game in Tingley Auditorium. We were on the front row, right under the basket. Great view of the scantily dressed girls with pompoms from the front row, just in case you’re interested. A huge guy from the Utah team slid off the court after a ball and slammed into me, right on my toes. Thanks, Keen, for the extra rubber bumpers on my shoes because this guy must weigh in at over 200 pounds. The Thunderbirds . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “on your toes.” Or you can cheat a bit, like I did, I write about “on my toes.”

I’m no expert

I’m no expert on the topic of money, but I did answer some questions about money for money blogger Nina Smith. Here’s the interview. Yikes, that photo is scary.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “I’m no expert.”

I want to be

I want to be a writer when I grow up. Well, I’m already a writer, but I want to be a better one. I want to write something that people can’t put down. I want to write something that reveals the meaning of something, provides some insight, leads the mind down a new path. After all these years as a writer, I don’t think that gem is going to bubble out of me, but I want it to. . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “I want to be.”

Guitar Hero

This was a guitar hero Christmas. An addicting game that is just as much fun for adults as it is for children. I woke up this morning with the bass line from “Hit me with Your Best Shot” pounding through my brain. My brain chemistry is permanently altered: I now think in rock music. I used to think in HTML. Am I ruined?

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “guitar hero.”

Gather stories

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
All the writers were stirring, wielding the mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
Granting the wordsmiths time to gather their stories;
The characters spoke, the events wove themselves,
As visions of internal worlds danced in their heads;
With fingers flying o’er keys and herbal tea at the ready,
The writers settled into the quiet and let the stories grow,
From all that typing there arose such a clatter,
Words sprang from the fingers like prancers and dancers.
Away through the night they typed like a flash,
Tore open their hearts and threw down the tale.
The story done, they rose from their chairs,
And exclaimed, ere they went to their beds,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “gathering stories.”

Voices

I hear voices. Voices that I think are Alan Alda. I hear Alan Alda everywhere. One of the football announcers sounds just like Alan Alda. My son told me which one of the announcers it is, but I forget who he actually is. Now I hear a guy on public radio named Anthony Kune (no idea if that’s spelled right) who sounds just like Alan Alda. Is Alan Alda the most ubquitous male voice on earth, or is it his accent, or what? Henry Higgins would understand this, but I do not.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “voices.”

My Stuff

I enjoy Heather Armstrong’s blog, Dooce. And I’ve been thinking about my stuff lately because of some pointed questions I was asked about getting rid of stuff. In a post titled Feeding An Obsession, Heather talks about her daughter’s obsession with trash: leftover pudding cups and old gum wrappers. I think about little Leta, carefully saving her stuff and I wonder if it’s just a question of age. I used to like stuff. But I’m less and less enamored with having a lot of stuff around. In fact, some days, I’m convinced that stuff is . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “my stuff.”

Dover, Delaware

I typed Dover, Delaware as a topic, thinking I could write something. But I’ve been sitting here in stunned silence looking at a blank page for some time. I seem to want to pray rather than write.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “Dover, Delaware.”

Post Hole Digger

When she came at me with that ice cold post hole digger gadget of hers I cringed. I know you’re supposed to trust your gyno and willingly submit to her probes. I know this. But it’s just not possible to submit willingly. It’s an invasion, and that damn giant Q-tip thingy hurts. The whole experience leaves me shaky and nerve-wracked. Even the poster of the cute kid taped to the ceiling above the crackly paper of the exam table is an affront. . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “post hole digger.”