Terminal Delays

I arrived at the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport right on time. I had a nine-year old in tow. After an interminable line in the blazing sun to check our bags, we reached the Arrivals and Departures board. The flight was scheduled to leave two hours later than anticipated! Within in a few more minutes the delay had stretched to three hours. “Weather in Houston,” was the mantra from the airline officials. Our two pilots sat in the gate seating along with us. Soon every one there was threatening violence against someone who admitted to carrying a chocolate pie. Airline officials promised pre-boarding exceptions to anyone bearing chocolate pie. That doesn’t entertain a nine-year old for long, so we cruised the local eateries, including Amy’s Ice Cream . . .

Please leave your first 50 words on the topic “terminal delays” in a comment.

Advertisements

Band Contest

This is not the way to get to band contest. No, leaving the sheet music behind on the way to a high school band contest is not a good idea. Driving madly back to your own town on a flat tire is not going to improve your performance. Falling down the bandroom steps in your haste and breaking a bone in your foot is going to render you unable to play, or even walk onto the stage where the entire band sits waiting for your arrival.

But if you close the curtain, get carried out, sit down, open the curtains again and then pretend to play, your band can score a One! And you might not even be the only pretender. . .

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

Puppies

Small Blessing

The mini blinds look like Ramen noodles,
It’s possible that we may need another rug,
A lamp cord lies severed from its plug,
The electric blanket ripped and ratty,
Papers on the floor chewed to confetti.
Yes, we are blessed with a new puppy.

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

Daisy

Sharon had a personality like a daisy. Cheerful, bright, warming. But complex and with a lot of depth. She did a great deal of studying of various spiritual practices and tried really hard to apply them to her own life. Humans being the flawed creatures that they are, she didn’t succeed in building the perfect or even a spiritual life. But she tried, which is more than a lot of people do. You know the drill: inappropriate men, scraping by without enough money, decisions that seem stupid only in retrospect.

The best thing about her was her nonjudgemental nature. You felt safe with her, wrapped in a warm cloak of approval and love. People who don’t judge are so rare a commodity . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words about the topic “daisy.”

Hummingbird

I stood before the stove, mesmerized by the pan of sugar water I was boiling up for the hummingbird feeder. The roar of the garbage truck barreling down the alley brought me back from my pot-watching mental time warp. I turned off the heat and set the pan aside to cool.

For several days I had suffered these wandering moments. I couldn’t get my mind off Margie McNamara, the young officer who brought evidence into my forensics lab last week. She . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words about the topic “hummingbird.”

Connection Fees

I hate those connection fees the phone company adds to my bill, almost doubling it. Yet there are all kinds of connection fees in my life that I don’t complain about. I’m connected to all sorts of people via the internet who I’ll never meet in person even though I think of them as friends. Is the fee for that connection my computer and internet service?

How about those plane tickets in my drawer, waiting for my trip to see my daughter. Is that plane fare a connection fee keeping me in touch with my family?

When I go to lunch with a friend, is the price of lunch a connection fee? True, we could stay connected some other way . . .

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

Private Concert

Ella and Sarah stood outside my door. Ella grinned mischeviously and announced, Private Concert. They came through the screen. Sarah sat in my rocking chair while Ella stood in front of the fireplace.

Ella snapped her fingers, setting the beat, and a band appeared behind her. She sang Cow Cow Boogie and Angel Eyes. Wow, two favorites of mine, I thought.

Ella took a bow and Sarah gave the rocker to her, moving to the fireplace-stage. At the first snap of Sarah’s fingers, her band appeared. She started with Misty and moved on to Bring in the Clowns. Another wow, I have such specific and precious memories of times when I heard Sarah sing those songs.

I didn’t care how or why this was happening, I just prayed . . .

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

Calculator

I pulled out my calculator and punched in numbers. No matter how I tried to make it work, there was no way this job offer would earn me enough money to pay my rent and my car payment.

I didn’t know what to do. I’d been looking for a job for too long. I needed a paycheck, any paycheck. If I took a job that didn’t pay enough, would I be ruining my chances at a better job that would let me keep up with basic needs?

My apartment was one of the cheaper in town. My kid needed to eat. Gas prices were driving me nuts. I threw the calculator in a fit of anger. “Why don’t jobs pay enough for people to live on,” I fumed . . .

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

Getting Somewhere

For many years my daily rhythm of life involved getting somewhere and accomplishing something. A month ago I crashed my car into the curb on a dark corner, flipped the car three times, and ended up in this bed. I’ve spent the entire month feeling pretty sorry for myself and complaining a lot. The nurses probably talk about what a pain in the ass I am.

Then yesterday it occurred to me that maybe this whole holding still and lying down while my body heals thing is actually a blessing in disguise. I mean . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words about “getting somewhere.”

Retreat

Hikers in the woods
There were five people scattered in small cabins around the main house. The place was billed as a retreat, where writers could hike in the woods and clear their minds of all the debris of civilization while preparing their next great American novel.

Truth in advertising went out the window the first day, when the police were there all day questioning everyone because one of the cooks was stabbed eleven times with a big knife that police thought might be a kitchen butcher knife. Especially one extremely irritating detective named . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words about “retreat” or about something suggested by the photo.