Here is my Last on the Card for Bushboy’s World taken with my Galaxy A32.
March 31, 2024
March 29, 2024
Flashback Friday
Fandango proposes the idea to share a post from the past. I’ve not been using WP for very long, but I have blogged on other sites. This post was posted in April of 2009 on one of those other blogging sites.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
(The) Resurrection of Joys and Sorrows
As I was driving home from D…’s place, I was contemplating the reason that I really didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to go home to an empty place, (and it felt like it would be so very empty). I reminded myself that I would be there to fill it up. I realized I didn’t want to go home to me. I didn’t want to be alone with myself tonight. How sad is that? (And if I didn’t want to be with me, why would anyone else?)
I usually am okay with being alone with my thoughts, and sometimes really like being alone with me. This meant there was a lot more lurking under the surface. I pried a little. I didn’t want to pry too far while I was driving. Who knew what beasts were awaiting their opportunity to leap up and tear my throat out? Enough beasts from the terrible depths of day-to-day life have already torn through my heart and psyche, that I didn’t have the desire to face any more.
I opened the box that holds the hidden, and rarely bidden secrets, a small crack. Out came an image of my Aunt’s Easter table, a place setting in front of every seat, the seat at the head of the table empty. Every family member attempting to avoid looking, yet casting a sad and surreptitious glance in its direction. Earlier, I told someone that I was glad to not be there. I find, though, that I can’t help but cast a glance with my heart in the direction of my family, and our recently lost.
With that image, the memory of my mother’s passing came. She passed away in April several years ago, just before Easter Sunday. My Aunt Clara had set a place for my Mother at the Easter table. It was loving, and I found it very painful. (And this year, a place is set for my recently departed Aunt Clara.)
With each passing Easter, the joys and sorrows rise to the surface. This year the sorrow is speaking a little louder. The recent injuries to the heart and soul are still somewhat fresh, and have re-opened some of the older wounds.
Some of the joys that were scattered throughout the day were of great benefit. Sharing the UU spirit, and later, a friendly lunch, with my friends, Dar and Chris. Discovering newborn goslings while walking with Dar around Virginia Lake. (And Chris feeling comfortable enough with me to nap in the car instead of walking with us.) Enjoying a movie in the comfort of their home. It’s no wonder I didn’t want to leave. All the joys, everything that felt revitalizing revolved around being in their company.
And now, with some of the sadness lifted, some of the beasts having been tamed by the music of the universe, (or at least music of Mickey Hart), I shall move onto the contemplation of my dinner.
March 28, 2024
Radio – Yesterday and Today
I vaguely remember the days, as a very young toddler, sitting in front of the radio with the family to listen to The George Burns and Gracie Show and other such comedies. On weekends, my Dad would turn on a radio station that played Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, and other classical music.
My first real memories of the radio take place from 1962. Our family had been seduced away from the snow and cold of Michigan to the sunny shores of California. We drove across country in a 1952 Oldsmobile. Driving through Texas, my Dad turned on the radio in hopes of finding something to calm my brother and I down.
He turned the dial, finding only country music and Christian talk radio, until a new sound (to me) reached my ears. I yelled out, “Turn that back! What is that?” My Dad was not thrilled with the music, and even less thrilled when the DJ, Wolfman Jack spoke up, but if it kept my brother and I quiet, he was willing to sacrifice some of his peace to bring peace to the car.
I was shocked to learn that some of the music being played came from Motown, MY TOWN! How did I not know about this?
Later that year, my Dad gave me a transistor radio for my birthday. I could now listen to all the rock ‘n’ roll that my little heart craved.
Over the years, I had become fascinated with other types of radios. My interest really started when I was very young. My Dad was a ham radio operator. He met my mother through her brother, who was a ham in Chicago.
I used a CB Radio for several years, before it got inundated with creepy guys looking to hook up. When I was married, my husband was a ham radio operator. He and I built a 2-meter. (Yes, I was a bit of an electronic’s geek back then.)
These days, I generally only listen to SiriusXM radio in the car, and only if I’m not listening to an audio book.
None of these photos are my original photos but they are similar to the items I owned. (Well, except Wolfman Jack. No one could ever own the Wolfman.}
There are so many stories I could tell, relating to the radio prompt provided by the Writer’s Workshop Prompts for March 28, 2024, and maybe I’ll remember to share some more in the future.
March 27, 2024
March 26, 2024
Whose Fault Was It?
Paul got up to start his day. After performing all his ablutions, he went downstairs, making sure he turned off the alarm at the bottom of the stairs. He noted that his cupboards were nearly empty. He was going to have to make a run out for supplies.
He grabbed his backpack on the way to the garage. He made sure his jeep was full of gas. He watched the garage door creak slowly up, contemplating what this day may hold. He edge the jeep out of the garage. The street was empty, which was typical for this time of day, but he still found it a little unnerving. Last year, there were a few of his neighbors stirring in the neighborhood by this time. Now, many of the homes were abandoned, and the few that stayed behind rarely left their homes.
He took the backroads to his office. He saw Michael’s SUV already parked in the basement garage.
Paul said, ”Hello, Michael,” as he entered the lobby. He learned a few years ago, that Michael needed to be alerted whenever anyone entered a room that he was in, or he’d get really spooked.
Michael turned and gave Paul a nod. He noted that Michael looked more worn out than usual. He imagined that he might appear as worn out to Michael. Neither were getting much sleep, since…. Paul waved that thought away for the moment.
”Michael?”
”Don’t talk to me, right now,” Michael said sternly.
”What?” asked Paul. He looked closer at Michael and realized he looked like he was in shock, ”Hey, what’s up?”
”My Uncle Jack is gone. A pteradactyl snatched him up last night when he went out to grab some dinner.”
Paul’s heart sunk. He really liked Uncle Jack. He had lots of interesting stories to tell of his adventures before everyone was forced to hide from the pteradactyls that spread across the world.
Michael looked up at Paul. ”You’ve got nothing to say? This is all your fault, you know. I told you to stop.”
Paul asked, ”Was everything that happened really all my fault? You and Steven supplied the necessary genetic code that made it possible for me create the first pteradactlyl. After that, all I did was clone a couple more. I had no idea that they could lay eggs at the rate they did.”
Inspired by Fandango’s Story Starter #142 — Was everything that happened really all my fault?
March 25, 2024
Happy Våffeldagen!
Happy våffeldagen!
Here’s a few of my rather sophisticated family members from the 1700s who would have celebrated vaffeldagen as it was originally celebrated in Sweden.
Vårfrudagen was originally the Day of Our Lady, aka the Feast of Annunciation. Over the years, with slight mispronunciation, it became vaffeldagen or ”Waffle Day”. I don’t know if any of my more current relatives in Sweden eat waffles at every meal or if they dress in waffle costumes to party in the streets. It would be fun to find out.
March 24, 2024
Goodnight All
Maybe it’s my age. It’s only 11:30PM and I’m tired. Or maybe, it’s my 2 ½ year old cat who has decided to revert to kittenhood every night this week at midnight. Her antics include walking up and down my supine body, licking my face, and poking at me with a paw.
Either way, I’m too tired, to come up with anything interesting to share with the WordPress family.
A short, quick post for Fandango’s One Word Challenge and Ragtag’s Daily Prompt.
March 23, 2024
#SoCS – Memories of the Room I’m In
I have not lived in my current place long enough for too many memories to be built. Most of my memories are being made now.
The friends who come by most Saturdays to binge watch Doctor Who, while sharing a lot of tasty foods and junk food, are memories I’m building on to cherish as the years go by.
There are a few memories from the last 2 ½ years that hold a place in my heart. Watching my cavies popcorn in their new location was a pleasant surprise. Laying on the floor with Shadow, my eldest cavy, as her life slowly faded away, is a bittersweet and cherished memory.
Adopting a new kitten, who has turned into my best friend and makes me laugh everyday, is one of my best memories. She has filled this room and home with lots of love. And, she has fully embraced her name, Stormagedden, the Dark Lady of All.
Linda G. Hill’s The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS March 23, 2024
March 22, 2024
When Do I Really Start Feeling Like I’m an Adult?
Sometimes, I feel as though I live in a permanent liminal stage between my very early 20s and old age.
Inspired by Ragtag’s Daily Prompt – Liminal.
March 21, 2024
Writer’s Workshop for March 21st – Prompt #2
What can I write in ten sentences? Wait, does that count as a sentence, since it was a question? Oh, no, another question! I have now wasted three of my sentences. Four if you count that last one. Oh, geesh, time to think of something pithy to say. Maybe I should have written about my first airplane trip, instead. At least, that might have taken flight. Well, that will have to happen at some other time. I’ve run out of sentences.
(This was my first time trying out The Sound of One Hand Typing’s weekly Writer’s Workshop Prompts. I chose #2, which was, “Write a post in exactly 10 sentences.”)
yvensong 