I Guess I’m Just a Book Club Dropout

MOBY DICK
People often ask me what I like to read, but almost no one asks me what I do not like to read. I wonder why? Well … of course, I know why. They just aren’t interested in what I don’t like to read, and I don’t blame them. I’m not interested either.

However, today I got to thinking about several authors whose works I do not like. Actually, the list is very, very, very long, but I didn’t have much time to post today, so I’ve narrowed it down to the ones that came to mind quickly. Now, my total lack of appreciation of these authors’ efforts does not mean that they do not have a talent for writing. It just means — simply — that I don’t appreciate their talent.

I do not like works by Nicholas Sparks, and I won’t go to the strenuous mental effort it takes to read Herman Melville or Victor Hugo. (At least, now that I’m out of school and don’t have to.) Stephen King and J. R. R. Tolkien are on my hit list, along with C. S. Lewis. And I absolutely despise works by Hemingway and Dr. Seuss.

When all is said and done, I doubt that there’s a book club anywhere in the world that wants me for a member.  

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‘Man With A Gun’ — Writing Challenge — Week 1

GUN - BLUEAt some point in my past, I read that Raymond Carver once offered advice to writers about what to do if their stories seemed to lag or hit a boring place. His suggestion was to have a man come through a door with a gun in his hand.

That idea intrigued me – much more than I expected – and, as a result, I decided to set myself a challenge — as follows: I am committing to write one story for every Saturday in August, in which – at some point in time – whether fitting or not – a man or woman does walk through a door with a gun.

During this exercise, I am going to do very little editing of my stories. Rather I will simply begin writing with whatever idea comes to mind and continue until the gunman appears on the scene. After that point, whatever happens ….

I’m hoping my readers will enjoy this experiment with me, but I also thought that some of you out there would like to participate and do your own “man-with-a-gun” stories.

If you do, please post the links to your stories in the “Comments” section of my story for that week. I’m posting a story today. If you write a story any day this week before next Saturday, please post your link in the “Comments” of my story that is dated today. If you want to wait and post only on Saturdays, I will try to have mine up each of the next four Saturdays by 12:01 a.m. – U.S. Central Daylight Savings time. That way, hopefully, many of my readers in other countries will be able to post at the start of their day if they choose.

I’m not setting any word limit, but if we try to keep them to 1500 words or less, I think we will have an easier time visiting each other’s blogs and reading everyone’s stories – that is if anyone else takes part. I hope you do.

Feel free to start this exercise at any time, or to write only one or two stories if you don’t have time for five. Frankly, I have no idea if I will meet the challenge or not, but I’m at least taking the plunge. And please remember that my blog does not post “R” or “X” rated material.

My first story is below:

TONY’S PROPOSAL

ENGAGEMENT RING CLIP ARTTony couldn’t wait to get to work and tell his colleagues about the lottery ticket. He had never won anything in his life, but yesterday his bad luck had turned to good. Granted, he had won a small game – the prize was just $300.00 dollars – but to Tony, who always seemed to be on the losing end of everything he took part in, this win had him sailing along ten feet above the ground.

As he opened the door of the book store, he saw that Marie, the secretary/accountant was already at work. “Hey, Marie,” he called from the door and then skidded up to her desk, “guess what happened to me last night.”

“Hmmm,” she answered, only half paying attention as she pulled up the program she needed on her computer. “Let’s see … . Oh, I know … you won the lottery.”

She swung around and glanced at Tony when she said it, and noticed that he looked somewhat crestfallen. “That’s a lousy thing to guess,” he complained.

“Why?”

“Because that’s exactly what I did, and I was just sure you’d all be astounded.”

By that time the other two employees had arrived and were standing beside Marie’s desk. “You mean you really did win the lottery?” Randall asked.

“Well, not the biggy, but —” he grinned at each one of them individually. “But I did win $300.00.”

“Hey, congratulations,” Peter said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Way to go. Does that mean you’re treating us all to lunch?”

Tony hung his head for a second and then looked up at them sheepishly. “Well, to tell you the truth, I have it earmarked for something else already.”

“I know!” said Marie, her eyes alight. “You’re going to buy Sarah an engagement ring.”

Tony looked at her in astonishment. “For heaven’s sake, Marie, what are you – a mind reader?”

Marie shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t blame me if I’m just super smart.” Then she grinned conspiratorially. “Want me to help pick it out?”

Tony lifted his head in what he wanted to pass for a look of sophistication, but which really made him look more like a schoolboy with a pout. “ I already have it picked out, thank you. It’s a little more than the $300.00, but I have a small amount in a savings account.”

Randall spoke up then. “So, when are you going to give it to her?

“I think I’ll take her to dinner this Saturday and ask her to marry me while we’re at the restaurant.”

“Sounds good. Where are you going?”

“I’ll book a reservation at The Coral Reef – a table by the window so we can watch the sun set over the beach. I want all the romance I can get going for me because I’m not positive Sarah has marriage in her plans. She likes her independence.”

“Well, that’s the perfect place.” said Marie, just as the bell rang over the front door. “Oops, time to get to work.”

But this customer wasn’t a regular. He had a large scarf tied triangularly over his nose and mouth, and he carried a gun.

All four of the employees froze, and without being told to do so, lifted their hands in the air.

“That’s it. Nice and easy, and nobody gets hurt,” said the gunman. He looked at Marie. “Now, girlie, you just walk over to that cash register – nice and slow – and take out all the money and put it in this here bag,” he said, as he tossed an old cloth drawstring bag onto the counter beside the register. Then lay your purse down right beside the bag. And the rest of you,” he added, pointing the gun more robustly toward the three men, “start taking out your wallets; empty your pockets, and put it all in the bag.”

Tony sucked in his breath. He had cashed in the lottery ticket and had the $300.00 in his wallet. He couldn’t let this man steal the money for Sarah’s ring. “Now, wait just a minute!” he said, dropping his hands to his sides. The gunman jumped forward and pushed the gun to within two feet of Tony’s nose.

“No funny business. Empty all those pockets!”

“I will not! I have something important to do with my money, and you can’t have it.”

The gunman stepped even closer. “Look, Buddy, don’t be a fool. Empty those pockets before I get tired of waiting.”

“You have no right to my money or anyone else’s!” Tony said, throwing his left arm toward the man on an angle – just enough to throw the gunman off balance and cause an involuntary reaction in his hand. His hold on the gun was broken for only a couple seconds, but it was enough for Tony to grab the gun and turn it on the thief. His friends dropped their hands, and Tony asked Marie to call the police.

The robber’s eyes were huge with fear, and before anyone could even guess what he was going to do, he had turned and made for the door. Tony shot into the air, hoping to frighten him into stopping. It worked, but only momentarily. The man didn’t look back. His intuition told him that if Tony had been going to shoot him, he would have done it the first time he pulled the trigger, so the man snatched the door open and hurled himself through it, falling onto the sidewalk and rolling several feet. But he jumped up and started running before the others could collect their wits enough to try to stop him.

“Whew!” Randall said, and he knew he spoke for all of them, as they wiped sweat from their brows and upper lips and tried to get their stomachs to relax and their hands to stop shaking. Marie went back to her desk and slumped into the chair. Fifteen minutes later, the police arrived and took their statements – as well as the gun.

When the police had left, and the store was quiet once more, Marie looked at Tony. “You are the most romantic man I’ve ever known,” she said.

He looked dumbfounded. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Why, you risked your life to keep from giving up the money to buy an engagement ring for the woman you love. You really are a gallant knight.”

Tony grinned. “Maybe I’ll be sure and tell Sarah the whole story before I propose. She surely couldn’t turn down a man who was willing to risk his life to give her an engagement ring.” He sighed. “And just think: I may owe my success with this proposal to that guy with the gun. I’m kind of glad I didn’t kill him.”

~ ~ ~

A Mouse Is A Mouse — Or Is It?

I originally posted this poem about 2 years ago, but I got into a conversation last night which brought me face to face with the fact that I have never yet solved this dilemma. The experience reminded me of the poem, so I thought I’d drag it out of the archives and back into the light today.
MOUSE 3

Is it mouses, or is it mice?
I’ve asked this question more than twice.
As I sit before my monitor,
I’m quite sure I am just not sure.

When two computers I must use,
All the appendages come in two’s.
I shuffle keyboards, arrange them nice, 
But then I must hook up the … mice?

My only other choice is “mouses.”COMPUTER MOUSE WITH COLOR EDITED
My sensitive nature that arouses.
For an English teacher I’ll always be,
And “mouses” chafes and nettles me.

Surely “mice” should be allowed,
But then I start to laugh out loud.
Confound that name! How did it start?COMPUTER MOUSE WITH COLOR 3
Bill English and Doug Engelbart!      

It’s all their fault; they must admit.
And foolish names are such a hit.
And dictionaries help not at all;
They make it an individual’s call.

So back again to where I was,
More frustrated now because
As I struggled to name the counterfeit,
Its namesake from my sandwich bit.

~~~

Retired But Kindly Remembered

We’re not likely to see this sprayer in use on any orchards in this generation, but isn’t it nice to know someone appreciated its value from latter days enough to keep it in such good shape and display it?
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Daily Post Prompt: Object Lesson – OR – What’s Life Without a Cup of Coffee?

The “Daily Post” prompt today challenges us to write about an object strongly associated with us personally.  Here is the challenge in their own words:  “Sherlock Holmes had his pipe. Dorothy had her red shoes. Batman had his Batmobile. If we asked your friends what object they most immediately associate with you, what would they answer?”

COFFEE MAN - RED,YELLOW
Okay, let’s see. There are a number of things I could suggest, but most of those would be red herrings, because I’m pretty positive that nine out of every ten people would say that if they had to choose one object they immediately associated with me, they would say a cup of coffee.

Yep, coffee. And I’m not talking about cappuccinos, lattes, or any of the myriads of other specialty drinks that people clump into the category of coffee. Nope. I’m talking plain old, unpretentious, unsophisticated coffee. However, it has to be fresh-brewed and just the RIGHT temperature. I don’t want it to scald my tongue, but I want it to be hot enough to stay that way for a while. And my day always goes better if I have a microwave handy somewhere so that I can warm it up if necessary.

Why is coffee so much a part of my life?  Am I addicted?  Well, I don’t think so — at least not in the usual sense. I can drink either caffeinated or de-caff, and I generally can’t tell the difference. Of course, I’m sure if I never drank anything except de-caff, I would eventually be able to tell. But the thing is that I seldom actually DRINK more than 2 or 3 cups of coffee in a 24-hour period. (And some days, I actually drink hot tea instead).

Here’s what happens: I carry a cup around with me — during my morning rituals, during my working day, sitting at my computer or with a book in the evening, visiting with friends, conducting a meeting. It’s just there. I take a sip or two, maybe another, and then half an hour later look for a place to warm up the remainder so that I can take another sip or two.  I don’t seem to feel the need for caffeine as much as I feel the need to have something warm to sip on throughout the day and evening — or maybe even to just hold in my hands, knowing I can take a sip if I want to.

I think maybe there is an “addiction,” but it is an addiction to the comfort of that cup of coffee. It goes way back to the days of earliest child hood. My parents were big coffee drinkers. They always made a pot in the morning, often another at noon, and another in the evening. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee actually has the power to soothe and comfort me more than any other aroma I can think of. Because all those years of being safe and loved and treasured in a home where peace and security were dominant environments in my life are indelibly connected to that delightful aroma.

I can remember so many happy experiences in my life — family meals, visits from beloved friends and relatives, quiet evenings on the porch, when that cup of coffee was so much a part of the experience that it just would not have been the same experience at all without it. And other times when some kind of trauma had come into our lives — severe storms and time spent in storm shelters, the death of a loved one, a local or national catastrophe that affected everyone in our town — during those times, the one thing that often pulled our thoughts and emotions back into balance was someone putting on a pot of coffee.

My sister and I were allowed to have coffee on some of those occasions, but only if we put in lots of cream and some sugar. Mom and Dad figured that if our cup was only 3/4 full, and half of that was milk or cream, then we weren’t getting too much coffee. As I grew into adulthood, of course, I was able to decide exactly how much cream and sugar balanced out the coffee, and gradually, I left off the sugar as one more way to avoid gaining weight. Many years after I reached adulthood, I was battling a nauseous stomach and, on a whim, tried a little coffee black. That cup settled my stomach so effectively that I’ve taken my coffee black every since.

I’m great friends with many people who do not drink coffee. And, in fact, my husband of 22 years could not stand it at all. (However, he was very gracious about buying it and even making it on occasion for me and any visitors who did enjoy it.)  I also know people who insist that coffee is bad for our health. But several recent scientific and medical research reports have come to my rescue on that score. There are numerous articles in print right now that praise the health benefits of coffee on several different levels.

And my personal response to people who try to defame coffee because of its caffeine is that God says he made the seeds and fruit of the trees for man to eat. That coffee bean is the fruit of a plant, and inherent in that been is the caffeine. It is not something we humans added. If God put caffeine into that coffee bean, then it has something in it that’s good for us.

I need to add that I’m sure people can live a totally happy, and delightful life without ever drinking one cup of coffee. I tried to write that as my closing remark, but — to be honest — really, really honest — I’m not sure I believe that.

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Lucy’s Wish

My great-niece, Lucy, is 3 years old. She has two older brothers, but she has been wishing, this whole past year, for a little sister. When I was with the family recently, her mother told me how serious she is and how fervent is her wishing.
After I returned home, I was still thinking about little Lucy and her wish — and about how happy my sister and I were to have each other. We got along admirably together from the time we were mere toddlers, and have shared each others joys and sorrows all of our adult lives. I am so blessed to have her and cannot imagine my life without a sister.
So as my heart went out to Lucy, I began to write this poem. I gave her a copy, of course, but I thought I’d share it here as — well — just as a way of celebrating sisterhood.

FRILLY VINE - FLIPPED

LUCY IN CROWN - ARCH
Photo by Brenda Calvert

 

LUCY’S WISH

I wish I had a sister who could play with me.
But all I have are brothers; there are two.
A sister, though, would understand me perfectly,
And want to do the things I like to do.

We’d surely play with dollies and have them to tea,
And make believe we’re mommies, she and I.
We’d clean our house and cook our food so pleasantly,
And after working sit down with a sigh.

We’d both pretend that we were princesses so fair,
And dress up in high heels and crowns we’d wear,
And dream that someday we’d each meet a darling prince,
And, with them, happiness forever share.

I love my two big brothers; I’m so proud of them,
And to them with my love I’ll always cling.
But, oh, to have a sister of my very own —
Why, that would be an almost perfect thing!

FRILLY VINE - FLIPPED

~~~

Waters of Rest

TERRY'S PIC - PERRY CREEK - brightened
“The Lord is my shepherd;  I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;
He leadeth me beside the still waters of rest;
He restoreth my soul … .”

(Psalm 23:1-3)
Thanks to my friend Terry for this perfect picture of peace.

 

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Five-Sentence Fiction — ‘The Next Page’

This week’s 5-Sentence-Fiction prompt is “Pages.”
`

BOOK - LIFE OF STONEWHEELER

 

THE NEXT PAGE

 

He turned the crusty pages of the 100-year-old biography he’d found in his great-great grandfather’s library – his touch gentle – reverent even – and his eyes anxious. The title – The Exceptional Life of Benjamin Stonewheeler – had grabbed his attention immediately because that name was also his. He had first assumed the book must be the biography of his grandfather, who had been Benjamin Stonewheeler the First, but none of the events in the story were descriptive of his grandfather’s life.

Instead, they described every major aspect of his own life through this current year – his 50th – but as the story continued, he was already another twenty-seven years into the future, living through experiences that he felt he should remember, but, of course, did not. This 15th chapter was recounting one particularly fateful day in that future – a day that found his life literally hanging in the balance – and with only two chapters remaining until the end of the book, he held his breath as he turned to the next page.

~~~

 

`Lillie McFerrin Writes

 

Counting Countries

MAP - COLORED COUNTRIES
It just dawned on me today that when I changed my theme a couple months ago, I did not put my flag and visitor counter back into my sidebar. Unfortunately, that means I didn’t get a count of all the fine folks who have stopped by to spend time with me lately. So I’ve remedied that situation, but all this thinking about flags and countries reminded me of something I learned this week in connection with the flag counter on my “Healing From Jesus” blog. That counter shows visitors from 95 different countries, and I got to thinking that I don’t really know exactly how many countries there are in the world.

Now, that fact made me feel a little bad, because most of my life as a teacher, I taught, not only English and writing, but also various history subjects, including world history. And, naturally, I felt a little guilty not knowing the exact count of countries. But I consoled myself with the fact that, after all, I have not actively taught those subjects for at least 15 years, and we do have changes in countries from time to time. Periodically, we get a new one or two when another group of people declares their independence, and then we also occasionally see the development of federations of two tiny countries into one governmental entity.

So, now that I don’t feel so bad, I thought perhaps there are several other people out there who may not know exactly how many countries we have either. And perhaps you would like to know, so I found out. We have 242 countries in our world. And actually, nine of those are some form of federation formed by two smaller countries coming into agreement to unite under one government.

Now, the nicest thing about this knowledge is the fact that, through my blogs, I have come to know and appreciate so many, many, many people from quite a few of those countries. And now that I realize there are 242 countries in all, and that I have so many more countries to acquaint myself with in the future – and so many more wonderful people to get to know – I find that I feel quite excited and expectant.

 

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21 Items the Well-Prepared Woman Has With Her at All Times


WOMAN'S FACE1. Chocolate

2. Peanut Butter & Crackers

 3. Small package of Kleenex

 4. Individually-wrapped anti-bacterial wipes

 5. Extra chocolate

 6. Bottle of water

 7. A delightful book

 8. Dental floss

 9.  Two Pens

10. Notepaper

11. Extra chocolate

12. Two Band-aids

13. A nail file

14. Two Safety pins

15. Two paper clips

16. Extra chocolate

17. Compact with mirror

18. Comb

19. $5.00 in immediately spendable currency

20. A big smile

21. Extra chocolate

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Happiness is a Picture

YELLOW LUTH. CHURCH. (Wikiped)  St_Johns_Lutheran_Church_Rabbit_Hill_Alberta_Canada_02A - WIDENED

This is St. John’s Lutheran Church in Rabbit Hill, Alberta, Canada.  It has no particular significance for me other than the fact that when I look at it, it makes me feel happy.  Thought I’d share it.

 

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