I added another free audio short story to my personal YouTube channel today. Hope you enjoy it. A humorous look at romance as a senior citizen.
Three things I absolutely could not live without are my Bible, Something to Write With, and Something to Paint With.
Well, that’s one way of looking at it. But actually, there’s an alternate list. The prompt didn’t ask us to list THE ONLY 3 things we couldn’t live without. The first list is definitely true. But so is my second list: My Bible, Coffee, & Chocolate.
There’s no question that my Bible comes first on either list. I live by God’s Word in every aspect of my life, and it gives me guidance, healing, and sanity in a very disturbed world. But those other two choices — well — they sort of ebb and flow.
There are days when I really do need to write. And my art helps release all the creative energy inside as well as relieve stress. So on some days, I couldn’t stand not being able to write or paint.
But then there are those days when all I need is to feel comforted and cozy and convinced that everything is going to be all right. On those days, numbers 2 and3 are definitely coffee and chocolate — preferably at the same time. 🙂
Oh, my goodness, that is such an easy question to answer. My favorite drink of all time is COFFEE — The elixir of life.
In fact, anyone who has followed my blog for any amount of time could have answered it for me, because they all know I have five specific categories on my website that are dedicated to coffee: ‘Daily Grind Coffee Quotes,’ ‘Coffee Thursday,’ ‘Let’s Talk Coffee,’ ‘Coffee Is a Poem,’ and ‘Coffee Valentines.’ 🙂
Not only that, but I’ve published the Daily Grind Coffee Lover’s Journal, and I am in the process of writing my newest coffee book titled Coffee: The Elixir of Life, which will include articles, poetry, and fabulous pictures with appropriate captions. Added to those activities, I have begun preparing a series of podcasts titled “Let’s Talk Coffee.” They aren’t available for the public yet, but soon.
So, yep, it’s coffee for me — no contest!
A few years ago, with my sincere apologies to Mr. Charles Dickens, I created a series of futuristic vignettes that take a look at a few of the characters of his heart-warming novel and what their lives may have been like decades beyond the words “The End” at the close of his masterpiece. Recently, I decided it would be fun to dig those stories out of my archives and dust them off. Maybe they will make this Christmas a little more fun. These tales are simply the result of my imagination being given free rein, but I offer them in the spirit of the season, hoping you’ll enjoy them. You can also find them in my Christmas anthology Stocking Full of Stories, available from Amazon.
Today’s story focuses on the Spirit of Christmas Past
THE REST OF THE STORY # 3: THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS PAST — REQUEST FOR TRANSFER
“Mr. Alexander, the Spirit of Christmas Past is here for his 2:00 appointment.”
“Send him in.”
As the door opened, his boss could see that Past was unhappy.
“Good to see you, Past. We haven’t had a talk in – what – three or four years?”
“Four years, Sir,” Past said, taking a seat.
“I get a lot of good reports about your work. But you look unhappy. Is something wrong?”
“Yes, Sir. Something’s very wrong!”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Can I help?”
“Well, Sir, I was wondering if I couldn’t trade places with Christmas Present for a while.”
“But you’re an expert at what you do, Past. Why would you want to have to learn a whole new job?”
“Because I never get a chance to use any of the new stuff, sir – any of the new technology and advanced equipment and devices that men have invented in the last several decades. I never get to play video games, or use cell phones, or those gadgets they call iPods. Why, do you realize I’ve never even had a chance to use a computer?”
“Well, I have to admit that I hadn’t given that point any thought, Past, but you don’t need any of those devices in your work, do you?”
That’s just the point, sir. I don’t need any of those things in my work, so I get none of the fun involved with using them. And there’s something else that’s just recently come out – a brand new thing-a-ma-jig that they call Oculus that lets you experience hundreds of different virtual worlds and lets you perform feats and play games that go beyond the imagination!”
“Oculus, huh?”
“Yes sir.”
Mr. Alexander just shook his head in consternation. He didn’t understand all this new-fangled equipment either, but that fact hadn’t bothered him before now. Maybe he was starting to fall behind the times himself. He looked back at Past, unsure what to say because he knew there was no way The Boss would go along with moving Past to a totally new time dimension.
Past looked at him hopefully. “It just isn’t fair, Sir! And that’s why I’m asking for a transfer. I was sure you’d understand when I explained.”
Mr. Alexander leaned back in his chair and looked at Past kindly. “Let me think this over for a bit, Past, and, of course, I’ll have to run it by The Boss.
One week later, Past walked back into Mr. Alexander’s office, having been summoned there to discuss the troubling issue again. When he arrived, he saw several gaily wrapped packages of various sizes on Alexander’s desk.
“Have you just finished your Christmas shopping?” Past asked.
“Not exactly, Past, but I have been doing some shopping for some special gifts.”
He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. “Sit down, Past, and I’ll tell you about these packages.”
Past took his seat, his eyes alight with excitement, and Mr. Alexander stood with his hand on top of one of the larger gifts. “The Boss says we just can’t possibly reassign you to a different job, Past. You’ve been trained specifically for what you do, and you bring centuries of experience into every case you handle. So we need you to stay where you are.”
Immediately Past’s mouth drooped and his eyes lost their light, but before he could say anything, Alexander continued.
“But The Boss and I also understand you naturally feel cheated in certain areas because of the need to focus uniquely on people, facts, and events from a dimension of time that has none of the benefits of the present day. You don’t get to spend any time in the present, and certainly have no possible involvement in what’s coming down the road in the future.
“So –” he turned and lifted one of the gifts, smiling at Past – “we felt the least we could do was to give you some of the devices that you’ve longed for the last several years. You may not get to use them on the job, but you can have fun with them personally in your time off.” At that point, he handed Past the gift he’d been holding.
“Receive this with our deep appreciation for the terrific job you do, Past. And all these other packages as well,” he added, sweeping his hand over the entire collection. “There’s one of everything you mentioned to me in our last meeting, and we hope they will, in some small way, make up for all that you’ve missed out on.”
Past was speechless. He was barely able to reach out and take the package from his boss’ hands. “I’m … I’m … Well, I just don’t know what to say,” he stammered. “All of these are for me?”
“Indeed they are, Past. Enjoy them as much as you can. It’s the least we can do for you considering all the people you’ve helped and the lives you worked so hard to change for good during your many years of faithful service in the … well … you know . . . the past.” ♦
Stay tuned for Parts 4 & 5 over the next two days.
A few years ago, with my sincere apologies to Mr. Charles Dickens, I created a series of futuristic vignettes that take a look at a few of the characters of his heart-warming novel and what their lives may have been like decades beyond the words “The End” at the close of his masterpiece. Recently, I decided it would be fun to dig those stories out of my archives and dust them off. Maybe they will make this Christmas a little more fun. These tales are simply the result of my imagination being given free rein, but I offer them in the spirit of the season, hoping you’ll enjoy them. You can also find them in my Christmas anthology Stocking Full of Stories, available from Amazon.
Today’s story deals with Ebenezer. But be sure and come back for the next 4 days as I tell you “the rest of the story” about Tiny Tim, and the Spirits of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Future.
THE REST OF THE STORY PART 1: EBENEZER THE SUITOR
Ebenezer had never felt his heart stop beating before. Was that what was happening, or was he just forgetting to breathe? He wasn’t sure, but He did know he was looking at the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and he was glad he’d worn the new suit.
“Ebenezer, meet my cousin, Marilee Cratchit,” said Bob.
Marilee extended her hand, and Ebenezer took it, becoming submerged in the magical cloud of her cologne. He’d been nervous about attending this party, but since his regeneration on Christmas day last year, he was welcomed everywhere. Right now he felt ten feet off the ground. It seemed being a kind, generous man really was the most important thing in life.
“Ebeneezer, I’ve been dying to meet you,” Marilee cooed. “Come sit with me and talk.”
His heart danced. He couldn’t believe anyone so beautiful and fragile would be interested in spending time with him. His heart skipped a couple beats as he wondered: was he actually going to get another chance at love?
“What shall we talk about?” he asked her, contemplating ways to express his renewed heart to her. Ever since his transformation, he found that he wanted to tell everyone how good life was when you learned that people are more important than money.
“I’d like to talk about your money, of course!” she said. “They say you’re the richest man in London!”
Disappointed at her words, he answered: “Uh … I don’t know. Is it important?”
“Well it is to me! Without a lot of money one can’t own a fine home, or fashionable clothes, or beautiful jewelry. And there’s no chance to travel and have fun without a lot of money either. Surely you, of all people, know how important it is.”
“Well, I admit that I used to feel that way. In fact it cost me the love a wonderful woman when I was quite young. But last year I had a most unusual experience that taught me a valuable lesson about life.”
“Oh? What lesson was that?”
“That people are much more valuable than money and that unless you care about people money doesn’t really do you any good because no matter how many things you buy with it, it cannot take away loneliness and give you love.”
“Well, I’ll take my chances,” she said. “I do not intend to be poor or to do without all the finer things in life.” She gave him a saucy look, her seductive smile in place. “I may as well warn you, Ebbie, I’m looking for a rich husband, and I have my eye on you.”
He squirmed just a little where he sat and cleared his throat. “Marilee,” he said, “I think perhaps there’s a book you should read. I’ll loan you my copy. It’s a little Christmas story by Charles Dickens.” ♦
I sometimes like to go back and browse through my holiday writings from past years. The poems and stories I wrote 2 or 3 — or 8 oar 10 — years ago meant a lot to me and still do. So I often recycle them when those holidays roll around again. I hope you enjoy these recycled Thanksgiving poems.
`
AH, THANKSGIVING, HOW I LOVE YOU!
Ah, Thanksgiving, how I love you!
Golden crowning jewel of Fall,
Beacon of warmth and cam’raderie,
Sending glad invitation to all:
“Gather to worship; gather to visit;
Gather to focus on all that’s worthwhile;
Feast from tables resplendent with harvest;
Feast on the love in a touch and a smile.”
All the year’s labors weigh heavy upon us.
All the world’s problems seem bigger by far.
But out from that wearisome struggle you call us,
And laying it down, we run to where you are.
And whether in cottages, mansions, or churches,
Community buildings, or tables in parks,
We gather with gratitude full – overflowing;
To the Giver of blessings lift voices and hearts.
Then we return to life’s pattern awaiting.
Filled up with joy, we set off on our way,
Warmer and richer and kinder in spirit
For pausing to celebrate Thanksgiving Day.
***
THANKSGIVING ACROSTIC
Thursdays come and go; in every month there’s four or five.
Hardly anyone’s attention they demand.
Ahh, but there’s one month when Thursday is a special day.
November’s got the situation well in hand.
Kinsmen young & old along with neighbors, best of friends,
Stop their normal labor briefly and, instead,
Gather close, declare a feast, and celebrate all day
In churches, homes, and civic halls – wherever led.
Voices glad and warm with love fill up the heart and soul,
Inviting those attending to lay burdens down.
Neath autumn’s healthy harvest, tables beckon us: so come;
Giving thanks to God, now let us gather ’round.
***
WHAT’S FOR DINNER?
I spot him there, behind the barn,
A full-plumed, regal bird.
He looks up, straight into my eyes.
I speak no single word.
It’s happened thus, in passing years —
At least for two or three:
Each mid-November I’ve set my mind;
He’s been there to greet me.
Now, lifting his head in challenge strong,
He gobbles loud and long.
I lower my gun and heave a sigh:
To kill him would be wrong!
So, wrestling with my double mind,
I trek home to my wife
To explain why, once again this year,
Ham will greet the carving knife.
***
The Word of God says, “A Merry heart does good like a medicine.” (Proverbs 17:22). And Reader’s Digest used to have a joke page with the heading “The most completely lost of all days is that on which one has not laughed.” I agree whole-heartedly with both those sentiments, and I wanted to post something really light-hearted. But I didn’t have time today to write a brand new short story, so I pulled this one from my archives. I wrote it some time ago for a writing challenge, but it still makes me laugh even though I’ve read it a few times now. I hope you get a chuckle out of it too.
ANTHROPOLOGY 101
`
My marriage to an anthropologist was educational – and short. Herman loved his work and was really quite vain about it. He honestly believed that there was no people group that he could not figure out and eventually befriend – even when scores of others in his field had failed.
For years, he had been studying one particular tribe of natives on a tiny island in the Pacific that most ship’s captains refused as a port of call. The tribe was said to be cannibalistic, but my Herman just knew that he could convert them after explaining how much he had studied them in order to become their friend.
On looking back, I suppose that I should have put my foot down and refused when he insisted we honeymoon on the island. But he was so certain that he could convince the natives to help him with his research. So, as usual in our relationship, I acquiesced. My friends and family scolded me for my attitude. They said Herman should be treating me like a goddess rather than just ordering me around and dragging me off to some God-forsaken island to begin our marriage.
When we booked passage on the ship, we had to pay for a skiff as well because the captain told us that he would anchor far offshore, and we would have to go the rest of the way on our own. When we left the ship, he reminded us again what fools he considered us. But Herman insisted that he had everything under control.
We hadn’t been on the island more than an hour before the tribe captured us. They were quite large – both men and women – and exceedingly dark in coloring. They bound Herman immediately and tied him to a large pole at one end of their village. I was shaking like a leaf as they approached me, but they just looked at me with wide eyes and smiles, while making the most excited conversation with each other. I could understand only a very small part of what they said – mainly by their actions.
Then four of them brought a huge carrier – sort of a chair supported between two long poles and carried by the natives. One of the men – seemingly the chief – took my hand and escorted me to the chair. They then carried me ceremoniously into the center of the village and escorted me to an elevated area on which sat a throne – all inlaid with gold. I sat, still quaking inside, but almost too overcome by my curiosity to concentrate on being afraid.
Next they placed a crown of the most exquisite jewels on my head and then bowed down to the ground in front of me. Finally, I spoke and asked in my own language for an explanation, hoping maybe at least one of them would understand me. One young man came forward and spoke to me in my native tongue to explain.
Evidently my golden blond hair was a sign to them. They had been expecting the goddess of their tribe to come to them in person for many years, and the sign of her true identity was that her head would shine like the sun. So I’m to be worshiped and given every one of my heart’s desires forever. I suppose one might say that, in a way, it’s thanks to Herman that I’m being treated like a goddess.
Of course, they prepared a huge feast in celebration of my arrival, and I guess everyone would have to admit that Herman truly did give his all for the cause of getting to know this tribe of people better. Naturally, I declined any food.
I certainly miss Herman, but I have to admit that what worries me more is what will happen when my roots start to grow out.
I’m still working on my coffee poetry book, and I’m thinking about including this poem in the mix. I’m not sure yet, because I’m not positive it’s clear and understandable. If any of you who read it on here have an opinion about whether the point is clear — or confusing — let me know in the comments. Thanks. And — hopefully — you’ll enjoy it.
A CUP OF JOSEPH DANIELS???
I heard the story this way,
And perhaps it’s mostly true:
That way back when, in World War I,
Coffee’s popularity grew.
It seems a Joseph Daniels,
Navy Secretary then,
Made efforts strong to change some things
And bolster moral men.
He instituted new rules
So Navy guys would think,
And contemplate the consequence
Of inebriating drink.
Banned alcohol consumption,
And, naturally, that led
To stewards brewing coffee more
For sailors to drink instead.
According to the legend,
This mark the guys did toe,
But much disgruntled at their loss,
Nicknamed their coffee “Joe.”
Life gets so busy, and I’m finding it harder and harder to post on the website the way I used to. I miss it. And I decided today that it has been entirely too long since I have written some cinquain — or since I have written about coffee. So I decided to combine the two subjects and here’s what I came up with.
PICK-ME-UP
I need
A pick-me-up.
And I know what will work:
A cup of fragrant, fresh-brewed joy —
Coffee!
It’s great
At any time.
One cup won’t be enough.
I feel inspired to brew up a
Full pot.
YES!
🙂
When life gets tough, resort to the doggy wisdom that never fails:
Join Selma’s “Espresso Moments” challenge at this link.
They say March comes in like a lion
And tippy-toes out like a lamb.
But where I live things are all backwards,
And, frankly, I don’t understand.
When March came along all was quiet;
Our lion must have been asleep.
For weeks we’ve had somnolent weather,
Right up to March’s last week.
Now trash cans are tossed to the neighbor’s;
A box on the porch flies around.
The flagpole is bending way over,
And outside I can’t stand my ground.
This last week of March is so gusty
With all sorts of things on the wing.
Our lion has finally wakened
And now wants to prove he’s still king.
Sadje’s “What Do You See?” challenge is really a challenge this week. But I decided to take a whimsical approach and came up with this little poem.
MISSED CALLS
He lived his life connected
To all of cyberspace.
He swiped and clicked and texted
At an amazing pace.
His phone was an appendage
That never left his grip.
To work, to play, to bathroom —
It always made the trip.
There were some friends who warned him
That he was too intense;
His focus on that device
Went beyond common sense.
He couldn’t stop himself though.
At every little ‘ding’
He had to stop whatever,
And bow to that darn thing.
Now, years after his passing,
From underneath the sod,
He still can hear that ‘dinging’
From what he’d made his god.
And though beneath the grasses
He lies in somber state,
His claw-like hands reach for it,
But, alas, it is too late.
Well, like Trent, I had to deal with snow and ice this week. Now I’m a fan of light snow that dusts the trees and fences and looks like a postcard. But when it comes to heavy snow and ice, I have a really hard time finding a smile anywhere. However, I did manage a few.
To begin with, I had to make a trip to a town about 45 minutes away on the day the ice was supposed to begin, so I planned things in order to be home before it started. I allowed for it to begin an hour or so earlier than the forecast — I thought. Unfortunately, I was off a little, and before I was quite finished with my visit in that town, the ice started coming down fast and furious. It had my car covered in no time, and I scurried to get myself out of town and on the road home.
The streets in town were already treacherous, but when I got out of town on a long stretch of winding road bordered by large farmland on both sides, the ride got even more serious. I drove in 3rd gear most of the way, but switched to 2nd on the serious curves — of which there were several. Tedious and tense are the best descriptors I can come up with. And did I remember to say I prayed all the way? Well, I did.
But at last, I pulled safely into my driveway, thanks to the dear Lord, and that brought a smile.
The next day I found my yard, my drive, and my car, covered by a heavy layer of ice and then snow. Now, although the official measurement would have kept the snow accumulation at about 6 inches — which is fairly normal for our area of Southern Illinois — the drifts at my house and against my car were more like a foot. No smiles there.
But then I thought about the birds, and due to the fact that I had stocked up on necessities beforehand, I had an extra quarter loaf of bread that was nearing it’s end date, as well as part of a bag of cookies that had been there over 3 months, and I knew I wouldn’t finish them. I also had a half package of frozen waffles which I had forgotten about and bought a new package. So I had lots to feed the birdies, and over the next 3 days, I parceled out all those things — and one or two other munchies I dug out — and when the birds all came to enjoy their feasts, I smiled.
Then at last — after three days of work — late Sunday afternoon, I finally got my car dug out. I still had to wade through drifts almost a foot high to get to one side of the car, but I managed. And believe me, I smiled.
But even better than that: yesterday, I actually got out of my driveway and went to the store and the post office. I was a free woman again, and that gave me the biggest smile of all. 🙂
To take part in “The Weekly Smile,” visit Trent’s Blog for details.
The Happy Wordcrafter 