Category Archives: Random Thoughts

Those random things that happen in a day and end up here.

Neither Here nor There…

28 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by in Life, Metaphors, Random Thoughts

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blurred-background-branches-close-up-788751The days between Christmas and the New Year hold ghosts of past events and restless shadows of what’s to come. Fun’s to be had and still-on-vacation kids are quick to grab at it. Nostalgia gathers in corners, hovering in case memories and distance-pangs evoke tears.

Duty waits in hallways, tinging the air with a faint scent of reckoning: tucking away the excesses of the holidays; finding dreaded proof for life narratives…taxes. Holiday lights sparkle enough to weaken such seriousness, but cannot banish it.

Winter settles in, at least here in Colorado. Wind attacks leaves left like confetti, gathers cold behind clouds and aims it toward naked trees and hatless heads. New light arriving with the solstice hasn’t yet the strength to pull at time.

Soon…soon the short, sharp months of the early year will streak into lives grown lazy with celebration. Measures to be taken, notions to harden into resolutions. Scales to be polished, treadmills eyed.

And a slow missive will be dropped into the year-mail to make its way through days and weeks. A warm breath will hint of promises to come, a smile will be glimpsed as light lengthens.

We’ll wait for Spring.

 

 

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Losing my mind? No, just my phone…

04 Wednesday Apr 2018

Posted by in Life, Random Thoughts

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A funny thing happened on the way to walking my dog: I lost my phone. I can still almost feel its weight in my jeans pocket, have looked everywhere inside the house and out, and it’s definitely gone. That little contraption of metal and plastic that holds more info about me and my life than should reasonably be carried around has escaped into the world.

Well, shit.

I’m not even one of those souls who constantly carries a phone with me. Can’t count the times I’ve left it on the table and then needed it while I’m out and about. But slowly, over the years, I’ve become dependent on the thing, have gotten sophisticated enough to connect to some apps, have begun to feel the migration of brain cells to pocket or bag.

And now it’s gone.      pexels-photo-209660.jpeg

I called the company, suspended the line, ordered another phone, knowing full well that when it arrives, I’ll be bitching about the set-up hassle. And I’ll go back to carrying the thing around, fitfully, and missing the pictures I took with the old one. Feeling stupid for not protecting my property. Hoping no villains have absconded with bytes and bits of my info for their nefarious ends.

Maybe I’ll use the event as a plot device in the latest book. Maybe I’ll come up with a clever bit of business that’ll make the whole experience worth while.

Not bloody likely.

I’ll go through the drill, replace info and leave some hidden. And this time I’ll buy one of those signal finders that locates the errant phone. And I’ll try not to take the technology for granted.

Right.

And November has never felt so long…

21 Monday Nov 2016

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I’m baaaaaaack. I’ve been nursing my psychic wounds (my candidate lost) along with the respiratory virus that will not let go. I almost feel compelled to write a horror movie screenplay to destroy the thing, but haven’t had the energy. And now we’re near Thanksgiving and the swoop into The Holidays.

Good news: I corrected the galley proofs for Wisdom Court Book 3, All in Bad Time. The cover’s been set and we’re getting close to liftoff. Of course I’ll let you know when. I’m excited and hope you readers out there are, too.

Life goes on, my mom always said, and Scarlett O’Hara chimed in with “Tomorrow is another day.” I hope all of you are well and busy with creative projects. I’m planning to continue posting more often since I developed a taste for it during the Halloween marathon. Here’s to a wonderful Thanksgiving for us all. 998584-195

Another Lick and a Promise…

11 Wednesday May 2016

Posted by in Hope, Random Thoughts, Wisdom Court, Writing

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Seedling of narcissus spring flowers growing from ground

Seedling of narcissus spring flowers growing from ground

I’ve been revising like a fool, hoping the revisions aren’t foolish. Thus have Twitter & Facebook lacked for much attention, and I haven’t blogged in a good, long while. So, here’s to spring, my dears, with all the tumult and drama our Colorado springs usually have. Here’s to venturing out to plant seeds and seedlings, even though we know the likelihood of hail and destruction for a few more weeks. Here’s to doing good work and getting enough sleep and finishing the tale.
I’ll be back soon with more reflections about life, liberty, and putting words on the page. Send me good vibes, please, so I’ll see my way clear to the end of the story.

A moment of geese

04 Monday Apr 2016

Posted by in Life, Random Thoughts, Writing

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This morning I returned from the drive to school and got out of the car. A choir of sparrows and chickadees was rehearsing in a nearby tree, nearly drowning out the city-sounds filling my corner of Capitol Hill. Cars grumbled and a truck roared; a motorcycle spewed a raspberry at the skateboarders dodging potholes. A saw whined from a construction site down the street.

A flick of motion overhead caught my eye. Three gray geese skimmed the roofs across the alley as they headed south. Silent, swift, gone before I could do more than let out a breath of appreciation. Their wings sliced through cacophony with synchronized grace, leaving behind the discord.

Three Greylag Geese coming in for landing over a field in formation

I wanted to be like those geese: fast, focused, fully engaged in flight. Following where ideas led, turning aside for no interruption, stopping for nothing. For a moment that yearning cut as sharply through me as their wings had cut through the noise.

And then the day went on.

 

Summertime, and the livin’ is wishful

01 Wednesday Jul 2015

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a reflection of sky is in the quiet river

a reflection of sky by mycola

Wish I were riding an inner tube, straw hat on my head, jug of lemonade attached to the tube with a string. I’d have a book resting on my belly and the water would rock me like a cradle. The sun would go behind a bank of clouds  and the current would turn me toward the weeping willows bending over the river. Would I see an owl peering from a thick old stump? Eyelids heavy, I’d check it out later.

Honeysuckle and flowering elm would perfume the air and my thoughts would thicken like custard. With closed eyes I’d see the deep purple of meditation and hear the droning of bees gathering pollen from the Bouncing Bettys.

Would a fish swish by my foot? I’d wiggle my toes in the cool water and swish it back. A mourning dove would grieve from a tall cottonwood and I’d wonder what secret sorrow moved her to weep.

And then I’d sleep the thick, caramel-rich sleep of a childhood nap. I’d drift through it, serene in the summer day, content to rest and do nothing.

I wish.

Lazy days and Mondays always leave me mumbling, “Wha’?”

29 Monday Jul 2013

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I’m climbing out of jet lag from my trip to Worcester, MA.  Got back Friday and have been searching for brain cells while enjoying the cloudy, rainy weather.  It was raining when I flew out of Boston, so you can thank me for bringing the moisture back home in my suitcase. You’re welcome.

I like Worcester a lot, despite having had every person I told my destination look askance. “Worcester!?”  It’s not as impressive architecturally as Boston, but it has a style of its own, with many big frame houses and lots of greenery.  I loved their art museum, which has an impressive collection that includes paintings by Sargent, Monet, and El Greco, and a twelfth-century Chapter House brought over from France, stone by stone, reassembled inside the museum. (Services therein conducted on Sundays.) The Tower Hill Botanic Garden in nearby Boylston was pure pleasure, from the walk through the woods (where we came upon Pan!) to the folly perched above a path, to the marshland pond where birds could be watched from a rustic gazebo. It provided time out of time, and when did you last find that?

I had a lovely visit with my son and his girlfriend, a gifted chef who cooked the most wonderful gluten-free and vegan food. Their two tiny dogs amused me and kept me from pining for my two dachshunds.  It was a restful, relaxing vacation during which I read ebooks and watched vintage X-Files episodes and slept. (And we went to see “The Conjuring”, which is a pretty decent ghost story.)

Now I’m back and it’s time to return to the issues at hand: finishing A Signal Shown, Book Two of the Wisdom Court Books; and finding nooks and crannies for the belongings of our daughter and her two kiddos, who have moved into Victoria Turtleshell along with their two cats. Our little ark is full: of laughter, tears, books, hope, good intentions, and fur.

It’s nearly August and I’m filled with energy and plans.  The next adventure has begun. Cheers!

All of my excuses are gone…

11 Thursday Apr 2013

Posted by in Ghosts, Hauntings, Random Thoughts, Wisdom Court, Writing

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We had the visit from our son.  Ditto from the old college friend.

I gathered all the relevant info and we completed taxes over the weekend.

I’m not sick anymore.  I’m not on extra taxi duty for the grandchildren anymore.

We survived the incredibly over-hyped blizzard of 2013, April Edition.

I dumped all my cookies and got my Mac to work faster.

It’s too early to plant stuff, unless I cut up the sprouting potato in my kitchen and put pieces into the ground, sans a full moon, and of course with a tip of my hat to St. Patrick, upon whose day potatoes are supposed to be planted.

The laundry falling over the edges of the hamper is just too lame to consider a real excuse.  It is entirely possible to type while nude, and I have clean blankets to wrap around myself when my teeth start chattering.

It’s time to get back to the book.

Kicking, screaming, eyes rolling back into my head, I must go back into A Signal Shown, the second book of the Wisdom Court Trilogy.  My characters are standing in the wings of my mind, arms folded over their chests, toes tapping impatiently.  Even the spirits haunting Wisdom Court have threatened to move to a different old house if I don’t give them some attention.

It’s not that I hate the book.  On the contrary, I love it. I’m crazy about my characters and I know they have tons to tell me about how the plot has thickened while I’ve been Taking Care of Important Things.  And writing will make me feel better because it helps control my inner virago, the one who monotonously shrieks, “Tell me a story, tell me a story.  Tell Me Now!”  Her I’m not so crazy about.

No, I’ve been riding the U.S.S. Avoidance for a while and it hasn’t pulled into port.  Much as it pains me, I’ll have to jump over the side and swim to shore.  If I can steer clear of subsequent grooming rituals, as well as word games to “get my ducks in a row,” I’ll actually get to the computer and Start Again.

First I have to copy edit this blog post.