Life in progress


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#SoCS – A dig in the ribs

Eyes ribbed raw (typo intentional) by blinking eyes and sandpaper eyelids, I type this with my eyes closed tonight. Unable to look at the screen anymore.

Working too hard, I need a dig in the ribs to make me stop. To rest.

I forget what it’s like to take a day off. But I can’t. Not now. Maybe in a few weeks.

No link tonight. You know where to find the SoCS prompt.

Good night.

 

 

SoCS badge by Pamela, at https://achronicalofhope.com/

 

 

 


16 Comments

Qwerty makes Quasimodo (and other long words) Quicker

First, thank you to Ritu for helping me find the title of this post. I don’t think I could have done it without you.

That said, what want to talk about has nothing to do with the title. Which is nothing new, so let’s carry on, shall we?

The day Notre Dame burned, Alex came home from school and asked me why I was sad. Having no way, with my limited vocabulary in sign language, to tell him what had happened, my first thought was of Disney’s “Hunchback of Notre Dame.” So I showed him a picture of the movie, and of Quasimodo at the top of the spire. When he saw it fall in the videos online, he understood.

I’ve been in so many grand cathedrals over the years–Canterbury, St. Pauls and Westminster Abbey in London, Notre Dame Basilica in Montreal, and yes, Notre Dame in Paris, among others–that it’s difficult to remember many specific details of any of them. But the sense of awe when stepping into such a church, of being surrounded by its history, leaves an indelible mark on the soul. When I saw Notre Dame burning, I went quickly from shock to denial and then to grief.

Notre Dame Basilica, Montreal, Quebec, Canada

When all is said and done, Notre Dame is an object. No lives were lost–not even the bees on the roof–which is a miracle all by itself. Still, one can’t help but think we’ve lost so much more than a material thing. Places like that are alive with the spirits of everyone who has walked through their doors.

On a lighter note …

My middle son, Christopher, who is autistic, didn’t start talking until he was four years old. In order to help him out, we bought him computer games to play. There was one, featuring Elmo, that had a mini-game in it to aid kids in learning the alphabet. And it worked! Chris began mimicking Elmo’s voice. For a long while he refused to put sentences together himself–everything he spoke was a line out of a game or a movie. But I distinctly remember one of the first questions he answered independently was, “What is the alphabet?”

Chris quickly answered, “Q W E R T Y U I O P A …” all the way to M. Because he learned the alphabet at the keyboard.

Fascinating how the autistic mind works.

Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “Q” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “Quasimodo,” “quick,” and “QWERTY.”

I don’t need any suggestions for “R” words for tomorrow’s post, because I’ll use SoCS to fulfill my non-duty of writing a non-A-Z post. Watch out for my request for “S” suggestions tomorrow!


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Paula, a psychiatrist, and a pandemic walk into a bar …

It’s been a while since I’ve gone into armchair-psychiatry mode so how’s about a little sit down, eh? While we’re here, why don’t we talk about the theoretical link between the pandemic of depression and social media?

Is there even a link? Let’s imagine for a moment there is.

I don’t want to write an entire dissertation here–I lack both the time and the energy to do research, thus, the armchair. But just grazing on the surface, it’s easy (I think) to see a few different realities that exist in social media that could, quite easily be the cause of depression.

The first and most obvious is the common troll. There are no lengths to which many will not go to attain their goal of making their target miserable. To the point of depression? Perhaps.

Second, the “keeping-up-with-the-Joneses” factor. Being inundated by how good everyone else’s meals look/kids are thriving/vacations turn out/book sales are going (that last one might be personal) can be enough to point out how much yours is/are not. It’s like being a rock in the way of the tide–it’s gonna wear you down eventually. To the point of depression? Maybe.

Third, and possibly least likely–your name isn’t Paula. Because who doesn’t want a name like Paula? (Be nice, Paula is reading your comments.) Could not being called Paula cause depression? Well, you can always change your name, so probably not.

What do you think?

NOTE: I am, in no way trying to make light of the very serious disease that is depression. I’ve suffered it myself, and I understand the debilitating nature of it.

Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “P” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “psychiatry,” “pandemic,” and “Paula.”

I need suggestions for “Q” words for tomorrow’s not the A-Z Challenge post! I’ll take the first three. Note, the comments on my blog are newest on top. One word per person, and please keep ’em clean.

Thank you!


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Oops! No oestrogen for the octogenarian!

Okay, so nobody wants to think about an octogenarian‘s oestrogen. But if I can make a title out of the three words I’m given for my absolutely-not-the-A-Z-Challenge post, it seems I’m compelled to do it. Oops!

Speaking of octogenarians, I didn’t talk to my mother on the phone yesterday, though she called at least 30 times. She has a flip-phone. It’s a new one–they’re manufactured for people like my mum who need something simple to use. Only it turns out, she still can’t figure it out sometimes.

You see, she can open the phone, she can find the numbers she has saved, and she can call. But the moment she hits the enter button to connect the call, an option pops up on the screen that says “Cancel.” For some reason, she cannot resist pushing it when she sees it. So my phone keeps ringing once and stopping, or if I’m really quick, I can pick it up and listen to her hang up on me.

Seriously, the next thing I know I’m going to start getting calls from her, asking if my fridge is running.

What can I say about oestrogen?

You like that spelling?

It’s British for estrogen, in case you hadn’t figured it out.

I like it. Every time I see it, I want to start singing it: “O-estrogen, o-estrogen …” to the tune of “Oh Christmas Tree.”

And now you’ll never hear that song quite the same again.

Oops!

Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “O” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “octogenarian,” “oestrogen,” and “oops.”

Tomorrow’s “P” day! Any suggestions for “P” words for my not the A-Z Challenge post? I’ll take the first three. Note, the comments on my blog are newest on top. One word per person, and please keep ’em clean.

Thank you!


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Nostalgia’s got Nothin’ on the Narwhal

Okay, so I wrote the title and I’ve got nothing. I just didn’t want to delete the title, because I like it.

Who’s to say what a narwhal can remember? Are they capable of a nostalgic moment?

When I was just a little narwhal with a nose-spike only yea long, I used to swim upstream to school, both ways!

(Get it? School? … Fine, narwhals are mammals. Sue me.)

We know elephants are supposed to have good memories.

How about rhinos?

Are rhinos just land-narwhals?

We may never know.

Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “N” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “nothing,” “narwhal,” and “nostalgic.”

I’m in need of suggestions for “O” day, for my absolutely not the A-Z Challenge post tomorrow. One word per person, and please keep ’em clean.

Thank you!


29 Comments

#SoCS – Slip of the lip

I let the lip slip, it seems. Once again, I’m late for my own party.

So I’ll just slip in here, in the back door rather than the grand entrance I really actually never make, and I’ll mingle with the crowd until everyone thinks I’ve always been here.

I know this makes no sense in regards to writing a blog post, but let’s pretend, shall we?

An appetizer? Why thank you.

I hadn’t realized I’d had this little affair catered. With wandering waiters dressed in crisp uniforms and everything!

Cocktail shrimp, anyone?

And a glass of champagne to loosen the lips and make all the guests happy.

And less likely to notice that I was late.

Do you ever feel like you’re just on the cusp of something? I overhear someone ask.

Well, now that you mention it, I do. But I haven’t a clue what it might be. Other than it’s bound to be pleasing. It’s just one of those feelings.

I do too, I say, but they look at me as if I’ve intruded so I walk away, wondering how my own party got so far out of hand.

Ah well. I suppose that’s what I get.

I can’t even enjoy a shindig in my own head.

Unless …

Let’s listen to music! I exclaim over the din of the crowd, and everyone cheers when I put on something everyone likes. Because I can do that at my imaginary party.

And everyone dances. I’m the toast of the party.

The SoCS party.

At least in my head.

 

SoCS badge by Pamela, at https://achronicalofhope.com/

 

This totally off the top of my head post is brought to you by the letter “L,” and by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the following link to find all the participating posts, and join in! It’s fun! https://lindaghill.com/2019/04/12/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-april-13-19/

I’m taking suggestions here for “M” words for Monday’s post. I’ll take the first three, one per person, and please make them safe for work. thank you!

 


23 Comments

#SoCS – Flipping Fabulous

All day, while I’ve been sitting on the couch with my laptop, editing a book, I’ve considered writing my SoCS post about books. About fabricating stories.

The day passed.

I didn’t finish my edit as I’d hoped to.

It was Sunday already by the time I decided to switch off the editing project and start on my SoCS post. So to start, I thought I’d make up my “F” badge for my “absolutely NOT A to Z” post.

And I tried to draw books.

Then I discovered that books aren’t that easy to draw in Paint 3D. They’re so difficult, in fact, that I had to write “BOOK” on my drawing of a book, so everyone would know what it was.

Flipping fabulous, I thought.

So I opened a bottle of wine. Which I am now drinking to celebrate a full day of work that I didn’t get finished, and a pathetic excuse for a picture of a book.

And this, ladies and gentleman, is why I write ’em and edit ’em and don’t draw ’em. Or at the very least, why I get paid to write ’em and edit ’em, but I don’t get paid to draw ’em.

Unless you REEEALLY want to throw me some cash.

But not coins … they hurt when they ping off the noggin’.

I should mention here that I’m open for suggestions for “G” words for Monday’s post. Leave them in the comments, if you please. I’ll take the first three–one per person, must be polite. The words, not the people. But polite people are good, too.

Last words of advice: never drink and blog.

SoCS badge by Pamela, at https://achronicalofhope.com/

Okay, you can drink and blog if you want to.

This post is brought to you by the letter “F,” and by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the following link to find all the participating posts, and join in! It’s *hic* fun! https://lindaghill.com/2019/04/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-april-6-19/

NOTE: This post is NOT a passive-aggressive plea for validation of my mad Paint skillz. It’s just my thoughts as I thunk ’em. … Holy Shamoly! “Thunk” didn’t get a squiggly red line under it!! I’m totally using that word from now on. Or maybe it’s just out of context …

Nope! Looked it up.

thunk

\ ˈthəŋk  \

Definition of thunk

 (Entry 1 of 3)

dialectal past tense and past participle of THINK

Okay, I’m finishing this post now. And I’m turning my editor brain off. Honest.