Today’s Special

Five a Day

You’ve being exiled to a private island, and your captors will only supply you with five foods. What do you pick?

This took me awhile to figure out. But when I did I went straight for my bathroom mirror and kissed my reflection.

:::DRUMROLL PLEASE:::

I would take:

J sometimes referred to in some circles as G

( old , tough and  probably gristly but  it’s soaked in wine so I’m sure it’s  good for broth making )

C

( definitely good for roasting )

S

( a little of this goes a long way )

T

( Oh, why not)

and of course

E

( no taste at all- for garnish only  )

So is this me being clever?

Do I intend to take as many food stuffs with those letters with me to the nowhere place that I’m going to be sent to?

Uh.

No.

All I can say is, I’m well schooled in human anatomy, corpses hold no fear for me I’m one hell of a cook and I’ll eat like a queen till help arrives.

You know.

Help for me.

Not them.

For them it would be too late.

 

My Favorite Things

As writer I am inspired by a lot of things:

Love

Music

The works of M.R. James

Music

Music

The works of

Franz von Stuck

( The Temptation of Saint Anthony)

and swimming puppies!

YAY YAY YAY

If I Only Had A Brain…Or Two

DAILY PROMPT

Clone Wars

If you could clone yourself, how would you split up your responsibilities?

 Writing is about the only thing I can make myself do.

I can do it on my bad days, my good days even on days when I don’t have anything to say.

So if I could clone myself what crud jobs would I give my secondary me?

I’d have that ‘me’ do all my caretaking stuff- the day to day grind- the housework, the cooking- almost everything except for my day job and taking care of my cats and dog.

But the reality is, I hate that stuff myself and when I slack off I don’t feel bad about it.

So how would I get my clone to do it?

I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, me and my clone would agree to blow it off.

I know myself, if I don’t want to give I don’t.

However, I’ll bet if my clone and I put our heads together we could find someone else to do the work for the BOTH of us.

And The Truth Shall Send You Straight To The Principal’s Office

Daily Prompt

Truth or Dare

Is it possible to be too honest, or is honesty always the best policy?

Of course honesty is the best policy.

Honesty earns you trust and respect.

On the other hand, we’ve seen honesty used as a blunt instrument in many a murder of the heart and mind haven’t we?

So, that led me to wonder, are you being honest when you take the truth, twist it around someone’s neck until they turn blue and their tongue pops out of their mouth and they are for sure dead?

I don’t think so, I think at that point you used honesty for your own personal gain that makes it a lie.

 

When I was a kid one of my classmates referred to me as ‘ the black cat sitting on a Cadillac’. It was a TV jingle at the time. But before you knew it I was being called a Black Cat by everyone…she would not stop. So one day I hauled off and punched her in the eye and ended up in the Principal’s office with my Teacher- who was very fond of grabbing me by hair on the top or back of my head and shaking it  from side to side to get my attention.

In fact, that’s how she got me to the office that day. Dragging me down past my classmates, other teachers and a janitor by the hair on the back of my head.

Nobody looked surprised.

So, we get into the office and the Principal and Teacher tell me, in all honesty ( they said )  that it wasn’t my classmate’s FAULT that I was different. I was told -almost kindly- by our Principal that I looked different and what I NEEDED to do was develop a sense of humor about BEING DIFFERENT from everyone else.

And then they brought my classmate in – with her Mother who they called right away ( my Mom got a note two days later) and told me I needed to apologize.

I looked into those self righteous  faces, and into my classmate’s smirking expectant one- and from the bottom of my racing little heart-  in all honesty-  and on the verge of tears said with amazement

” That shiner is a beaut, isn’t it?”

From Me To You

Happy Disembodied Heart Day Everyone!

XOXO

amm

Really?

Just a thought:

Sometimes when I mention I used to work in a Funeral Home some people  will say that they always wanted to do that work because

” They feel comfortable in a funeral home” , that they think death is “beautiful”, and dead bodies don’t ‘bother’ them.

For the most part I listen politely.

But this is how I really feel:

The living VISIT funeral homes, even the people who work there. It’s not your home, it’s a weigh station for the dead.

Show some respect for that. It’s not a club house.

Death is NOT beautiful.

It’s brutal.

It takes babies and children, old people, good people, bad people, beloved pets .It takes you when you’re happy, vulnerable, when you’re sad and depressed and lonely,  when you’re driving your car or just living your life and minding your own business.

How messed up is that?

Like Lister said in Red Dwarf, ” If Death comes near me, I’ll rip it’s nipples off “

For the most part that’s how I feel about death.

Bastard.

And FYI dead bodies SHOULD bother you.

They should make you think, feel, react, run, vomit SOMETHING.

Once there was all the hope in the world for that dead person and now it’s gone.

No more chances, no more reset, you get put into the ground or and urn and that’s all she wrote folks.

So please, if you want to work in a Funeral Home remember you are in service to the living and your job is to care for their loved one who has passed.

You’re not ‘of the night’.

You’re of the living and if you forget that you’re not going to be of much help to anyone.

I’m Pretty Sure You Don’t Want To Do That

Daily Prompt

Buffalo Nickel

Dig through your couch cushions, your purse, or the floor of your car and look at the year printed on the first coin you find. What were you doing that year?

 

About 17 years ago I lost 50.00.

I was shopping and I’m pretty sure that when I reached into my unorganized purse and pulled out my unorganized wallet the 50.00 dropped out.

Do you know what really made me mad?

It wasn’t that I lost the  50.00- though that did sting. No. What really made me mad was that some lucky ducky found 50.00.

I have never looked down and found anything larger then a penny.

That’s what really made me mad- in my life I have never been that lucky but on that day I sure as Hell made sure somebody else was.

So ever since that black marked day I don’t carry cash.

I use my debit card.

And here’s the reason why.

When I was in high school I went to church with my friend.

Her Church was one of those people speaking in tongues and writhing in the aisles with snakes kind of church.

It was better then any horror movie because  the feeling in that church was dark and oppressive and if something would have reached up through the floor  in an explosion of brick and mortar  and faded plum colored carpeting and pulled us down  one by one and  kicking and screaming and dripping entrails all the way through the gates of Hell..I wouldn’t have been surprised

But on that day they were going on about people being marked with numbers- specifically credit card numbers.

That was how Satan was going to mark us…so whatever you do, don’t get one of those cards.

No problem. I was like 17 at the time. I didn’t see myself to ever be in a position to be ‘marked by Satan’.

It was shortly after I lost that money and made someone else very lucky I remembered that day in the Church- how we would be marked and cursed and turned into Demons doing the Devil’s work for all of eternity  if we got numbered.

Oh really? I thought. Is that how it works? Because I was tired of being the softie who gave in ( most of the time m)  with just about everyone in my life…my kids, my job, holding the doors open for people, and now apparently I am throwing money around like confetti at a New Years Eve Party.

I dug through my desk drawer, found my Debit card, activated it and since then I haven’t carried cash. I’ll be damned ( literally ) if I ever make someone’s day like that again.

I must say though:

When I pull that card out I feel wicked.

Very wicked.

And it feels….good.

The Clown Car

DAILY PROMPT

First Light

Remember when you wrote down the first thought you had this morning? Great. Now write a post about it.

 

 Every morning I take the same bus with the same people to the Transit Center ( they don’t call it a Park and Ride anymore ).

I like my bus driver, I like most of the people I ride with.

” Most ” being the keyword here.

One of the passengers is, as a very young commuter once pointed out,  a ‘motor mouth’.

She will ask me a question and then answer it herself.

So I let her do all the talking.

Does she do that to the other passengers?

Nope.

And in the event I can get a word edgewise I’m always wrong.

Brother.

And then there are the three jackasses on the second bus I catch.

These three guys all get on the commuter bus together- they each take a seat, put there backpacks or jackets or whatever next to them and then they lower the backs of their seats so far that it’s impossible to sit behind them.

And then they pretend to sleep- so nobody sits next to them and you can’t get to the seat behind them without climbing over  one seat to take the one they’re not using as a futon.

So this morning when my alarm went off and before I opened my eyes I saw those four doughy faces and I wondered if it was possible that today is the we get hit by a planet killer asteroid and the earth turns to dust or we get zapped by a gamma ray  and if today is not the day, what can I do to make it happen?

But I got myself up, did my morning routine went to my bus stop and did I play with my phone, stand on the corner away from the Motor Mouth like a couple of other people have taken to do after hearing her ‘talk’ to me?

Nope.

 I said my good morning and looked straight and stood a few feet away from her.

When she started with our one way conversation I stopped her mid sentence and said, ” I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?”

When the bus showed up I got on and prepared for round two on the Commuter Bus.

My little sleeping beauties were settled into their seats and I chose one, sat right behind him, pulled out my notebook ( and not the electronic ones, it’s an old school binder and weighs about five pounds ) and used his head rest as a table.

When he turned around to glare at me I said ” Oh gee, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

” Can you move that?” he asked.

” No. It’s pretty heavy and I’m stuck.”

He got up, moved to the seat occupied by his jacket and as he did a woman with the big, I mean a HUGE purse sat next to him.

She proceeded to pull her phone out of her bag and and as she did I saw her elbow her seatmate a few times.

With my compliments, I thought merrily to myself.

At this point I may have said it out loud though.

At least, I hope I did.

So this morning before I opened my eyes I guess I had revenge in my heart.

And when my eyes were completely opened it sort of poured out of me like chocolate from one of those giant chocolate fountains they have had weddings and fancy parties.

It’s funny how that happens sometimes.

 

 

Give It To Someone You Love…

Give It To Someone You Love To

Death

Can You Hear Me?

You can imagine terror, pain, darkness.

To have it actually living in your head  can’t be expressed in words…

if you’re lucky

Good Girl! Good Girl!

DAILY PROMPT

Proud

When was the last time someone told you they were proud of you?

 

 

A few years ago I became weary of people who repeatedly told me how proud they were of me.

I’m not sure why I felt that way, but a couple of people seemed to say it non-stop and it got on my nerves.

 Not that I’m one of those people who say, ‘ I don’t care what people think  of me’ because I do. I care a lot. I guess I’m just a wad of insecurities.

But when I heard, ” I’m so proud of you.” I realized, recently, that I tell my puppy the same thing.

When he does what I tell him to do.

When he performs to my expectations.

I am so proud of him for being what I want him to be.

Mrs. Daisy’s Daycare

Parenting is scary, just like Mrs. Daisy says.

Darn

Do you know what is on the side of the Moon that faces away from the Earth- the mysterious side?

Craters.

Lots and lots of craters.

Not a single one of those Spiders that hatch from rocks, no ghost ships.

Just Craters.

Lots and Lots of Craters.

Darn.

Death Lives In A Haunted House

DAILY POST 

Free Association

Write down the first words that comes to mind when we say . . .

. . . home.

. . . soil.

. . . rain.

Use those words in the title of your post.

 

I know this house with the missing windows, the door that only locks from the outside, the yard chocked with sand and weeds.

It’s a warm house, this house with no windows. The wooden stairs plunge  down to a basement that is painted a dull blue and there is a clutch of skeleton keys hanging from a hook shaped like a lady’s hand in the kitchen above the sink. I think one of the fingers is missing.

The water still runs, rusty and fetid from aged pipes, the electricity still flows up and down rotted copper wires and the radio in the basement works sometimes.

The House with the missing windows, the one with the well used stairs that lead to the basement with the dirt floor where there is one chair sitting in a  dark corner festering with spider webs,  was never a nice house.

It has always smelled of death and decay and the attic roof always leaks  when it rains and rats seem to come from miles around just to decompose in it’s walls.

A lady named Miss Giuliana  Coffin died there.

A few times.

Do It To Someone You Love

You know what would be funny?

Buying someone a Funeral Plan and handing it off with a bunch of flowers

and a fish wrapped in a vest.

Oh My GOD

I am going to be laughing for the rest of the day over this one.

Help Wanted

 

Daily Prompt

Teacher’s Pet

Tell us about a teacher who had a real impact on your life, either for the better or the worse. How is your life different today because of him or her?

 

When I was in school they asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up.

At the time I was about 10 and that person was not a young woman to be trifled with.

I knew I was SUPPOSED to say a Teacher or a Secretary or a Mom- none of which appealed to me because I knew a lot of women who did that work and they weren’t exactly happy when they left for work in the mornings. It seemed like a grim existence.

I knew better then to say what popped into my head, but I did it anyway.

So I told my teacher I wanted to be a Hang Man.

I was great at  knots I said plus, I’d seen it done a million times on TV so I was pretty sure I was ready to enter the work  field of my choice.

 

She told me I was being silly.

That wasn’t a real job, besides women didn’t do that kind of work she said firmly.

The trouble was, I believed her.

Years and years later I was reading a book about death and one of the chapters dealt with executions and in particular there was a part about Ted Bundy.

One of the witnesses who could only see the eyes of the executioner ( Bundy was electrocuted if memory serves ) remarked that the Executioner had long thick eyelashes- they kind a woman would have.

Now this is noteworthy on two points- getting sent to  Hell by a woman after what Bundy did  is just to delicious for words.

I must say, if those words were a cupcake it would be topped with three inches of thick delicious frosting with a deep rich velvet cake buried in there somewhere.

Second point, I read that line a few times, let the book fall on my face in despair ( I was reading in bed, because nothing says fun, fun, fun like reading about death before your eyes shut and you’re plunged into darkness) I thought to myself:

Son of a bitch, I missed my true calling.

Because someone else answered the phone before me.

Damn.

Damn.

Damn.

I Really Hate Facing The Bloody Obvious

Forgive me oh my powerful and patient Muse for I have sinned.

I started goofing off on Facebook again.

And at about that time I stopped writing.

But I won’t pussyfoot around.

I stopped writing just before the holidays because I was tired.

Over the last year the Grim Reaper knocked on so many doors around me- a friend, a few of my relatives and my dog.

That’s right. My dog.

Losing my dog Domino was the last freaking straw.

I quit the human race.

And now I’m sort of back.

I guess when you go on a journey- good or bad you learn a lot of stories, you meet people, you taste new foods, hear new music.

You might not care a rat’s ass  at that particular moment but that’s what happens.

So tonight when my friends and I went into mourning because the Seahawks didn’t win their second Superbowl in a row I slapped myself upside the head and thought:

” Really Anita? After all the loss and sadness you’ve been through you’re going to mourn for this? The Hawks are awesome- they’re going to come back.

So let’s tally it up shall we? Your Dad, your cousin, your friend will not be coming back. Let’s keep the tally going from the previous sucky years: your nephew…gone…your cat…gone…your girlish figure….long gone.

So how’s about looking at it this way- suck it up, chalk this screwed up year as a life lesson and let’s soldier on shall we?

Ok.

Because at the end of the day that’s what you have to do.