Day 14! Story-a-Day Continues


On my other blog, I tried to write about my mom, but I didn’t like anything I wrote. So, I wrote this instead for what it’s worth. Thanks for reading!

For Time Travelers, Witches, and Saints: A Compendium of Lesser Known Time Travelers and Other Horrors.

The Island of Saintly Mothers remained uninhabited, drifting about in Heaven, quiet and often unseen. One of the gods, however, wandered across it quite by accident on another aimless evening. The god had tired of spinning storms and shaking mountains.

“What is this?” the god asked.

The god’s attending angel peered around the god’s massive form. “Oh that,” the angel replied. “Don’t you remember? It’s a piece of the beginning of the world, the Island of Saintly Mothers.”

The god thought. “I’d forgotten. There was a lot of work those early days.”

The angel nodded. “Yes, and you’ve forgotten about this and the Mountain of—”

“I don’t need a list,” the god snapped and stared hard at the lush island of golden light pushing aside clouds as it moved along currents of air. “Where are the saintly mothers? This is a damn fine island.”

“Well…” the angel began.

The god gave the island a shove and the island rushed forward, causing trees to bend and clouds to part before it like waves until it slowed down to its original speed. “Well?” the god asked.

Looking this way and that, the angel whispered, “The mothers preferred your sister’s place.”

The god turned so quickly around the clouds around them rolled and darkened. “My sister made an island and didn’t tell me?”

The angel’s halo flashed a bit. “Now, you can hardly keep up with your own creations and your sister does what she pleases.”

“And what makes her island so much better than mine?”

The breeze through Heaven changed direction, and the angel shrugged. “It’s for all women,” the angel said. “And they can be themselves.”

What? Me worry?

This year–though not for a few months yet–I will be 44.

My mother died when she was 45.

my mother at 42


I’ll be 45 in the next calendar year.

Kind of far away if you’re looking forward to something.

So far I’ve had most all of my mother’s health problems.

Of course, I’m not her.

But obviously I’m thinking about it.

Any big numbers out there for you?

Versatility Is Good Either Way

Nancy Lauzon over at The Chick Dick Mysteries thought of me the other day and gave me this Versatile Blogger Award.

Most of the time I think I’m alone here and any attention comes as a nice surprise. And I’m trying to be versatile. At least in my thinking.

So, the award asks for a link back to the giver. Done.

Share 7 things about yourself. Hmmm. What could possibly be interesting at this point? Well, I won’t try for interesting and see what happens.

1. I want and hate attention, and when I get awards I tend to take them home and hide them in the back of the closet. I got a trophy for a poem once. Eventually threw it away. Now my son wins trophies and medals and I find places to display them.

2. I caused a fender bender a few days before Christmas and I’m in something of a snit about it. In 27 years of driving and I’ve never hit another car. But that doesn’t matter when the officer gives the ticket for $167 and the only damage to the other car was a bit of paint off the fender under the license plate and the driver of the other car wouldn’t acknowledge me until the police arrived. My fault though. So. I can’t say anything in my defense.

The lady was actually quite nice when she finally did speak to me. “Now don’t you let this ruin your holiday!”

3. One of my least favorite ordinary questions is: what do you want to eat?

4. My mother’s death from an aortic aneurysm was terrible. But I’ve always been secretly glad it happened at work. If it hadn’t happened at work it might have happened when she was alone in her apartment. It would’ve been days before anyone found her. Or it might have happened while she was driving on the Interstate. I’m sorry for her coworkers, but…

5. For a few years I believed that I could make this writing career thing work with enough determination. That belief has changed.

6. I’m a wee bit irritated that my boss waited until after I left the meeting to announce his plans to resign, and then no one from work contacted me to let me know. I got the news through a facebook status update. Wouldn’t that annoy you?

7. If they ever invent a pill that makes sleep unnecessary, I’m going to take it.

The next step is to link to 15 blogs you enjoy reading.

This is where things get tricky because part of me thinks a shout out to some blogging friends is a good thing. You wouldn’t mind if I said I liked your blog, right? But another part of me thinks that you don’t want to share things and find 15 other blogs to link to and it seems like a lot of work. But then I think it isn’t that much work, and you must like 15 other blogs you’d like to give attention to, right? But maybe this feels like social pressure and it strikes you as chain-lettery and popularity seeking…

oh, whatever…I’m going to link to blogs I like and if that happens to be you–carry on as you wish. I like you and just want to say so. I like Nancy too so I want to play along. I do suspect a couple of folks of reacting with a rather aurgh-I-don’t-want-to-get-sucked-into-this sort of reply. Gnash your teeth and pretend you saw nothing here.

If I don’t link to you it is probably because I’m flawed and miss great things all the time.

1. Running After My Hat. His Friday posts are the best if you like poetry, quotes, and other gems.

2. Shelly Lowenkopf. read his blog because you probably can’t get to his class.

3. 7 Impossible Things before Breakfast. I love this blog but avoid it often because it is impossible to read just one post and then I miss breakfast.

4. Sherri Blossoms. Because she’s a writer that understands me.

5. The Querulous Squirrel. Querulous and sharp. We need more of that.

6. Warrior Girl. Writer and artist. I’ve got one of her pictures on my wall. Now if only I could have a book by her on my shelf…

7. Write out in the Open. I just discovered a friend has this blog and she’s been writing about her mother’s death. I hope she keeps writing.

8. And the Walls Came Tumbling Down. Aother soul I’ve met in cyberspace whose point of view and insights I like.

9. The Gray Pen. A young man who writes. I noticed he hasn’t been blogging lately and I think he has a lot of things getting in the way. Maybe a nudge from new readers would get him back to writing again.

10. Ami McKay. My college roommate who is a published author! Buy her books, people!

Oh…5 more…

I’m going to think about them and post them later. Who knows what will pop into my head before I fall asleep.

My Novel Is Not My Baby

I can neglect my novel for weeks at a time and not go to jail. I can edit what my novel says. And I can be reasonably confident that other books on the shelf are not going to push my novel off the shelf to its death.

No matter how complicated a novel is, it can’t match the complications of raising a baby all the way to adulthood.

Maybe, however, parenting is easy for you.

That’s nice.

So, this evening my son decided to spend the last of his birthday gift certificate at a local toy store. Fine with me. He’s 8, by the way. And after a couple years of looking at things in the dollhouse section, he decided to spend his money on a table and chairs and some dishes for a dollhouse he hopes to get in the future. He is fascinated by all those tiny bits of furniture.

He asked me what I thought of these things, and I told him I thought they were cool. Which I do. I liked them when I was his age as well.

Now I support my son in whatever his passions are (You want to have 60 snails race up our front door? Well, okay… You want to spend all day Saturday testing origami boats in buckets of water? Sure…) and if he wants a dollhouse and we can afford it and he’s willing to put his allowance towards it and it won’t get in the way of the dogs, then that’s fine by me.

But I don’t live in Perfectlandia, and I know that it is entirely possible that one of his friends might come over and say something…less than cool. Will he stand up for himself or shove these things out of sight, feelings hurt and money wasted?

Everything I know about him and I can’t answer that question. I want him to like what he wants to like and not be hurt–even though plenty of times in life it feels impossible to do either. But for now he and I share a work space, and we can put these things on a shelf and say they are mine if we need to.

Which may well be teaching him to lie and to hide himself.

My mother used to say–in certain situations–“Tell them your mother did it” or “You can tell them it is your mother’s idea” or “Put the blame on me if that will help.” She meant it sincerely, though I only took her up on that once… “My mother won’t let me.”

“Oh, moms! That’s too bad,” came the reply. But I was off the hook.

It is hard in this day and age when we say we want our children to be themselves and to be happy, but we also know how hard a path that can be.

Well, I think it is hard. I could be wrong.

Do you find it easy?

Many Years Ago in a Life Far Away

I remember when my mother died, I said to a friend, “In 20 years she’s still going to be gone. I can’t imagine this feeling for 20 years.”

my mom

Well, as of today it’s been 22 years. Thankfully, I no longer feel the way I felt then.

Sometimes though it is sad to get used to someone being gone. Don’t you think?