Author Archives: claudiajustsaying

An April Fools Joke

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Flash Fiction

An April Fools Joke

     Today, crisp cool air mingles with a blazing sun as I leave my minuscule apartment on Lexington Ave. The weather has been dreary. This morning is glorious.

     Around noon, I stop for lunch at a typical outdoor New York café; the tables are round and small; the metal chairs look uncomfortable, but are not when I sit.

     A waiter fills my water glass, and announces he will be my server. The menu choices are unexpectedly appealing; fennel quiche, gazpacho soup, and more.

     I take time ordering.

     The man on my left, glances my way. His thick blond hair is sun streaked and he looks familiar, a little like my friend, Sam.

      Groomed brows frame his eyes. Carefully pressed gray slacks, and a wrinkle-free dress shirt complete his polished look.

        I sit back to wait for my meal and people watch; New Yorker’s enjoying the sun, walking and talking loud. A biker babe dressed in leather, pushes a doggie stroller. The dog wears goggles and rests his paws on the bar celebrity style. I laugh aloud.     

       My order comes, and the man who looks like Sam stares in my direction, again. His eyes searching, and as the tables fill up, the man gives a knowing nod my way, and conceals a smile.

He faces me, but, I can’t tell if he is looking at me, or not.

     Behind me a couple seat themselves, and I refrain from turning around. They create a stir dragging empty chairs across the concrete and arranging shopping bags, and I realize the man who looks like Sam is studying them.

     When the waiter takes my empty plate, I order a Cappuccino and the ‘Chocolate – Chocolate’ cake, and listen to the couple’s banter, intrigued.

     The woman protests, “I didn’t make you come here, you said it was your favorite restaurant.”

     The man responds, “Eve, you’re the one who claimed the food was something else.”

      “You loved the zucchini mushroom quiche, and what about the gazpacho soup? You raved!”

     “No, you never listen; I said the quiche was good if you like quiche. And the soup ‘the best’ Gestapo!” His words are slow and deliberate. He gets up. “I’m going to the men’s room.”  

     His voice sounds like Victor’s, and I look.

     Sam rushes to fill his empty seat, firing off questions, “What’s going on? You said you would be at here 12 o’clock, alone.”

      Coyly, Eve removes her Hollywood style sunglasses, checks her diamond wristwatch, leans forward, and whispers, “Oh, my, it is past noon, isn’t it.” Playing with her neckline she continues. “Victor’s golf was cancelled. When he learned I was coming to the city, he said he was coming.” She shakes her head and says misty eyed. “He’s my husband. I couldn’t persuade him otherwise. We’ll do it next time.”

     Sam laughs, “You think me a fool, Eve; there are other restaurants in town! Why lunch here? There won’t be a next time.”

     “Next time . . . answer your cell, damn it!” She shouts after him.

     The husband returns. A tan complements his brown eyes, perfect Roman nose, and romantic lips. Approaching the table, his aloof expression becomes surprise, as our eyes meet.

He is my Victor, and my heart pounds.

     Sitting across from his wife, he tucks in a cloth napkin. “Who was that? You seem upset. Is everything alright?”

     Eve clears her throat, forces a smile, and explains, “Someone who goes to my gym. It’s nothing. I’m tired, and sorry. Sorry we had words.” She reaches across the table to take her husband’s hand, “Can we forget it?”

     Eve appears confident and why not? I’m the other woman.

     I play with the raspberry sauce on and mush the the ‘Chocolate-Chocolate’ cake.

   I stop at the couple’s table when leaving and smile, “Victor, What a surprise to see you and your wife.”

As I walk away, Eve asks, “Who’s is that? You seem upset. Is everything alright?”

. . . .  just saying

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An Eye Opener

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The Days of My Life Series

Yesterday was an eye opener. Not just because it was the 83rd day of the year and there are only 282 days left, but. . . because I fell.

Thankfully, I wasn’t seriously hurt and able to get up. However, I’m now calculating the days until I fall and can’t get up.

I’ll be 75 this year. In five years or 1,825 days I’ll be 80. This isn’t new math. You get the picture.

The other issue is that every day something else occurs, like. . . someone backs into my car in a store parking lot, or my Facebook account is hacked. . . again. One day my social security 1099 form was accidentally shredded and I drove 30 miles to the closest office and waited in line outside for a very, very long time to get a duplicate. It’s as though I playing Monopoly and keep landing on Chance.

I would rather be writing, than on hold attempting to reorder the toothbrush charger I’ve missed placed. It’s hidden somewhere in my house. I just can’t remember where, and none of the 20 other chargers or adapters I find, fit.

But not to be side tracked, how did I fall?

Well, it was 6:30 am and I was sleeping peacefully, when my Tandem insulin pump alerted me wake up and drink juice. I knew where the kitchen was in the dark. So, I walked with my eyes closed, attempting not to wake myself. Except there was a crash, and I found myself laying across an opened dishwasher. It was an eye opener and I cursed like a banshee.

Why was the dishwasher open with the bottom rack pulled out at the crack of dawn?

Well, I’d rather not talk about it, and another something that pulled me away from a day of writing.

Anyway, I’m thankful; I could get up, didn’t have a fork stuck in my nose and had not been woken by a Russian bomb dropped on my house.

                                                                                      . . . just saying

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Out With the Old in With the New

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The Days of My Life Series

Today is the 72nd day of the year. Can you believe it? My draft of this post was written on January 1st., with a commitment to post at least once a week. However life didn’t go as planned. It’s a mystery as to where and when I lost control. February flew by with little to show for it and is a blur. Perhaps it was the shower curtain rod that kept falling down in the guest bathroom, the bedroom wallpaper curling off the wall, or the bedroom shade that collapsed leaving us exposed. Duck tape failed to solve anything. Maybe because we frequently need a magic wand to get the automatic garage door open, or that I got COVID after being fully vaccinated, and I’m not going to mention other health related stuff that consumed my time and energy.

The original post is below. Welcome to the days of my life.

We all can agree 2022 was one heck of a year. Combine that with the previous pandemic years of hibernating, well. . .I want to break out and tidy-up. So, it is out with the old and in with the new.

First step was to get rid of and rearrange furniture. I listed a couch and wooden file cabinet on Nextdoor, moved the dining room table to the breakfast nook, and ordered a new dining room table.

Now we have a dance floor until its arrival.

The 20 plastic carriers hidden in the closet have been reduced to 10.

But what do you do with that stuff? Framed college diplomas, wedding and communion picture albums, football trophies, baby teeth and dried up leather baby shoes, a box of flower vases, that were never unpacked, etc. It is time to say goodbye.

And then there is the stuff I am not ready to say goodbye to.

Like the card below.

My friend Liz, made Bob’s 60th birthday card, fourteen years ago.

She and I have been friends since we were thirteen.

I can’t throw out a find that represents our lifelong friendship.

This treasure will go back in my closet.

                                                                                      . . . just saying . . .welcome to the days of my life

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Christmas 2022

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Photo by Lacy Darden on Pexels.com

Christmas 2022 Poem

The Day After Christmas

It was the day after Christmas the presents unwrapped. The plants nestled and covered. . . taking a nap.

We stayed in pajamas relieved only three gifts go back,

Then what to my wondering ears did I hear, “didsomeonejustshout?”

Confused, I responded, “what are you talking about?”

Bob repeated, “didsomeonejustshout?”

I hollered back.

To which he exclaimed, “WEDNESDAY…THE…GARBAGE…GOES OUT”

Merry Christmas to all!

Processed with VSCO with e3 preset

 Wishing you a happy and healthy New Year

. . .Claudia just saying.

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Mother Nature and Normal

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 Back To Normal

We were lucky not to be hard hit by hurricane Ian. That is not the case for much of Florida and many west coast areas will never be the same. We were without power for one day due to heavy rains and wind. But any down tree branches were easily hauled to the street by us.

It is with great angst that I post the picture of clean-up in our neighborhood.

The pictures for Sanibel Island and Fort Worth are devastating. The death toll for Florida was high, seventy-seven. A few of those deaths were in our area. One, a man in his seventies, attempted to empty water from his pool (to avoid flooding into his home) slipped down an embankment into a pond and drowned.

A sixty-eight-year-old woman tourist went to the beach to view Ian and while standing on A1A was swept away by a swell; into the ocean, and dragged out to sea. That’s how powerful the surge was.

Newly restored Flager Beach Pier was swept sideways and under water. New Smyrna beach and Port Orange had extreme flooding, loss of power and business in their area are just now starting to open.

My heart breaks for those who did not fare well.

Today the weather is perfect. No humidity, temperatures below normal and sunny. I wonder what Mother Nature is thinking.

(The pictures below were in today’s newspaper and show the damage south of us in Daytona Beach and Port Orange.)

                                                                                      . . . just saying

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No Worries Hurricane Ian

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Photo by lucas andreatta on Pexels.com

Please don’t think I’m being cavalier with the title. Tampa, the West Coast, and Central Florida will be impacted. Thankfully they are preparing and ready to evacuate. We live on the east coast of Florida, between St. Augustine and Daytona Beach, in new construction. Our outside walls are cinder block. The house has few windows. Building codes do not permit windows (tiny panes of glass) on garage doors.

We won’t evacuate, there isn’t any safer place within driving distance.

We will probably loose electricity and not able to cook the food that is defrosting in the freezer and refrigerator. I’ll freeze 16 oz bottles of water then put them in the refrigerator so things don’t rot, if we do. 

We will need flashlights and candles to see after 7pm and the toilets will not flush. I’ll be prepared by filling up the bathtub with water ahead of time. One bucket of water will flush things down.  

We won’t open the windows. The air inside will be cooler than outside despite no air conditioning.

All outdoor and furniture will be brought indoors. Last time our living area resembled a hotel lobby with seating for twenty-four.

I believe we’ll be okay and pray the rest of Florida and the surrounding states will be as well.

. . . just saying

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What’s In Your Future?

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A Tiny House

I’ve heard (can’t remember where or by whom), that the trouble with aging is we think more about the past, worry about the present, and think little of the future. At my age, seventy-four, even in the best of health, the next ten to twenty years will be entirely different than the past twenty. It’s a different time in my life and I can be grumpy and mad, or think about the future.

Recently my horoscope said, “You have to go to where the light is.”

I live in Florida. There is plenty of light and wear sunglasses to take out the garbage.

The advice, by Holiday Mathis, who writes the syndicated daily horoscope column for hundreds of newspapers, is the author of several books, and a multi-platinum songwriter (her songs have been recorded by Miley Cyrus, Emma Roberts and others), made sense.

References to moving into the light, implies embracing spirituality.

Perhaps I should attend church more.

Moving into the light suggest death or afterlife.

I’m not ready to die, but. . . maybe I need to avoid route 95 and look 20, instead of 10 times, before backing out of a parking space.

Although. . . It could mean; avoid negativity and surround myself with bright cheery people, places and things.

If I close my eyes and dream about the future, what do I see? A tiny house with lots of windows and a river view. The above picture doesn’t truly capture the picture in my head. I’m thinking more like this.

. . . just saying

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Doing Nothing

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Searching For a Four-Leaf Clover

“Do you like doing nothing?” The question, posed by fellow blogger Kim is intriguing and 67 people commented.

Kim said, if you’d like to do more of nothing; start small, plan unstructured vacations, and choose soft fascination, aka go for a walk. She quotes three University of Michigan psychologists to support the point that nature heals.

Most comments favored doing nothing, I disagree.

Once I start doing nothing, I’m stuck and can’t return to doing something. However, my nothing was not their nothing and many comments addressed the definition of nothing.

The doing nothing discussion was really about the self-imposed lack of unstructured vacations or leisure time.

I can remember only one unstructured vacation for our family of ten.

What I do remember is being sent outside to play after breakfast with strict orders to be home for lunch. Playing cards under our Weeping Willow tree and walking to the pool by ourselves in the afternoon. If I really had nothing to do I’d search for a four-leaf clover.

 

. . . just saying

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