No Time To Write

Optokentic and Optomobility

It’s true . . . I really don’t have time to write.

Today, the one hundredth and twenty-fifth day of the year, is a typical example.

Having slept well, I woke chipper and chanting, thank you God. Then, prepared coffee and my favorite breakfast, an English muffin with cherry jelly. I gathered my phone; computer, clipboard and the right pen and pencil, and sat outside to enjoy the morning air and Wordle.

On the first attempt, I had 3 correct letters, none in the right place. One hour later, I had 3 letters in their right spot, but was still missing two correct letters. So, I asked my husband for help. However, we were interrupted when a pint of blueberries fell to the kitchen floor. Sweeping them up was like playing blueberry pool, and yes, I rinsed and put them in the box. None of them had been squashed.

 I can’t remember what time it was but, a downpour occurred, and I scurried outside to retrieve my phone, computer, clipboard and right pen and pencil from being soaked.

I was frazzled and hadn’t brushed and flossed, yet.

Do you own a toothbrush recommended by your dentists with a timer? I live in fear of his eyebrows being raised on my next visit.

Another reason I don’t have time to write is doctor’s appointments.        

For years I believed Vertigo and/or sinus infections were the cause of my incurable balance issues. Turns out, it’s not just vertigo that causes my wobble walk, but Optokentic and Optomobility.

What is that?

To put in layman talk . . .dancing eyes. I my case, it’s my right eye that flutters and sends a mixed message to my brain. Consequently, my legs don’t know which way to go.

The cure? Watching Youtube videos of strolling through a grocery store or Muir Woods, without moving my head.

I am optimistic there will be some relief.

The last reason I don’t have time to write?

I have an editor/publisher for Morningside Drive, the novel I have been working on for ten years!

                                                                                    

                                                                                      . . . just saying

P.S. I hope things are going well at your house.

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De-cluttering

The Days of My Life Series

One night last week I could not sleep. Well, that is not totally true. I slept until 4:30 am and could not get back to sleep; probably because the handy-man was coming to install more shelving in the closets. So, I got out of bed at 5:30am.

Since I was up so early there was time to do the daily Wordle, before emptying the closets. I am hooked on the word game. Now I have something to look forward to in the morning. However, I debate whether to press play before my first cup of coffee, or wait until later in the day. Once it is done, the thrill is gone. . .though the satisfaction lingers. My friend, Pat, said she has gotten out of bed at 12:01am to play. Sounds like an addiction, that might be called wordling.

Please, tell me your thoughts and Wordle techniques.

Let me go back to the shelving, which cost more ($500.) than the labor, but was well worth the expense. Now I have every single cleaning product in one place. I know where my winter coats are and an extra shelf in the primary bedroom for storage. The garage attic, although pathetically small, is empty. I still have stuff to get rid of, like six boxes of photo albums. Nobody is dying anytime soon, but I don’t want my clutter to be someone else’s headache.

                                                                                      . . . just saying

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An April Fools Joke

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

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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Day Three of Vacation

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Fort Collins

Friday morning, cool temperatures in Fort Collins were a welcome relief from the heat and humidity of Florida. We walked their dog, sipped coffee and read the newspaper while our friends were at the hospital.  Things went well.

Because Yellowstone was closed due to heavy rains and flooding, Betsy and I spent several hours cancelling and re-booking, hotel , dinner reservation and excursions a year in the making, and found accommodations in Jackson Hole and the Grand Tetons. The original plan was to drive to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, an eight hour trip. Spend one night. Then Grand Teton Hotel (one hour away) for one night, and three nights inside Yellowstone.

We worked side by side with two computer and two cell phones, hoping Yellowstone would open on Wednesday.

It was exhausting and . . . time to go shopping.

Money Magazine, named Fort Collins the “Best Place to Live” in the western United States among small cities in 2006. Old Town is its main core where the city’s history began. The Fort Collins Museum, which was created as the Pioneer Museum in 1941, retains the first settler’s hut and two other historic structures in its courtyard. The Avery House and a section of the old city center are on the National Register of Historic Places.

It is a beautiful college town with flowers everywhere.

Families sauntered about, their children splashed in street ponds and the dogs were well behaved.

. . . just saying

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Tangled In Your Underwear

dry tree twigs with small berries in autumn
Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com

Help me here, is tangled in your underwear a metaphor, colloquialism or good advice?

Regardless, it happened to me and I’m wondering. . . .Has this happen to you?

Let me start at the beginning. I lost my balance and things were getting scary. Fear of falling resulted in my sitting down to put my pants on. It was vertigo.

A physical therapist shook the crystals out and explained, that although poor balance is assumed to go hand in hand with aging, behavior changes are a huge factor and the root cause of my loss of balance.

She was right. I was holding on to kitchen counters, walked with my arm tucked under someone else’s and sat down to put my pants on.

She recommended an exercise program.

The good news; my balance was restored, and I set a goal to dress standing up and had success except when my toes got tangled in my underwear.

Pointing my toes provided mediocre results as did wearing socks.

It is a daily challenge, so here are a few tips:

  1. Always have a bench or chair behind you.
  2. Practice standing on one foot leaning against a counter or wall, first.
  3. Graduate to standing on one foot with your eyes closed and then the other.
  4. When you’ve mastered the above introduce the underwear; concentrate hard and one leg at a time . . . go for it.
  5. Expect to wobble but refuse to fall-down.
  6. Continue to do balance exercise, daily, for the rest of your life.

. . . just saying

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Lemons VS Lemonade

Photo by Gamze Nur on Pexels.com

I’m ready to scream, yell and tear my hair out. It’s 10:30 am and I’ve been at my computer for forty-five minutes and accomplished nothing. My first task was to send an email to members of my book club about the next book selection, but I cannot open yahoo mail after waiting patiently and then some.

My computer is new and I have Windows 10, but this morning everything is operating at a snail’s pace.

What I was able to do, was reserve David Baldacci’s new book Dream Town at the library. He is a favorite author of my husband’s, unfortunately, the wait is long, I’m #77 on the list.

Do the math. If each reader keeps the book for 2 weeks, that is 154 weeks away. Realistically we might have the book the end of August. I could buy the book for him at Barnes and Noble for $14.99. It’s something to think about.

Back to the book club selection; we chose Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile, because I was reading The Christie Affair by Nina de Gramont and commented that it was a decent read but, did not reveal much about her disappearance for eleven days after her husband, Archie, informed her he was having an affair and wanted a divorce. Intrigued by the author’s life we decided on one of her novels, since none of us had read any of her books.

Well, I just checked my email and can read open messages. I no longer want to pull my hair out.

. . . just saying

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