This is gonna hurt you / more than it’s gonna hurt me / and I wouldn’t have it any other way

Once upon a time

a nice girl sat

in front of her computer

and tried desperately

to think

of something witty, 

charming 

and bold

to write.

Nothing came.

So, the girl wrote

music lyrics

to really great, 

angry, 

dagger-filled songs

all over

the desk

of the person deserving 

a poison

apple

today.

And she smiled.

This one goes out to Mr Knowitall

Write a nice little love story

just like this

in 55 words or less

on any given Friday.

Do it or I might leave you a present on YOUR desk.

Fwd:

A growl erupts from the corner. The beast turns vicious fangs to me, moments before he lunges for my throat... to give me a big, sloppy kiss. Stupid dog.

This Sunday 160 is brought to you by the letter E (for Ezmund) and the number 38, Stanford's score as I write this. Oh, and it's dedicated to Monkey Man, who writes stuff. And is watching the Stanford game while the pizza cools. Hi, MM.

Months and months and months

Life is what happens
while you're busy making
other plans
so I'm told.

Did you know
that peanut butter
on a spoon
cures hiccups?

And the sound of
coyotes at night
outside your hotel room window
can cure a major
case of the blues?

Only if
you married a Monkey
and he knows your secrets.

--------
This Friday 55 is for G-Man
who makes me want to write on Friday
and Monkey Man
who made me laugh on Monday
just like most every day.

I want to thank
Kramers, and Old Mills, and ghost stories
wishing for Sasquatch
coyotes outside my door
peaceful quiet
and men who tip
their hats at me
and wave as they pass.

Happy 19th, MM
and many more -
(with coyotes).

She reads aloud.

“North Star,
Star of the sea

I wish for a ship
Named after me

To sail for a day
Alone and free

With someone nice
For company.”

With her little brother giggling,

she launches the paper boats

across the pond,

fire blooming from their center

until they disappear

around the willow branches.

--------------------------

Growing up, there were many oriental traditional that came to be my own. I always give a new bride a bell to hang in her kitchen (so she can ring it when she's lonely and know that her family hears her, still). I always eat the fortune from my cookie so it will come true. And, I used to always launch wish boats on the Willamette River on the eve of Chinese New Year.

The poem that's quoted here is from The Maggie B by Irene Haas. 

I first read this as a small girl, when reading was my escape from a rough and tumble world. I often long for the simplicity of those times, the long hours spent alone with only my thoughts and Moby Dick or Watership Down for company.

This Flash Fiction, as most of the good ones, leans heavily on my own story. G-Man would love it if you'd play along by writing a story in exactly 55 words. The Noir, the merrier...

Continued

Stop the bus, I want to get off.

Fear is the wind that snuffs the candle in the mind. I steal that from Enchanted Oak, who also quotes a philosopher or two. Her words hit home this morning, as I water the plants, walk the dog, go through the mental list of all the things I am uniquely responsible for in the world. All 6,532 of them.

Two jobs to not make a person happy. One of them must go. Or I must go. The two of us can no longer live peacefully under the same roof.

I've been blaming strange things for my unhappiness, of late. Well, being afraid has caused me to miss one too many good things in my life, it's time to beat a hasty retreat from that silliness. Who cares where the unhappiness comes from - it must go. NOW.

Yep. Staring fear straight in the face, today, and telling it to go take a flying leap.

You with me? (Now, where's I put those wings?)

Timeless moments

Have you ever picked a fight?

I know I have, more often than I'd care to admit. Like last night. I'm the queen of fight picking, it seems.

But when a storm is brewing, have you ever stopped to really think about the why? What's underneath your anger and frustration?

For me, it's almost always fear.

I'm angry because I'm afraid, and I don't like to be afraid.

Not "I'm being hunted by a lion and must run or die" afraid, just unsure, uncomfortable, unhappy.

What happens if I accept and embrace fear? Well, we'll find out. Because, at the end of the day, avoiding fear, conflict and conversations gets me exactly nowhere. The same goes for bringing things up when I'm angry. I've got to quit that.

What kind of world would I live in if I could have an open and honest (and difficult) conversation without fear of retribution, without distress - and without raised voices?

Stay tuned...

And counting...

Softly whispered,

“You’re the most handsome man here.”

And he smiles.

Falling asleep, he doesn’t’ even think

about the fact

that his attitude

is only that of someone

admired, adored and slightly stalked.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school,”

repeated over. AND over.

She feels ill.

All hail high school reunions…

------------------------------------------------

This Friday 55 is semi-factual. Who loves high school reunions?

Not I - and especially not when it turns out to be so - I don't know - ODD.

My ten year was normal - we'd seen each other too recently.

(The first person to pick out a fellow blogger in this photo wins a very cool prize, by the way).

Why does everyone fall back into their old persona?

The jocks hang together, only the popular ones at that table...

The saving grace was being adored - still - by my husband's best buddies from Jr High,
that we see frequently. Thank the goddess...

Otherwise, there would have been blood.

G-Man, you'd bail me out... RIGHT?

(Visit him, leave a trail of breadcrumbs.... and he'll visit you back. Promise.)

For all dads - a Father's Day 160

Fingers grip the wheel.

“Vroom vroom!” fills the air.

She sighs, announcing softly:

“you can’t sit in the driveway forever

no matter how much gas mileage you save.”

------------------------------------------

This Sunday160 (a story told in 160 characters, including spaces) is a tribute to my husband,
who just purchased a new car - a hybrid - and spends WAY too much time worrying about
the low 37.5 miles per gallon he's getting in town. It's rather adorable.

Happy Father's Day to all you Dads out there - especially Monkey Man 

(if he's not too busy making car sounds from the front seat...)

Haunting 55

Too many hours passed

waiting for him to come home

from the treacherous life at sea.

She waited and watched,

pacing effortlessly on the balcony

for hours at a time.

Every ship might hold her love

and yet she feared he’d never return.

Inside the room, a voice.

“Honey – who’s that out on the patio?”

----------------------------------------------------

Join the fun, if you dare. Write a quick dose of fiction in 55 words, no more - no less. 

Let the G-Man know and he'll send lots of living, breathing visitors. 

Snow angels - 160

There’s

a perfect day

I keep in my jacket pocket

Snow and sun

You and me

With that bald eagle.

For the change it wrought

everything

thank you.

Snow angels cure anything.

-----------------------------------------
This Sunday 160 (a story in 160 characters, including spaces) is brought to you by a May afternoon at Oregon's Frog Lake. If you'd like to play, let Monkey Man know (he'll visit you if he's not too busy out making snow angels in the sod).

55 words of warning

Splayed on the floor, he’s not getting up anytime soon.

Wiping his brow, the officer gently asks,

“You seem really upset, Ma’am. 

Can you tell me – what happened here?”

She takes a deep breath, sighs loudly,

 “He used a metal spatula on my new Calphalon pan,”

and starts slowly wiping the blood off her hands…

----------------------------------------

Want to play? Write a fictional story in 55 words exactly. Then, tell G-man.
He'll stalk you if you're good...

Baby did a bad, bad thing

Once upon a time, a very cool customer went to see her favorite singer. She was nonplussed, she was aloof, she was her usual, above-it-all self - until he began to sing her FAVORITE song as he walked merely inches from her, through the audience.



And what does our heroine do? She reaches out to stroke his glittering light blue jacket, thinking "this must have been what it was like to see Elvis..."

Oh, Chris...

(\-/)(:OO:)\/o\||\o\(:)\o\\o\-_(oO(O

 (\-/)        

(:O O:)         

 \   /o\          

  | |\o \            

  (:) \ o\                 

       \o \-_                

       (o O              

       ( O

 ---------------------

This Sunday 160 brought to you by the letter "g" 
(for giraffe) and the number "zero". Although, I 
have to admit, I was tempted to tell this joke about 
a giraffe and a bartender...

If you'd like to play along, 

join my favorite blogger Monkey Man. 

     ."`".              

 .-./ _=_ \.-.             

{  (,(oYo),) }}             

{{ |   "   |} }             

{ { \(---)/  }}             

{{  }'-=-'{ } }             

{ { }._:_.{  }}             

{{  } -:- { } }    

{_{ }`===`{  _}             

(((\)     (/))) 

It's often hard to be so succinct... 
and the rules are you can only use 160 characters, 
including spaces.

----addendum----

I'm glad everyone's enjoying the art - but I feel bad, 

the giraffe is my daughter's animal, the monkey works 

for the man of the house - but I left out my son, 

who is a Leo and a lion through and through.

            ,  ,, ,
      , ,; ; ;;  ; ;  ;
   , ; ';  ;  ;; .-''\ ; ;
, ;  ;`  ; ,; . / /8b \ ; ;
`; ; .;'         ;,\8 |  ;  ;
 ` ;/   / `_      ; ;;    ;  ; ;
    |/.'  /9)    ;  ; `    ;  ; ;
   ,/'          ; ; ;  ;   ; ; ; ;
  /_            ;    ;  `    ;  ;
 `?8P"  .      ;  ; ; ; ;     ;  ;;
 | ;  .:: `     ;; ; ;   `  ;  ;
 `' `--._      ;;  ;;  ; ;   ;   ;
  `-..__..--''   ; ;    ;;   ; ;   ;
              ;    ; ; ;   ;     ;   

Timely 55

I love my daughter.
Love her, love her, love her.
Smart, funny, talented, creative, artistic, sweet, kind.
She would do anything for anyone, except be on time.
What do those words mean, on time?
I’ve lost track after 18 years of late.

And not killing her, I might add, deserving a medal - a shiny one.

-----------------------
Yes, another non-fictional 55, but this one is truly timely. After all, if my ready-to-graduate daughter doesn't learn the benefits of understanding time, graduation is just another step toward living in my attic. Forever. And we SO don't want that to happen. She'll be the "crazy rat lady" and that suits her just fine...

Join G-Man and play along, write a fictional story in 55 words, no more, no less. Remember, fiction is in the eye of the beholder... and she's probably just busy drawing on her arm, anyway, right?

Gratitude is contagious

There's a notebook that sits at the end of my bed. Not really a journal, but it's a book for thoughts and feelings of gratitude. Bad days are not included in it, nor are negative feelings (except that once, and that was forgiven). The two of us share the good things and the kindness we've received, the silly moments we've enjoyed as we document the memories of things for which we are grateful.

You'll find entries like:
-I am infinitely grateful for the coffee you make in the morning
-Gratitude overflows for your kind text messages
-I am grateful for that hug you gave me
-My day was awesome because my son bought me breakfast and I'm so grateful for his kindness
-Sara made me laugh when I was sad and it deserves every ounce of my gratitude

Why do we write about this? Because I really think we forget about the good things in our lives as we let ourselves be overwhelmed by the bad, the sad and the chaotic. I started this year off by giving myself a task - be grateful. Every day. Show your gratitude. Keith joined in immediately and has enjoyed it as much as I do.

Guess what else happened? I'm happier than I've ever been. It took patience and practice and thoughtfulness to pick out the good things in my often topsy-turvy world. But in the past 4 months, I've become a bit of an expert in gratitude, at least in my own. All thoughts entered here must be positive - therefore, the percentage of positive in my life has increased exponentially. It's so much easier to ignore the bad stuff when the good stuff stares you in the face.

Our book is almost full. I like to flip through it and look at the days past, see what made me feel grateful - and see the gratitude that it shows me for who we are, what we have, where we're going. Oh, and it's nice to feel appreciated - there's rarely a day when I'm not on his list.

When was the last time you showed gratitude? Does your partner know how good it feels when you get something you need from them? You don't have to write a book, but you do owe it to yourself to show gratitude. The change it will make is rather amazing.

Today, I'm grateful for a ride to work so I could gather my thoughts, a coffee left by my sink, the sharing of a difficult situation that makes me feel important and included, a compliment that made me feel special.

What are you grateful for today?

The armory - 160

Dreams swirl.

Sleep escapes me

as another comment

meant to sting

digs deeply

into my very soul.

It was meant to drive a wedge

so wedge it is.

Mine has barbs on the end.

----------------
The one-and-only Monkey Man plays this game every Sunday.
Write a story in 160 characters, including spaces. No more, no less.
Play along, if you dare - but be warned... the depth of emotions can be felt
even in such small places.

Stormy 55

Standing taller than those around her,

She sways in the breeze

Waiting for the storm to pass.

“Heavy winds and rain are forecast,”

the weatherman says.

Quietly following the path she has chosen,

She bends, allowing wind to blow through her red hair

and pass her by.

If only people were this easy to ignore.

------------------------

Happy Friday to all - play along with G-Man and try your hand at fiction in exactly 55 words. 

Just remember - fiction is often VERY close to the truth...

Rapture in 160

The small girl went to church to celebrate and repent.
She smiled sweetly, looking up at her Sunday school teacher
and remarking, “Oh, you’re not worthy, either.”

--------------
Yep, we're all still here. But you should go off and think about this - what if the "Rapture" happened and only one old, small man in Peru was worthy? I'm still waiting for the hoards of vermin, stinging mosquito the size of horses and for all the rest of those really cool prophesies to come true...

Play along with my favorite Monkey Man and his Sunday 160 Here. If you ARE still here...

downtown in 55

Portland's living room glows with promise and sunshine this morning -if you ignore shadows in the corners. Struck by the devotion of the ones that watch over their sick, sad masters, the lucky one with full belly and warm bed knows it. Five dogs eat well today to spend another night watching over their precious charges.

---although non-fiction, my hope is to some day see stories such as this as just that - stories. The homeless population, and their fiercely devoted canine protectors, deserve to find a place in our world that's safe.

160 Beginnings

Once upon a time

You’d write me notes

On your cell phone.

Limited to 160 characters

(thanks Verizon)

You found ways

To take creativity

To the next level.

Again.

Thanks.

-----------------------------------

I also have to thank my darling husband and great kids for a day of spoiling, digging in the dirt and pampering - including bacon. I even got to read to them, a rare thing with teenagers.

Happy Mother's Day, all you wonderful women! Even if you've never given birth, you mother and love those around you and should be thanked just the same. You know who you are.

----------------------------------

Monkey Man dreamed of stories in 160 characters, including spaces. If you dare, you can try it yourself. Check him out and let him know. It's harder than you think!