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Posts Tagged ‘flowers’

Well, here it is 6 July 2017 and from the looks of things, my life isn’t much different from the last time I posted. Book revisions are ongoing, I’m still looking for stories in the Literary Orphans queue to accept, and the kitchen is still a mess. In reality, progress was made and good times were shared.

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This is the state of the shelving. The trays are made, the glides in place, and I’ve given the cat several rides in and out. She likes it, I swear! We ended up on a road trip to PA in order to plane the maple for the fronts and got to spend time with Husband’s Twin and Amazing Rachael who’d cleaned and painted before we got there. Did I take pictures there? No. Once we left, we were off to the Tuttle’s for a tent raising good time and I got to see Alana for the first time. Do I have pictures of that? No. What I do have pictures of are these gorgeous flowers and limited data left, so please excuse this truncated post and remember, I think you’re awesome for stopping by for the read. Cheers!

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*These are my creekside reflections. Yours ought to vary.

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Last week, Thursday was the only day I didn’t have to be somewhere to do something and I really needed the day to decompress. Hence, this blog post is late. I send this picture of a pink hollyhock as a peace offering.

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Thanks to the encouragement from Gina Miani and Mary Akers, I’ve been putting in at least 1000 words a day into “Dreaming Lettie.” Not today though. Today, I wrote a flash that amused me. I’ll be sharing the rough draft with some of you shortly. (Sorry!) After I stack some wood, I’ll probably go back to DL. Yesterday, I wrote over 1500 words, but after an implied sex scene, I didn’t know what to do. I may need to go back to the beginning and write the scenes I skipped to find out the timeline.

The summer projects are going along as well as can be expected. The garden is growing; the trees, flowers and bushes in the back haven’t died; and the walkway redo is farther along than it was last week. We have company coming next week and I’ve been a willing guinea pig for Nancy who just got a Bemer. If you get a chance, try it. After I got a compliment on how radiant I looked from a friend at Lowe’s, I got carded at Wal-Mart. (I didn’t even know they carded at Wal-Mart!)

With the writing, the yard work, and the wood, I haven’t been on Facebook, watching television or listening to much radio. It’s just as well. With this election, everyone seems to be losing their minds. I caught one perfect comment though. Roxane Gay said the equivalent of “I don’t need my president to be my friend; I just need them to lead.” If only she was running – Or Matt Boyle. Sigh.

Have a great week! Thank you so much for stopping by! You’re awesome and I appreciate you! Here’s two more flower pictures!

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*These are my creek side reflections; your experiences ought to vary, you know. Just sayin’.

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The morning started with a strange noise. It didn’t go away and not being able to deduce where it was coming from, I got out of bed. I put coffee in the microwave and went out to get the paper only to find the strange noise coming from Husband’s riding lawnmower. I checked, the key was in the off position. I even pulled the key out. I called Husband. He told me it was trying to start itself and to press a button. It stopped making noise. By the time I returned with the paper, it had started again. I’ve been out there 4 times now, BUT I’ve since had my coffee so it’s a bit less disturbing to have possessed machinery in the yard.

 

That was the latest thing to go kerflunky. Last night, I turned on the grill and when it was hot, I started the chicken and went inside. I heard a “pop” and thought Husband was on the lawnmower and it backfired. No, he came in through the kitchen door to report the regulator on the grill had blown up. Apparently there were flames and everything. I’m glad I missed that and it didn’t happen when I was out there. The chicken went into the oven so dinner was able to be served eventually.

 

The worst thing–of course–is the Chevrolet Colorado broke down and had to go into the shop AGAIN!!!! This time because the fuel pump died. Yet another grand into that beast and it’s STILL not paid off. Of course it had been in for an oil change at the dealership just before the latest thing went wrong. On Twitter, Chevrolet was sad to hear about my “concerns.” They want me to send them the VIN. For what? A friggin’ coupon for an oil change? I am SO irritated.

 

Otherwise, this is where I’ve been and where I’ll be. The magic triangle of the screened in tent, the garden shed, and the garden. The fence – at least one side – is slated to go up this year. The gate went in this weekend.

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Look, a frog!

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The new bulbs bloomed!

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And in writing related news, I’ve been working on something and it’s over 5,000 words long so far. I don’t know what to call it yet, so I’m letting it progress at its own pace. I have a review to finish writing, a 300 word profile to write because Literary Orphans is celebrating its 25th Issue with a special staff page, and lord knows what else. Anyway, I should figure that out and get to it as soon as I crank up the computer and post this.

 

Thanks for stopping by!

 

(These are my Creekside Reflections. Your experiences may vary.)

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I occasionally fear I can make things happen by writing about them. At one of the novel critique meetings, Mary shared a similar thought. She’d written a story about someone needing to move and they unpacked the boxes before the people helping with the move could return to take away the next batch of boxes. It was eerie for her when a relative of hers did that in real life.

Recently, I thought it would be okay to write about a main character losing her mother since mine was already gone. I now think I’ll only write about attractive, wealthy, and attentive men who love me and want to console me about my grandmother and swear that my writing had nothing to do with it.

I’m not saying my grandmother was like a mother to me; she was more like a great friend who believed in me, wanted me to be my best, and always had my back. When I was little, she had me walk with dictionaries balanced on my head so I’d have poise and good posture. I brushed my teeth because she said they were important and you didn’t want to lose them. The biggest thing I learned was that life goes on and she taught that by example.

She didn’t know how to drive. When my grandfather died, she took driver ed and she got her license when she was 54–don’t hold me to that, she might have been a bit younger–but not by much. That amazes me, her being that old and deciding that was what needed to be done, then doing it. After that, she went out and got jobs, first at a cookie factory, then at Champion. She worked there for years and retired not because it was her choice, but because it was a company policy.

If she was ever in pain, I don’t think I ever saw it–except for the very end, and I wonder if that in part was just letting out all the hurt that must have been inside. I was not a perfect grandchild. She never said anything, but I know I disappointed her, and I am sorry about that. Constant friends, her brother, her parents, her youngest daughter, my dog that she adored all passed away while she remained–strong, standing, putting another load of laundry on the line, making another grocery list, calling Wes to fix the water pipe that burst and was spraying on the electric panel. I remember seeing her the day after that happened. Something that would have had me cowering in fear of floods and fire for weeks, she shrugged off and didn’t think was worth mentioning. The crisis was over; she’d moved on.

I don’t think of her as gone, someone that resilient has the power to remain in those she touched. I may not be able to call her and tell her I just got published in a magazine or show her that some check was for some words that I wrote. I may not be able to hear her when an episode of I Love Lucy comes on and some silliness makes her laugh. I may not knock on the backroom door and open it to the smell of her rolls, or cookies or roast beef ever again. There won’t be any more hugs or kisses from her, but I’m all right with that. I’m blessed to have had as many as I did when she was alive.

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I brought her flowers when I visited because even though she said I didn’t have to do that, I’d get a note or phone call saying that they were so pretty and a thank you. So, let me say thank you for reading this, whenever you happen across it, whether you knew my grandmother or not. I hope you have an amazing person like her in your life, and if you don’t maybe that’s because you’re the amazing one and you just aren’t aware of how other people perceive you. The world is a strange and wonderful place; spring is here; fantastic, good things happen every day and now that I’ve written that, maybe it will be true. I’ll let you know how I make out with my new rich, handsome boyfriends.

(These are just my creekside reflections. Your experiences may vary.)

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