Posted in Blog challenge, Blogging, Daily Prompt, Humor, nonfiction, postaday, Uncategorized, writing

Daily Prompt: Cupid’s Arrow

It’s Valentine’s Day, so write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!

This is today’s Daily Prompt, so I will apologize right here and now for another bad poem. I know, I know, I promised I would never write another one after the last attempt. But hey, I can’t help but accept a challenge, it’s just who I am. 😉

Oh the man was a man after my heart

from the start

His big brown eyes looked into mine

his hair soft and fine

His kisses are sweet

even if they slightly smell of meat

His playful nature makes me smile

he could run for miles

He loves me no matter what

even if I act like a nut

When his body hogs our bed

I just snuggle closer and pat his head

Even when his body is dirty and smelly

I love him the same the small little silly

So on this Valentine’s Day I will admit

That Sam the Man is a perfect fit

Sam the Man
Sam the Man
Posted in Blog challenge, Blogging, Humor, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, stories, Stories of my life, Uncategorized, writing

Weekly Writing Challenge: Characters

This week’s writing challengeTell us about a character in your life.

I have met some truly unique characters in my life. Some were good, some not so much. But if I had to come up with one character that embodies what a quirky person is, then I will have to go with my Aunt. I haven’t seen her in years, but we have always corresponded through letters. She is my Aunt Nene. My dad’s younger sister. If you ever met her you would not forget her.

She has always been my favorite relative. My mom and her do NOT get along. In fact when I was younger and my mom would get angry with me she would often say I was just like my Aunt Nene. To me that was a compliment! To my mother that was a severe flaw.

My Aunt and I always had a special bond. I would often stay over at her house on weekends. She was great fun. We would lay in her bed at night and talk most of the night away. I could talk to her about anything and everything! I was probably about 14 or 15 when my mom put a stop to my visits. She said my Aunt was a bad influence on me and I was no longer permitted to stay over night. I don’t think I will ever forgive my mom for that. Later I learned she and my Aunt had ‘words’ over me coming for visits. My Aunt lost. As for my dad, he did what my mom wanted. Life was just easier that way.

One of the last times I went somewhere with my Aunt was an interesting experience. I thought it was hilarious, my mom didn’t think so. Maybe because I was only 14 and we went to a bar. My aunt told me that she was going to instruct me on how to pick up men. Oh yeah, my Aunt also swore worse than anyone I ever met. Her favorite word was the F-bomb. Yup, she loved that word and used it as much as humanly possible.

cuss

But back to the bar. Now my aunt and I were not alone that night, my mom, older sister and younger brother was there also. One of the rare times my aunt and my mom were getting along. My dad was working and my aunt and my mom decided they wanted to go out for a few drinks. In Milwaukee where I grew up most bars were considered ‘family bars’. They were neighborhood bars that whole families went to. It was not unusual to find kids in bars. It was not unusual for us kids to be in bars. We were practically raised in them!

Anyway, my aunt was noticeable  Not only because of her vocabulary but because she had flaming red hair and pale skin with blue eyes. She was short, barely 5 ft. Well endowed, and loud. I mean her voice was the biggest thing on her! For a small woman in stature she was very loud vocally.  Add that with her colorful vocabulary and believe me she stood out.  She was also opinionated and smart. All mixed together it was a lethal combination. At the time she had been divorced for the fifth or sixth time. I forget which. I know it was her last time. She never remarried.

So let me set the scene here. Two adult women, small women, neither one over 5 ft tall. One a flaming red-head, one a black-haired woman. Three kids in tow, two short girls and one young boy. Everyone in that bar stared at us as we came in. They probably thought a bunch of munchkins were invading. I remember the bar was full, it was a Friday night. Most of those sitting at the bar were men. There were a few women scattered around but the men far outnumbered them.

munchkins

My mom and aunt got themselves a drink and us kids got a soda (or pop). We trooped over to the back of the bar and stood in a group. That was when Aunt Nene leaned toward me and whispered that she was going to teach me how to pick up men. I laughed. Mom told her I was only 14 and didn’t need to learn that. My aunt laughed her loud laugh and said a girl is never to young to learn. That’s when things got interesting.

As much as I can remember this is how it went. **bad language will follow, I apologize if it offends you**

Pay fucking attention kid and you will fucking learn something.

First, don’t fucking be afraid to fucking flirt. Men fucking love it when a woman fucking flirts.

Fucking look them in the fucking eyes. Don’t be fucking coy. Let them fucking know you are fucking interested.

I did tell you my Aunt loves the F word right? I was not kidding! Now by then my face is beet red as I was still pretty shy back then. My mom is telling my Aunt to be quiet, my sister went over where my little brother was at the jukebox to get away. My aunt’s voice is carrying to everyone in the bar and several men are watching with smirks on their faces. Interested smirks. Yeah, my face was red but I thought it was so funny I couldn’t wait to see what came out of my Aunt’s mouth next. I was not disappointed.

If your fucking standing, spread your fucking legs apart like so. (She spreads her feet and legs apart, thank goodness she was wearing pants)

Now fucking thrust your hips out. This fucking stance makes you fucking sexy to men for some fucking reason. (Um, like yeah Aunt Nene, it’s like you are advertising)

embrassed

If you fucking got tits, lift your chest. Be fucking proud of what you got. You all ready got fucking good tits for a kid, you’ll do okay.

My mom is whispering her to stop, I’m trying hard to decide whether to laugh or sink into the floor. I decide neither as I am fascinated with what is happening.

Now with one hand flip your fucking hair over your shoulder, unless you got short hair like your mother, then fucking forget about it. (She proceeds to flip her long red hair over one shoulder)

Put your fucking hand on your hip and fucking smile! (Which she proceeds to do at a man at the bar)

She finishes her mixed drink and struts over to the bar. About half way there she turns to me and says,

When you fucking walk swing your fucking hips. Show you’re a fucking attractive woman.

I watch her as she squeezes between the man who she was eyeing and another man to order her drink. They exchange a few words, unfortunately I didn’t hear what they said. She picks up 2 mixed drinks and the man at the bar pays for them. Think she partly succeeded in her quest of the night. haha! She saunters back over to us and hands me one of the mixed drinks. My mother starts to protest and my Aunt says,

One fucking mixed drink isn’t going to fucking hurt her. (I take the drink and feel so grown up!)

See what fucking happens when you fucking flirt? You buy your first fucking damn drink and the rest of the fucking night you can fucking drink for free.

Next time I go fucking out I’ll fucking take you with and fucking teach you some fucking more!

Shortly after that night is when my mother stated I was no longer spending time with my Aunt Nene. I suppose looking back she might have been right, but I don’t fucking think so.

 

 

Posted in Blog challenge, Blogging, Daily Prompt, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, stories, Stories of my life, Uncategorized, writing

Daily Prompt: Whoa!

What’s the most surreal experience you’ve ever had?

I thought today’s daily prompt was an interesting one. I really had to think about this for a bit. What is my most surreal experience? I’ve actually had a few. Some I’ve written about. This post here is probably at the top of my list, but since I’ve all ready told that story.  I will try to think of something else that I haven’t told before.

You know, thinking of some of the things that have happened in my life is illuminating. I’ve had a lot of weird stuff happen. Can a person be a magnet to the unusual? If so I believe I am. Yes, I just wrote that with a straight and serious face. How else can I explain some of the stuff that happens to me? Like seeing ghosts? Or hearing them? Or almost getting killed not once, but twice! Maybe three times. I’m not a cat, I’m running out of lives here.

I don’t consider myself old, but damn, some days I feel like I’ve lived two lifetimes packed into one. Most of it not of my choosing. It would be different if I did exciting things like hang gliding, trekking up mountains in different lands, flying a plane. Nope, my experiences are more personal, more intense in a way as they are focused just on me. The inside of me, my heart, my soul. All those other things I mentioned would be great, awesome experiences. What I usually get is more private, or just plain strange

psyfair

I actually like strange, unusual things. My ex used to call me “Witchy woman”, because of some of the things that would happen around me, not because of my attitude. He was not the first person to call me something similar to that. Even as a child I was treated more as an adult. Grown ups would come to me for advice! I was only like 10 or 12 years old and some of the stuff I was asked about should have shocked me, or at least surprised me, but they didn’t. Now if that is not unusual I don’t know what is.

After my divorce I met a man who was the love of my life. He was smart, cute, funny and believed in me fully. He was a man who was grounded in common sense. Yet even he said that I was different. He called me “an old soul”. I asked him what he meant by that. He looked me in the eye and said, “You have been here before, many times.”

This man was the poster boy of common sense. Yet, here he was telling me I was a ‘old soul’ and meaning every word. I loved that man with all my heart. Sadly he died much too young from complications of diabetes. I will always miss him.

That brings me to my story, my Whoa! moment. My surreal experience.

My love’s curiosity about things sent us on an experience I doubt I will ever forget. We lived in Ft. Worth, Texas at the time. They were hosting a very big Psychic Fair. Neither one of us had ever been to one and both of us were curious. So we went. I have to admit I have never been to another one.

First thing we noticed was how busy it was! We had never thought that these kind of events drew that many people. We walked inside and was surprised  with the diversity of the people. There were old, young, middle-aged, the place was packed!

There were booths set up selling everything from books to healing crystals. It was fascinating. Every one was super friendly. They never tried to push their wares or their beliefs on you. They smiled and talked with you and answered any questions.

Off to one side we noticed small tables set up for tarot card readings and crystal ball readings. There were people who had healing stones, you would lay down on cots and they would place healing stones on various parts of your body. I overheard people saying how good they felt afterward. I was fascinated with it all!

We were there for about an hour or so when I spotted a booth that seemed to be off to the side of any others. Even though the building that we were in was very brightly lit, this booth was in a corner that seemed dimmer then the rest. More secluded.

psychic

Sitting at a small table covered in deep purple cloth was a striking black woman. She was old, not too sure how old, but she was old. She had bright white hair that was cut close to her head. She probably stood close to six feet if I were to make a guess. Her face was ageless though. Beautiful I would even say. Her eyes were big and brown and shone with intelligence. She had on a violet dress, you know the kind, the ones that wraps the body in cloth with a shawl going over one shoulder. It fitted her aura so well.

She was alone, which I didn’t think much about at the time. Maybe a flitting thought about why her booth was so quiet with all the people milling around. She glanced up and our eyes met. She smiled this bright white smile and beckoned me over. I was surprised at first, I remember that. But then I thought, she looked so interesting, so we went over to her booth.

Her sign said she was Madame Marie (maybe named for Marie Laveau?) and she was from New Orleans. Wow, a real voodoo priestess from New Orleans! I felt myself actually getting excited. She smiled at me again and asked me to sit down. I never thought about it till later, but she didn’t seem to hardly acknowledge my boyfriend. She was concentrated on me. Needles to say, I sat down.

She watched me with those bright eyes and then she asked if she could hold my hand. I held my hand out to her. Gently she grasped it. I still remember her warm hand encircling mine. It almost felt tingly. Sounds strange right? I don’t know, but that’s how I remember it.

She looked at my palm and then she looked me straight in the eyes. Her voice was deep, smooth like velvet, yet soft. There was a definite creole accent. “You have seen trouble from a young age”, she stated in that smooth voice. I know I lost my smile. I don’t talk much about my childhood, but yeah I’ve seen trouble. “You are strong of mind and heart. You have come from many lives”, she says next. I remember my heart beating hard by then.

What she said next and last was what seemed so surreal to me. That is what stuck with me the most. Maybe it was bullshit. Then again maybe it wasn’t.

“You have strengths that you don’t know about yet. You have powers that have not been tapped. But they will be when needed. Your enemies should tread lightly.  You are a woman of the past.”

That was all she said. I didn’t ask any questions. I should have I suppose, but the feeling I got was she had said all she was going to say. I got up off that chair in almost a daze. We left shortly afterward. My boyfriend didn’t say a word about it till we got home. Then all he said was, “I told you, you were an old soul”. I still shake my head, but I remember her and her words today like it was a few minutes ago. She was unforgettable.

Surreal right?

psychic1

Posted in Blogging, Humor, nonfiction, postaday, stories, Uncategorized, writing

I’m Bringing Normal Back! (Once I figure out what it is)

First thing, I want to give a big Thank You! to the Hookster for giving me the idea for this post. Thanks again Hookster! You can read his funny blog about life as a bellman here! (and check out his book!)

courtesy of mimiandeunice.com
courtesy of mimiandeunice.com

We had a short discussion on me bringing ‘normal’ back. A lot of the blogs I read are authored by some really funny, sarcastic, creative people. I mean these people are just awesome. They are not what I consider ‘normal’. Now me on the other hand, I’m not funny, nor sarcastic, and I don’t take great photos. I’m really not very creative on my blog. I just write stories, either fiction or from my life. I’m normal. I think.

After my conversation with the Hookster I decided to try to find out what normal is. To see if I am truly normal, or if it’s another figment of my imagination.

The definition of normal via Dictionary.com is this:

nor·mal

[nawr-muhl]

adjective

1. conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural.

2. serving to establish a standard.

3. Psychology .

a.

approximately average in any psychological trait, as intelligence, personality, or emotional adjustment.

 

b. free from any mental disorder; sane.

 

So according to the dictionary, yeah I’m pretty normal, except for the ‘sane’ part maybe. After all I am a blogger. Now, let’s go see what the Urban Dictionary has to say.

 

A word made up by this corrupt society so they could single out and attack those who are different or

 

a statistic based upon a majority or

 

An idealistic state of being that remains as such. Because the idea of such a state varies from being to being and any set standard is nonetheless someone elses idea of what it is this condition warrants satisfactory confirmation of being amongst the confirmed members of such class, by the individuals code

 

Okay, maybe I’m normal, maybe I’m not. Depends on the majority I guess. Oh man, am I screwed. 😉

 

Let’s have some fun with this normal thing! I will add my very first poll. Then you can all vote if I’m normal or not! It’s anonymous, so don’t be afraid. Be honest! I’m trying to bring the sexy back to normal. (if it was ever there). Did I succeed?

 

normal

Posted in Blog challenge, Blogging, Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, postaday, stories, writing

Friday Fictioneers ~ Feb 8

It’s that time of the week again. Friday Fictioneers! Thank you once more to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this fine challenge every week. We all thank you!

THE CHALLENGE:

Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going over or under the word count.)

THE KEY:

Make every word count.

Come join us! It’s great fun and practice for your writing. Everyone is friendly and helpful. If you would like to read more stories please click on Rochelle’s name above and then scroll down to the  blue frog. Thank you!

copyright-Rich Voza
copyright-Rich Voza

 

*Genre ~ Fiction* (100 words)

The sun rose over the horizon. Bright, new beginning. For the day and for herself. The plane would be boarding soon. The first flight out that she could book. She had one suitcase. Not much to show for ten years. Except the baggage she carried inside her soul.

She smiled. She felt the heaviness leave her heart as the sun rose higher. Ten years of her life wasted. Imprisoned. Now she was free.

It took her the full ten years to plot out her revenge. He was going to pay for his betrayal.

 

Posted in Blog challenge, Blogging, nonfiction, postaday, Uncategorized, writing

Weekly Writing Challenge: Mind the Gap

This week’s Mind the GapHow do you prefer to read, with an eReader like a Kindle or Nook, or with an old school paperback in hand?

Some of my best memories are tied together with books. I was taught to read at an early age. I could read before I went to kindergarten. I have had a strong and long love affair with words and books.

When real life would prove too much for me to handle at times, I buried myself in books. At my best I could read 5 or 6 books a week. When I was school age I got them from the library. I loved the library! The smell, the quiet, the rows upon rows of books. Ahhhh, my kind of heaven.

My local library had a limit on how many books you could take out. They upped the quota for me, because I was there every week and always read more then my quota. Plus, I think the librarian liked me. 😉

When I got older and had some money of my own I discovered book stores. Fresh, bright book covers beckoned me from every shelf. I became a regular shopper of books. The sales clerks at one particular store knew me by first name.

I have always had shelves full of books in any home I have had. You know the saying “A house is not a home without a pet, plant, etc”. Mine is ” A house is not a home without books!”.

 

Reading Nook 02

 

 

Now I also have an E reader  I got it for Christmas a few years back. It took me a while to warm up to it. But, warm up to it I did. I love to take it on trips, or when I have a doctor’s appointment. It fits in my purse and I can just whip it out and have a few minutes of enjoyable reading while I wait.

It’s very convenient on trips as it takes up a lot less room then a bunch of paperbacks. It weights a lot less too. That being said, it still won’t replace ‘real’ books in my heart. I love the feel of the paper pages, the smell of the paper and ink. I just love me some real live books.

I can appreciate the E reader though. As long as I can read, I just plain love books. Either way they are produced.

Posted in Blog challenge, Blogging, Daily Prompt, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, Stories of my life, writing

Daily Prompt:Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

You need to make a major change in your life. Do you make it all at once, cold turkey style, or incrementally? 

This is the question asked by WordPress in their Daily Prompt. Since they asked about major changes I would have to say I make them all at once. But then again, maybe it depends on the change itself.

When I decided to leave my abusive marriage I at first made the change in increments. I became detached, I secreted away money (all though that didn’t help as he found the money and took it), I made plans. When I actually left was an ‘all at once’ decision. I hadn’t planned on leaving that weekend. I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was July 4th weekend. Independence Day. He was out boating with his girlfriend. I just packed up a suitcase, called my one friend and left.

When I quit smoking, that was a cold turkey style decision. I had smoked on and off for so many years. Since I was nine years old! Yeah, 9 years old folks. I was a rebel. Stupid also, but that’s for another time. I had stopped a few times over the years. Once for 3 years. Then something would happen and I would pick it up again. This time though. This time was for the rest of my life. Either it was quit smoking, or quit breathing. I don’t know about you folks, but breathing to me is kind of important. This year will be my sixth year smoke free.

When I found out I had a wheat intolerance, I made the decision for a gluten-free lifestyle. At first I did an all at once, cold turkey style change with gluten. Cut it out completely. Well, that lasted about 3 weeks. Then I slide back into eating gluten and feeling bad. But in my defense I live in a place that finding gluten-free products is hard. Also, I love bread, pasta, all that gluttonous stuff. Yes, I know, I hear you thinking……”your other blog is a food blog lady! Bake your own bread!”.

I could do that. Yeah, right. Believe me people you do NOT want me to bake. I’m a great cook. I love to cook. A baker I am not.

Then lo and behold! My grocery stores started stocking gluten-free products. The ready-made bread is yucky. Just plain terrible. The pasta is good though. So okay, I go without bread for a while. Do me good anyway. So I did go back to a gluten-free lifestyle. I do blog about it at ………. Change is Good…Right??     How’s that for a blog named the right way for today’s prompt? 😉

So, for the most part I am a woman who accepts change in an all or nothing way. That’s who I am in anything I do. Love, relationships, hobbies, cooking, health changes. It’s all or nothing. I tried being flexible once, it almost broke me. I am who I am, no apologies given.

woman