writing

Obtuse

Today is a rant. I need to get it out; it’s blocking my creativity. Thank you ahead of time for your patience….More uplifting and entertaining writing will follow, I promise!


Why are people sometimes so obtuse?

We all are at times, I know; and we cannot always balance what we want or say, feel, or do to make everyone else happy. I’m not saying that at all.

Okay, I know…Lighten up, Frances! And, boy, do I try!!!

But still, there is that realization, especially when you are close to someone, that maybe, just maybe, restraint or courtesy needs to be extended.

But let’s get honest…are you that obtuse or do you just not care? How do you think I feel???

Sounds like I’m coming in sideways, I know. But it could be over anything for anyone. The recovering alcoholic being offered a beer, a fat person being guilted into eating that slice of cake while they are on a diet, that thin person being told they need to eat more, a joke about losing hair when dealing with alopecia, or a childless woman forced to watch two hours of comedic situations about women discussing new mom events because her husband just has to see it… then being asked “is that what it feels like?”

So, I try to laugh along, all the while being torn up inside, and turn my attention to work so I don’t have to express what I feel…

…because…lighten up, Frances.

writing

Decisions, Decisions

The recent days are just a blur. She placed the heels of her hands to her eyes and rubbed. Her mind raced through details as work grew around her. Her nerves were steady for once, but decisions need to be made.

They say to go for the thing that makes you scared, for that is where you will grow the most. But, is it what she really wants? She worked hard for the opportunity, but twice before saw it slip away like the finest of sand through a sieve.

She just got a promotion, doing what she knows she does well, but the opportunity will be a challenge for her. She never has feared things that were hard…always opting for them instead of complacency, unlike her home life. But she’s older now; does she have the stamina she believes it will take?

She lifts her head from her palms and tries to focus on the task at hand. A flurry of messages fly across her screen. She imagines what it must be like for those in the position she is considering.

Her mind spins with a bevy of questions. She needs to put them down and present them; then she will know better. Then she can make the decision.


Have you been faced with a career changing decision? How have you determined which path to take?

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Killjoy

It started in little innocuous ways.

So small, it was almost imperceptible.

Cards, greeting cards. I loved giving

And getting greeting cards. I still do.

But it wasn’t a thing in his world.

It made me sad, but I no longer bother,

Unless it’s from me for a special holiday.

But I lost some joy with writing them out.

Next up was Christmas, oh, it’s a secular thing.

But I pulled back so much, lost some fun.

Slowly it grew back a bit, and I still love the tree

And decorating, but there is still not as much joy.

Last year, it was our favorite vacation spots…

Suddenly, he didn’t want to watch the sunset

Or go for walks. He didn’t appreciate the

Breakfasts at the B&B either.

So I won’t plan to go to either now.

Why bother, if it doesn’t mean anything anymore?

The fun, the joy, is gone. I miss it.

writing

Dimmed….

Ever get that feeling that nothing is flowing, nothing can come out of your mind? All creativity is trapped in your brain and the only bits that come out do not make much sense?

I thought it was all because I was exhausted, working too much at my paying job over the past few months. So, I took a break from that and it helped a few days. But I’ve back at my normal load again, and the block is back.

Exhaustion set back in and I know it is all mental. I look over things I put together in the past and see the sources of my inspiration, but now I’m trying to find just a glimmer of that, a small spark to start me on my way again. It escapes me, like trying to hold onto time.

Thanks for continuing to read what comes out of this brain. I’ll keep working on it; hopefully that spark will be back soon.

writing

A Turn More Serious

As I sit here in the apparent Petri dish of the land, Florida, I find I am growing numb feeling for people who come down with severe cases of COVID who choose not to be vaccinated.

I feel for those who cannot get vaccinated due to being under 12 or have legitimate health issues. I feel for those who have breakthrough infections who have been immunized. Let me make that clear. But I no longer feel sorry for anyone who refused to get the vaccine at this point. I don’t want you to die, I simply no longer feel for you.

I will still wear a mask, because I care enough to not want others to get sick, but I am only having to do this because your D-A didn’t do your part…. So understand me as I glare at you with daggers coming out of my eyes and take a wide berth walking around your sorry A. I would like to be able to go mask free again sometime this year…get it done!

writing

Fresh Pens and Paper

The Target commercial is already playing in my head… “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”

It’s that time of year again. The displays are stocked with pens and pencils and markers. Shelves are filled with papers, spirals, and notebooks galore.

Even as an childless adult, it makes me smile to see back-to-school supplies. Shopping for supplies was one of my favorite things to do all the way through even my college years.

I remember one year, in middle school I believe, picking up a waterfall themed trapper keeper. It was covered with greenery and bright pink flowers. It was one of my favorites.

I am such a nerd. I still find reasons to stock up this time of year…pens, spirals, even little zippered pen holders now and then. It reminds me that cooler weather and fall is coming with its change of seasons… Soon it will be time to bust out the deep purple, garnet and orange shirts. I wish I could say sweaters, but, you know… Florida…


What’s your favorite time of the year?

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Chlorine Girl

This morning, I drove by our local pool store, like I do every morning. However, this morning it brought back fond memories…


I was the Chlorine Girl starting at the age of nine. For three years, I worked for my folks after school, on weekends and during summers as they set up and ran various pool stores in sunny Florida. Child labor laws? Ha! Not when it’s family! Honestly, it was a fun job for 50 cents an hour. I did more than just fill chlorine jugs…but boy, did I fill jugs!

Customers would come in, greet my Dad or Mom and bring their empties back to me. I would fill them up and place them on the cart, then wheel them up to the register when they were ready. To this day, I can not stand the smell of chlorine!

It was always fun when our customers would bring in pool water samples. I felt like a little chemist, measuring out the water into the vials, adding drops, shaking it, then reading out the results. Sometimes it’s the nerdy things I did that make me smile!

On the flip side, I would also pretend to be this grand host, putting on the best of the best poolside parties. We sold patio furniture and all those outdoor housewares…Tervis, Stotter Ware, napkins and such. I learned different ways to fold napkins and created all sorts of ways to make tablescapes. It was silly girl fun, and probably why I have our dining room set with napkins and placemats to this day!

If I wasn’t working while at the store, I was doing homework either at one of the tables if it were quiet or back in the office. Working was way more fun! Good times…

Well, thanks for letting me journey down memory lane a bit today. Have a great one!

writing

Plight of the Lefty

I was born this way, a lefty. My grandparents grew up in a time where lefties were considered touched by demons. In their generation, they would force lefties to only use their right hand. So, my mother is ambidextrous. But for me, there was hope.

Life in the righty world can be hard for lefties. So much is rigged against us. Scissors are made backwards. School chairs are made with the arm rests on the right. Even the games we play work better if you’re a righty. Rumor has it, lefties have more accidents just because we exist in a right-handed world.

That’s just what the world offers. So, lefties, we adapt. Some of my adaptations appear strange to the outside world. Others often go unnoticed as I’ve worked hard to blend in. I’m always amazed when someone sees me sign a document and proclaim to those around us, “Wow! You’re a lefty!”

I just smile and continue on.

Spiral notebooks are the devil for us. But I still love them. Instead of my paper being straight out or slightly angled to the left, I place it almost perpendicular to my body when I write. It’s the only way I can reduce ink getting all over my hands.

Those school desks? Well, when I would arrive to class, I would turn it 90 degrees, just so I could pay attention to the teacher and write my notes. It always bothered me when a teacher would make me “sit straight”… they didn’t understand the adaptation wasn’t showing off, and I’d typically not do quite as well in their class than if they’d just let me be.

Scissors can still be a challenge for me, even in my forties. It depends on what I’m cutting. And don’t get me started on “lefty” scissors…they are worse than suffering through the “normal” version, and were probably designed by a righty!

But, there is one great saying that comes from being a lefty….we’re in our right mind. Oh, I wish that were really true, but we all know the reality, don’t we?

Happy Sunday!

writing

“Christmas Eve/Sarajevo” – TSO

It’s Christmastime. She’s sitting in the drive, windows rolled up, air conditioning going full blast. She’s in no hurry to go in to entertain the family sitting in the living room. There’s time for that. For now, she needs to listen.

The music starts to play…purely instrumental, purely orchestral, purely rock. Some may be shocked; it’s her second favorite holiday song behind Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne”. She reaches for the volume and turns it up, as loud as her car speakers can handle. The windows and mirror begin to vibrate.

Carol of the Bells and God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen are amped up and electrifying. She closes her eyes. She feels the beat and moves her hands against the steering wheel before her.

She’s transported to another place, frozen over, snow falling, a vision of an eerily silent place fills her mind….a far distance away from the hot Florida holiday. She gets lost in the sounds for three and a half minutes.

The song closes. She breathes, and turns off the car. Time to see the family.


It’s that time of year, where thoughts of cooler weather and the holidays start in my world…Christmas in July. Growing up, my dad would pull out his tapes, and later, CDs, and begin playing holiday music this month. I’ll be sharing various snippets this month in honor of his memory. I hope you enjoy this a little blast of Winter as the summer heat settles in.

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Wishes

I wish I’d had a little Boo,

A sweet little girl, wide-eyed and innocent.

Big eyes, the color of her Dad’s,

Brown hair like her Mom’s in pigtails

And an infectious giggle that didn’t stop.

Joy and laughter,

coloring and running around.

A love for her monster Sully, ever so sweet.

I wish I’d had a little Boo.

A sweet little girl to read fairytales to,

Spinning up some special stories just for her.

Watching her grow and blossom.

I wish I’d had a little Boo.