Walking this morning, I noticed the first frozen-over puddle. After crossing the street I bent down to capture these frosted leaves before the sun melted such delicate velvet.
- First Frost (exburyegg.me)
- A Bird In The Frost (verajackson.wordpress.com)
- First frost (yearofbeingme.wordpress.com)
I’ve come downstairs to curl up on the couch. I can’t sleep upstairs in my bedroom anymore tonight. Every time I drift down towards dreamland, a crash from that big bush outside the front window snaps me upright.
In a sense of almost unparalleled terror, I called the police at 3:45 and they came by to check things out. No, no one was skulking around. Of course not.
That was just over two hours ago. I haven’t gone back to sleep yet.
I don’t want to be that crazy lady who calls the police all the time.
I want to be the lady whose house wasn’t burglarized.
This is about where I am right now. I’m still learning how to manage this blog from a computer that is not my own. I’ve given up on about sixteen different posts, because I couldn’t get them to do what I want.
- The layout is wrong (because I can’t use the program I want to make it right, which ran from my laptop).
- I can’t find the picture I want (because it was stored on my laptop).
- I had started with a different approach (but, again, it was on my laptop).
I’m starting, no, continuing to be frustrated. I’m annoyed. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m a lot of things.
I just want my computer back. Barring that, I just want a computer that is MINE.
Because someone broke into my house and stole my laptop.
With all my writing. And pictures.
The DVD player is missing, too, but I don’t care about that.
Because it’s not about the object.
It’s about the contents.
Hitting the pawn shops tomorrow. Hoping for the best.
Hope wasn’t on the hard drive. It’s on the heart drive.
“Are you okay?”
I had fallen in the icy parking lot outside the bookstore. He came to help. Such is grace. The unmerited favor bestowed, and then accepted. Humbly.
“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you. Guess I didn’t realize how icy it was.”
“You went down fast. I’m sorry I wasn’t closer.” He looked over to his friend, who was still twenty feet away. “You’re not even wearing a coat!”
“Oh, I just came out to get something from the car. I left my coat inside. I’m fine. Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay. Have a great day!”
“Thanks. You, too.” I nodded at them both, and they were gone.
Such is grace. Unasked. Unmerited.
What’s Five Minute Friday?
A blog-prompt project dreamt up by LisaJo Baker, which you can read about here. The basic idea is that you spend five minutes of writing, generally unedited (I correct typos, WAY too OCD not to do that), on a prompt that she provides just after ten p.m. via a tweet, then spread the word, and link up. Interested? Join up. Enjoy a delightful assortment by clicking on the picture to the right, or here.
Some times it’s easier than other times. Sometimes it’s just hard.
I remember the first time I saw one of these. I was nine or ten, and visiting the neighbor lady’s house. She had it lying on her kitchen table, and I asked her what it was.
“Well, what does it say?”
“’Here is your round tuit.’ What’s a tuit?”
”Read it again.”
”Ohhhh… I see!”
I think that was the first time I understood what a “play on words” was. I remember being thrilled and feeling smart.
I wish being thrilled, feeling that smart, and getting things done was as easy as finding one of these.