Tag Archives: Daily Prompt

The Truth Bites Like a Ratt’ler

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051ce924c033b55cd00671b7be06e277--running-away-my-sister

Dad’s ignoring me as usual, but I guess that’s better than a slap on my face. Mother dries off the breakfast skillet, picks up a fussy Delma, and says, “Cono, yer goin’ te town this weekend te sleep over at Mamaw’s.”

“How come?” I ask.

“Aunt Marguerite and Aunt Eva are there. They wanna see ye.”

Well, I can see all the way down to the truth, and it feels like I’ve swallered a ratt’ler. Dad’s still mad that I’d bitten that toothbrush in two and doesn’t want me around. I don’t want to be around him either.

Still, I don’t want to go. I like Dad’s sisters well enough, but I want to stay here with baby Delma.

Mamaw, Dad’s mother, is the toughest grandma I know. It would be a whole lot easier if I just ran away and caught a train to somewhere else. As I sit on that idea like a chicken warming her eggs. I decide against it. Everybody says that the trains are filled with starving hobos on their way to California. They say they like to eat children under the age of twelve. I’m afraid they’d eat me too even though I’m little and skinny.

I guess I have to go.

 

Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper

 

via Age

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Proceed with Caution

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“Always pay attention to your surroundings,” Dad always told my sister and I.

Perhaps he said this because he grew up in West Texas during the Depression  – a place and time with caution at every turn of a dirt road.

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(Dad on right)

And, perhaps he remembered this piece of advice from his stint as one of the original deputies for the county Sheriff’s Department.

(I do remember, though, that toward the end of his life, he stopped needing the advantage point of sitting with his back up against a wall.)

Perhaps Dad was covering his ass – literally.

His maternal grandfather, my great- grandfather, used to tell him”

“Always pay attention ta what’s around ya. ‘Cuz if ya don’t, something’ll come up and bite ya on the butt.” 

And perhaps, my great-grandfather said this because he himself didn’t have any teeth.

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via Bite

What are they talking about?

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This makes no sense to me. I have no experience with such things:

“Get inside the vehicle and depress the clutch to shift the car into “Neutral.” Insert the key into the ignition and turn it to the “On” position. This is the place the key would be after a normal turn of the ignition switch for starting. Instead, with a clutch pop, the ignition will already need to be on so that when the engine is turned over, the key is in the On position.Move the car in position to be pushed from behind or sent down a slope for the starting procedure. Check to see that the brakes will …”

What? Huh?

To me, this is what happens when you pop the clutch:

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via Clutch

More than Nostalgia

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The wonderful thing about writing down memories is keeping them. Because later, like me, you will find those written words.

I wrote this 26 years ago when my son was two years old:

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As grown-ups, we have learned much about life. But we learn much more by watching children experience and discover the world anew. I am about to be the grandmother of my fourth grandchild. I have much yet to learn.

Childhood and it’s atmospheric beauty!

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(my daughter’s first child — my second grandchild)

I am forever grateful.

 

 

 

 

via Atmospheric

Dancing Away Sorrow

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twirling-white-skirt-lg

My legs move fast

my feet still remember

Mama ran away.

The Charleston ends

my feet, still

I plunk a new recording on Victor Victrola

plant the needle in the grove

turn the crank.

My feet move again

green and yellow squares of rug

melt together

I spin, braid pinging from one shoulder

to the next

like two different suitors

tapping my shoulder

asking to be my dance partner.

Like a wild mushroom,

my skirt puffs

the swoosh of movement says,

“Everything will be alright again.”

I squint to believe.

 

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via Mushroom

The Recycling of Dead People

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Perhaps, with a droll sense of humor, you will chuckle to learn what French artist Martin Drolling used to make Mummy Brown.

“Art historians believe he used the remains of French kings disinterred from the royal abbey of St. Denis in Paris” to create the burnt/raw umber hue in the below painting.

Kinda makes you think twice about what the women on the canvas are actually thinking.

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daily word prompt: via Droll

Plain or Pretty – we can all relate to this

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A reminder about the challenges of growing into ourselves.

Unknown
I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say “come dance with me”
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn’t all it seems at seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said: “pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve”
The rich relationed hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
So remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debitures of quality and dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
When dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me…
We all play the game, and when we dare
We cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say: “come on, dance with me”
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen
                    by Janis Ian
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daily post prompt: Dubious