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Sometimes I think I’m allergic to making plans, having fun in a planned way. Last night I asked my daughter if she would like to meet for lunch today. I’ve been sick with a cold and felt better the last couple of days. Thus, the invitation.

I woke up early this morning feeling sick to my stomach and the thought of eating anything, well you can imagine. I went back to bed thinking I would feel better later. At 10:00 I told her I couldn’t go. It’s now 11:00 and still no better. I would try to meet but maybe my cold isn’t just a cold but some type of flu, so definitely can’t make it.

It’s not unusual for me to make a plan, or an appointment and then have to cancel. Weird, you say? Yes. I would say it had some psychological undertone, but I really wanted to see the family today. I miss them!

I am extremely disappointed.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/allergic/

Do you have an address book?  I have four. From the first years of marriage up until the last few years I have maintained an address book.  The last one is practically shredded and is no longer attached to its cover.  There are multiple crossed out entries, changes to their addresses penciled in. I started out with ink to keep the favorites, but as fifty years passed, the pencil versions were better kept.

The memories an address book brings up when you look at it. . .some people no longer with us here on earth, is sad.  The addition of married names and their new babies is always a happy one.  Kids growing up with new school addresses, or apartments and homes of their own, so many changes.

It’s a reminder how fast things change.  All the crossed out old addresses, added spouses and children tend to let you know you’re aging.

The most tender memories are the friends you’ve moved away from, the fun things you used to do as couples, the good times, or relatives,  thinking of past visits.

I keep all the old address books because they’re like a photo album of memories.

http://lindaghill.com/2018/01/05/jusjojan-daily-prompt-january-5th-2018/

This is my take, maybe you feel the same way. When writing your blog, taking the challenges, following prompts, etc., do you sometimes have trouble with word count, trying to fit in your whole idea–feel like your creativity is hemmed in, your original idea squashed? I enjoy the 50, 99, and 100 word challenges very much. It makes you chop unnecessary words, better learn how to express your idea to the reader. There’s also probably much more chance of it being read. It’s one of those “so many blogs, so little time” things. When I have no limits on my fingers, I can be a bit boring. . .its okay, I admit I go overboard sometimes. We all do. Writing a viable poem, or prose to fit in the suggested or required parameters make us better writers. See what I did there? Included myself as a writer! Yikes! 😂

It must be the influence of my new year’s hope.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/viable/

The game was setup, taking a long time. Then blast off, the arguments began. Who is going to be Jon Snow? I want to be Arya! So it goes in the Game of Thrones.

My first attempt at this one minute Flash challenge. Yikes! I hope it passes the rules.

About Lovely Curses

“Yes, that’s what she said.” Joe was explaining to his therapist that every time he wanted to be passionate with his wife, she said this.

“I see, tell me more” Doctor Jujubee dragged out as he tried to straighten up in his chair.

“Well, doc, you know I love my wife but I think she’s lost the spark we used to have when we were first married.”

“I see, go on.” The doctor had difficulty keeping awake since his three vodka lunch, but he leaned on his fist trying to look interested.

“Every day it’s the same thing, after two times, she just says the same thing. . .again?” The eighty year old patient finally got the doctor’s attention.

http://lindaghill.com/2018/01/04/jusjojan-daily-prompt-passionate/

“850, come in. Come in, 850.”The call went out with no response. It was Saturday night, a New Year’s nightmare, roads icy and slick. 911 calls came every few minutes and the fire and rescue department was in alert.

District 2, truck 850, and first day as the driver. It was a dream come true for the young man. He was heading through the stop light, sirens, lights blaring, flashing, but it didn’t matter.

A drunk semi driver smashed into the truck causing it to sway, hitting the guardrail. The impact threw the drunk man free of the fatal crash.

Three Line Tales, Week 101

Was watching AXSTV documentary “AXS: Paul Simon’s Graceland”. Amazing introspective of the making of the album, including film footage of his trip to South Africa, and explanation of the song below. Of course I’m a huge fan of this composer and this documentary shows the talent he has, along with the many musicians he uses. Of course I like Chevy Chase also. If you like lots of music, AXS has tons of it.

https://rugby843.blog

Think I’m going through a Minions phase:

https://rugby843.blog

This is one of my favorite challenges:

Slowly opening his eyes, the lad realized it was daytime. The crack of light was not from the moon any longer but the warm sun. He needed that tiny sliver, as he huddled closer to it, trying to receive as much warmth as possible. It was a wonder he didn’t freeze to death the night before. In his small blurred vision he was able to make out some of his surroundings.

Joseph only remembered walking home with a bag full of holiday treats, hot bread, cheese, fruit and a bit of chocolate. Suddenly he was grabbed and thrown into a car, knocked unconscious and woke up blindfolded and hurting. Shoved into this new home of an old stable, he was again knocked out.

The warming sunlight was not enough to keep him from shivering. He needed a fire or heater. He pulled the dry straw around him, curling up to retain his natural body heat. Why was this happening to him? What could they possibly want? He had no money, no rich parents to provide a ransom, nothing really, except himself. His thoughts then turned to the diabolical way kidnapped victims were treated, the rare survival, and fear started to creep up on him, sending a new set of shivers up his spine. His imagination joined in the fearsomeness and tears welled in his eyes. He tried to shake it off, to calm himself. He needed to make a plan to escape.

Joseph was a young man, a school teacher of the younger students, and quite naive to most of the rougher ways of the world. He was content and happy with his work and tried to maintain his life on an even keel. He didn’t go out much, was satisfied to be at home by himself, reading and listening to music. His life may have seemed lonely to outsiders, but he was living this way by choice. This may have been one of the reasons he was not missed that evening. It was a school holiday and he had no interaction planned with school friends and no family.

The straw did little to help barricade the cold, and he wondered what “they” were planning. He knew there was more than one, however he couldn’t decipher if they were men or women, old or young. It was too quick, too surprising, and not a word was spoken. His fingers ran over his forehead to feel a large sore bruise and his cheek and teeth were also sore. He only hoped these were the only punishments he would receive. He tried to go back to sleep and gather needed strength for what might come next.

He woke again to see the light had widened, the door was open. He couldn’t believe the vision. He slowly crept toward the opened door.

The kidnappers made a mistake, had taken the wrong man. They abandoned Joseph and now he was free to leave.

http://secretkeeper.net/2018/01/01/weekly-writing-challenge-122/