Saturday, May 30, 2009

Outside Birds

Yesterday was Stevie's chance to shine. Today we're chuckling at the outside birds. We have a suet feeder hanging under the eaves just outside our picture window in the kitchen. The regular visitors are from four families: the brown warblers, the downy woodpeckers, the catbirds and cardinals. The cardinals are the biggest but most timid. They don't realize that they could easily hang on to the suet feeder. So they fly first to my son's bicycle tire and then launch up, hovering like hummingbirds, grabbing suet and then winging away. (I'm sure they're feeding babies back in the holly trees). It seems like such an extraordinary expenditure of energy for a small amount of suet, but they keep coming back so it must be worth it. This is a not very good photo of one of them doing the hover.

The downy woodpeckers zip in and out all the time, undeterred by anything else going on -- except someone walking out on the front porch. And zip is the word. They seem to be able to stop in midflight to change direction. If they get scared off, they only retreat a short distance, and not
 scared off for any length of time at all. As long as they eat the suet and don't bang on our house, we're happy!

The brown warblers are in and out too, and when they're not eating, they're singing.  Loud. Right outside our windows. What God withheld from them in color he made up for in voice. Fortunately, they're pretty tuneful. They're also the ones our inside parakeet seems to most respond to when she hears them.

Then we get to the catbird. This bird is a mixed blessing. What an amazingly inventive creature. Although he's nearly as big as the cardinal, he's now where near as skittish. He figure out how to hang on to the feeder very quickly. Then he learned how to perch on the top of a nearby (unstable) windchime. He flies in from the right and lands lightly on top. The first few times he slid right off and had to recover mid-air. But after a few flights he nailed it every time! From here he can do a short flight to the feeder, rather than expending the energy 
to fly up from the ground and grab ahold of the suet cage. That is so 
clever! He's a marvelous flier, and beautifully sleek in his gray feathers. As he perches on top of that windchime the phrase, "sitting in the catbird's seat" is inevitable! Still, catbirds are pretty annoying to other birds. They're egg thieves, nest robbers, and food hogs. I know, you can't blame a catbird for being a catbird.  It's just their nature.

The funny thing is that the brown warblers can drive the catbird off. They're not the least bit daunted by this modern day Fagan!

So, if the catbird is smart but devious, the warblers sing beautifully and are fearless, the woodpeckers are the picture of perseverance, where does that leave the cardinal?

Big, Dumb, and Beautiful.

But who does everyone want to take photos of? Yep...there's probably a life lesson here that I don't want my kids to absorb.


Friday, May 29, 2009

Fun Film Friday #2

To set the stage: Our budgie is afraid of rubber ducks. So we place a row of them between where she is hanging out and any paperwork that we do not want budgie-bitten. But papers are an almost-irresistable lure for her, so she's working on overcoming her fear. 
The still shot is the barrier. 
The first film shot is her looking things over from a safe distance. The second is bravery triumphs!


Unjustly Accused

Doesn't it drive you crazy how your brain can replay a tape over and over? Last night I had trouble sleeping as I tried to resolve a comment someone made to me yesterday. Did I feel unjustly accused? Or was there some measure of truth in what the person said? Was I being unteachable or defiant in defending myself? After getting back up to read for a while I was tired enough to go back to bed...and the tape starting playing again. Finally, I fell asleep with the issue unresolved.

This morning I awoke with the realization that the reason I felt so defensive was that there was some measure of truth in what had been said. And while I didn't feel I was "as guilty" as accused, I was still guilty in thought if not deed. So, I'll pray about this today and ask for forgiveness for my sin as well as the ability to stop wallowing in self-pity (everyone picks on me, right?). Ick. This isn't easy. But if I want to stop the tape playing in my brain, it's the first step.


Thursday, May 28, 2009

Three Word Thursday

Three Word Thursday. To play, get the three words from Quilly, figure out what they mean (or not!), and put them into a story. Sounds easy? Wait until you see the words!

This week's words:

niddering (n) - a cowardly person; a wretch (I have to say, Quilly, that this one is awkward to use as a noun -- but that's what the dictionary says! Ick! Thanks for the challenge!)

amanuensis (n) - one who is employed to take dictation or to copy manuscript.

tyro (n) - someone new to a field or activity

“This isn’t going to be easy,” thought Alice, as she contemplated the disaster in front of her. Having always grudgingly admired those stories where a woman showed up at a bachelor home and transformed it into sparkling cleanliness, she was not sure now that she could be one of those women. Still, it was Brian’s place and the last thing she wanted her younger brother to think of her was that she was a niddering. Right now he needed her to be the brave one. Squaring her shoulders she asked, “Brian, where are your cleaning things?” 

Brian looked up at her from the sofa on which he was sprawled. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair splayed out in all directions. He looked like the mess surrounding him was a camouflage pattern with which he blended effortlessly. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “Marina always did the cleaning.” 

Alice’s countenance softened. Poor guy, the love of his life had been dying for as long as he’d known her, yet he’d stayed with her to the very end, obviously at the expense of everything else in his life.  “When’s the last time you were here at the apartment?” Alice queried. 

“I don’t know…after the funeral I sort of lost track of things for a while,” he answered. Alice considered her options. Should she be the stern sister or the cajoling one? “Bah!” she thought, “enough coddling. This place is out of control!"

"Alright,” Alice spoke aloud. “You are going to learn to take care of your home and I’m going to teach you. You may be a tyro in the area of cleaning, but you’re also a fast learner.” 

Brian groaned, “can’t I just watch you and take notes of what you say and do?” 

“No. You are not going to be my amanuensis!” Alice declared. “You are going to learn to do for yourself. It is time.” 

Brian groaned again, “can you at least speak English with me?” 

Alice responded, “it is a perfectly good word and if we can ever find a dictionary or a laptop in all this mess, I’ll prove it to you. Now take this old shirt and we’ll use it as a cleaning cloth.” 

“Are you crazy?” Brian leaped up from the sofa and grabbed the shirt from her hand. “That’s my championship Bulls jersey! I was there the night…” he trailed off when he saw the triumphant look on her face. 

“Okay, now that I know you CAN move if sufficiently motivated, let’s get started. Find me a garbage bag. Now!”


Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Pilates 101

First of all, it's pronounced, Pih-LAH-teez. You can google to find out more about its history. The important thing to know is that not all people who advertise themselves as instructors really understand the concepts.

I was fortunate. Several years ago at our local "Y", I took some classes with Janice Maida. She was never a dancer (many Pilates instructors come from the dance field) but had found Pilates as her way to back to health after a broken back. This woman who spent MONTHS in a mostly prone position ended up being able to do roll overs!  What's a roll over?  Do you remember when you were a little kid and they had you 'ride the bike' on your back during gym class? Legs way up in the air? That gives you a clue, but you really need to take a class to understand it.  In Pilates you do all of this with control and all your muscles firing to make it safe at 40+. It takes several classes to really start to listen to what your body is telling you, but it is SO worth it!

Anyway, I had my class this evening and as usual, I'm exhausted, I'm drained, I have EARNED my glass of wine, but I know that for the next two days, I'll be more limber, more energized and more aware of how my body is moving. This is important because as we age, we are fighting all kinds of processes of breakdown in our bodies...not to mention there is a positive relationship between aging and gravity, i.e. the older we get, the more gravity we feel! Ha ha.

If you're interested in more info on Pilates (and really, this study of mindful movement has saved my back), leave me a comment and I'll get back with you. If you live anywhere NEAR Northern Virginia, you need to take a class with her!  You can find out more about her and her philosophy here.  And if you live elsewhere, you can order a DVD through her website.

If you have kids, YOU continuing to exercise and listen to your body is crucial. It will be an example to them, and you'll be around longer to enjoy them.


It is pouring rain today and promises to do so all I visited my photo archives to see if I could find something worth looking at. These were all taken last Wednesday at Margaret's Garden in Herndon, Virginia. This endangered piece of heaven beckoned me last week to come discover all the shades of red I could see.

It is my hope that through my blog-friends at Ruby Tuesday, Margaret's Garden will receive a reprieve and if not, at least you will all have been blessed by photos of her lovely home.

Thank you to Work of the Poet for the Ruby Tuesday photo meme.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Mellow-fluous Monday Shot




This is my Mellow Yellow Monday Shot. She's yellow but NOT mellow. In this photo she's particularly irked because she had just bathed and was not at her best. Who says birds don't have attitude? Stevie does!


Thank You

To all the veterans in my family, living and not, thank you. 
Thank you for answering the call to service to our country.

To my husband, father of my children,
who takes on the scary bad guys so that the rest of us
can stay safe and free, words fail.
We love you.

To all the military kids:
I too have shared the waiting and wondering and worrying;
I've shared the anxiety of once again being the new student;
I know it isn't easy.
Thank you for hanging in there even when it's really not fun anymore.

To all the military spouses:
I've shared your anxiety of your beloved being in a war zone;
I've shared your difficulty in re-integrating these strangers
back into our lives after each deployment;
I've shared the sadness of tucking children in at bed at night
knowing I wasn't doing it 'like Daddy did'.
Thank you.

To all the military parents:
My son fully intends that I will join your ranks someday.
I pray that he will be as proud to serve our country as were
his father, mother and grandfathers.
I pray that your beloved child will be home soon and safe.

There's a bumper sticker that says,
"If you can read this, thank a teacher."
How about one that says,
"If you are allowed to read anything you want to,
thank a soldier."

Happy Memorial Day seems a weird way to express it
Solemn and Appreciative Memorial Day to you All.


Sunday, May 24, 2009

Oh! I'm So Sorry!

I posted my shadow shot and didn't even think about mentioning Harriet!  I'm so sorry! My brain was in the "wordless" Wed mode -- let the photo speak for itself.

So, here's the fix!

Thanks, Harriet!

Shadow Shot Sunday

Friday, May 22, 2009

Three Word er... Thursday

I messed up.  I wrote the story, but forgot to post. Probably comes from trying to maintain two blogs and raise two teens and invigilate when necessary...

Well, here is the story anyway! It is pretty long...sorry!

M'Bote and the Very Big Love

M’Bote began each day with a search for meaning.  Before the sun rose above the horizon, in the false-light of early dawn, she climbed this small rise of land so that she could look around the landscape and consider her day.  Just as there was a monotony to the landscape, there was a sameness to her day. The sameness  was wearying, yet in a curious way, comforting.  To know what was coming was to be able to go through the motions without concentration.  This freed her to engage in endless mental divagations as she searched for a way to make her future different than it was appearing it would be.  So far, she had not been able to see a different path.

As the dawn began to break, she murmured a little prayer that the missionaries had taught her in grade school, reflecting on a God who loved everyone.  “Even the men who take the boys to fight?” a girl had asked.  “Even them,” the white missionary woman had answered.  M’Bote remembered that young woman.  Her hair was the color of spun straw and her eyes the color of sky.  “Kim-ba-lee,” she had told them to call her.  M’Bote mouthed those syllables, foreign to her pattern of speech.  Kim-ba-lee had taught M’Bote about caring for people, their illnesses and their broken hearts.  M’Bote had loved studying how the different medicines helped people’s coughs, and itches and even more serious diseases.  But when the soldiers took her father, all of that had ended.  She wondered where the missionary was now.  She wondered whether the missionary wondered what had happened to M’Bote.  “Does she miss me?” M’Bote asked herself.

The bleating of the she-goat wanting to be milked broke her reverie.  She turned to go back to the kraal, winding her way through the senticous plants that covered the terrain.  It wouldn’t do to be caught by one on her bare skin.  The missionaries and their medicines were many kilometers away, and any wound could become very bad, very fast.  M’Bote had seen too many deaths already in her fifteen years of life.

As she approached the goat, M’Bote heard her mother call, “leave the goat!  Your brother will take care of it. You must come to be washed so you will be ready.”

“Ready for what?”  M’Bote asked.

“For your husband to come,” her mother replied.

“I do not want a husband,” M’Bote responded.

“You are foolish.  You need a husband.  If you do not have one you will have no one to take care of you and you will die alone.  Now come get ready,” came the answer from M’Bote’s mother.

After the goat was milked and the morning milk drunk, there was a call from the space outside their hut.  “I see you,” called a male voice.  M’Bote’s mother answered, “we see you also.  Please come.”  M’Bote hung back as a tall man entered the hut.  He was not too old.  He had only the wrinkles of working in the sun, but not of age.  He spoke with M’Bote’s mother and as he smiled showed strong teeth. Her mother called her over.  “This worthless girl is M’Bote.  I have told you about her.”  M’Bote looked at the floor.  The man said, “oh no, this is not a worthless girl.  She is worth very much!  She is costing me two goats and three chickens!” his laughter boomed out.  M’Bote was astonished.  That was an unheard of price for a girl from a poor family whose father had disappeared with the soldiers earlier in the year.  She risked a glance up at the man.  He was smiling and looking straight into her eyes!  She looked down again, confused.  “Get your things,” her mother said.

As M’Bote walked away from the hut with the man, her younger brother looked at her from behind the goat.  He raised his fingers in a small wave.  So many had already left this boy.  He no longer questioned that this was the way of his world.

M’Bote and the man walked until the sun was straight overhead.  Neither spoke.  When they got to a place where there was a tree, the man sat down under it.  “We will rest here until the sun is lower,” he said.  She sat, saying nothing.  “Do you speak?” the man asked.  “Yes,” she responded. “ Tell me something about you,” he said.  “What do you want to know?” she said.  “Tell me something that you are curious about.”  M’Bote thought for a few minutes.  No one had ever asked her a question like that. “I wonder . . .” she trailed off.  “Yes?” he demanded.  “I wonder whether the missionary Kim-ba-lee ever thinks of me,” M’Bote finished in a quiet voice.

The man’s laughter caught M’Bote by surprise.  It rang out with an infectious joy. M’Bote began laughing with him, unsure of why she did so.  When he calmed down he said, “young girl, that missionary is why I have just paid two goats and three chickens for you!”  “I don’t understand,” the girl responded.  “Miss Kimberly remembers you.  She remembers that you have a very good mind.  She remembers that you have very clever hands.  She remembers that you have no father to care for your family.  She remembers that you want to be a nurse.”  The man paused for a breath.  “Miss Kimberly wants you to come to live in Nairobi and study to be a nurse.”  M’Bote was confused.  “You are not buying me for a wife?” she asked, suddenly ashamed that she was not what he wanted after all.  “No child, my wife would not want me to buy another wife.  She is a Christian and I am a Christian and we have only one wife for each husband,” he said.  “I am taking you to Miss Kimberly.  Would you like to go there and help work in her clinic?”  M’Bote’s heart began dancing.  The man saw it reflected in her eyes and laughed again.  “But my mother believes I am going to get a husband!” the girl suddenly remembered.  The man looked a little bit troubled, “we let her believe what she wants to believe.  I told her that you would be taken care of, and that was enough for her to let you go.  Come now, we must resume our journey.”

The next few days were a wonderful homecoming for M’Bote at the mission clinic in Nairobi.  Miss Kimberly immediately put her in charge of assessing the young children who came for health care.  Some were very sick.  One morning M’Bote saw a baby who had died, but whose young mother would not or could not let him go.  With compassion, M’Bote went to sit with the young woman.  “May I see your beautiful child?” M’Bote asked.  Wordlessly, the young girl pulled back the scarf that covered the baby’s face. Even in death the baby was exquisitely formed, a miracle.  M’Bote held out her arms, and the young girl fell into them, sobbing.  “Sh-h-h-,” soothed M’Bote as she rocked the girl back and forth.  After a few minutes, the young mother allowed Miss Kimberly to come and take the baby away to prepare him for burial.

Later that afternoon, Miss Kimberly sat with M’Bote to take a little break.  M’Bote noticed that Miss Kimberly’s hair was not so blonde as before, and her eyes were not so merry.  “This is hard work, M’Bote,” Miss Kimberly confessed. “I feel so powerless.  I want to help all of them, but there are so many.  And there are so few that I have the medicine to really help.  Even those who have serious illnesses.  I can give only cough drops for tuberculosis.  I am limited to broth for people suffering from HIV-AIDS.  I can give only a rubifacient for deep muscle injuries.   “Yes”, M’Bote agreed, “but the people love the medicine that makes their skin red, and they think they feel better!” Miss Kimberly flashed a tired smile.

“But why…” M’Bote began, but stopped.  “Go on,” Miss Kimberly encouraged her.   “Then why, Miss Kimberly, do you come to Africa to help us?”  Miss Kimberly began to speak again of this God who loves everyone, rich or poor, African or not.  M’Bote listened carefully, waiting to hear the exceptions, the things that would apply to her and exclude her from this big love.  When Miss Kimberly paused she asked, “do you understand, M’Bote?”  “I understand your words, Miss Kimberly, but I do not understand a love this big,” M’Bote responded. “This is such a big love, I cannot understand how many goats and cattle it takes to equal this love.” Miss Kimberly smiled, “that is just the thing, M’Bote. There were never enough goats or cattle that could do it. Only God’s son’s death was enough to satisfy it.”  M’Bote marveled at such a love.

Soon it was time to begin the evening clinic. M’Bote handed out colored slips of paper to the mothers that indicated in which order their children would be seen.  As she worked her mind started its peregrinations again.  She reflected on a worthless girl from a poor family being worth 2 goats and 3 chickens.  If this was part of the big love, it was very big indeed. Suddenly, M’Bote stopped what she was doing and asked another girl to stand in for her.  She went outside the clinic compound and walked among the people waiting for the evening clinic, searching for a particular face.  Finally, in a dark corner, she found the young mother whose arms were empty, whose breasts ached with milk that her baby would never drink again.  M’Bote sat down with her, and began to tell the young woman about such a big love.


Life Is Just Too Short ... waste time reading books that don't engage your imagination. I've given myself a new rule that if a book doesn't capture my fancy by page 25, I'm not going to waste any more time on it. What a change from the days when I read ANYTHING just to be reading!

One thing I've learned working with the Used Book Sale at Reston Regional Library is that there are a LOT of books published that don't appeal to me. Even fewer that do appeal but that I want to spend money on! I've gotten so spoiled with our low prices that I can't stand purchasing anything from the BIG book stores...and even one of our local used book stores drives me crazy with their pricing, but I guess they have to make a living too.

Anyway, I'm going to list books on here that I found not worth the time to finish. If you read one of them and disagree, tell me that in the comments! If you think there's something I need to 'hang on' for later in the book, let me know that! And tell me what you like to read...and don't like to read as well.

The first is one that haunted me in high school. I tried it again as an adult with children thinking perhaps now I had the maturity to appreciate it.  Nope. Still terrible. The second is one that I just ran across the other day. Maybe for a Jane Austen fan, but I found it tedious. Actually, it is what prompted me to blog this. I kept glaring at it for a couple of days and then took action. SO the list begins:

Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy
Jane and the Wandering Eye by Stephanie Barron



This will be my first week of Friday Fun Film. I'm going to do it for myself for a while and then offer it up as a meme...perhaps.

The goal: a short film, taken by you, on this Friday, showing "fun." While fun can mean different things to different people, let's keep it G-rated and family friendly.

Here's mine to start. This is my daughter's parakeet, Stevie. Having a bird around reminds me of the toddler days in terms of attention span, neediness and mess...but worth it.


Thursday, May 21, 2009


Invigilate -- what a great word! Used by the 'test proctoring' community, it is what I will be doing today at
South Lakes High School for the International Baccalaureate program exams. It is the same thing teachers have always done -- monitoring students to make sure they're complying with the rules of fairness. It is a LOT harder these days for teachers though. With electronic devices getting smaller and smaller, and students being more and more creative, I wonder whether eventually testing rooms will have to have electronics jamming devices to be switched on during exams. Of course, that just escalates innovation and IB students tend to be a very smart bunch!

I am NOT implying that the students at South Lakes try to evade the rules! They have shown themselves to be diligent, motivated and when I've been invigilating, extremely rules-compliant. I enjoy being there with these bright young minds. It gives me hope for our future!


Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Wednesday Wordless (Almost) Wonder

Don't you just love finding something new to marvel to your friends about? I do, and I probably drive them crazy with my enthusiasm for the "most lately discovered" thing on my list!

Today is Margaret's Garden. I met my friend Darlene over there at 9 this morning to see the irises and peonies. Margaret is Margaret Thomas. She owns the property and loves vistors. If you want to know more about the garden, go here because I wrote about it for the Friends blog.

If you just want photos, enjoy! Today's photos are all mine. The really nice ones in my Friends posting were by Darlene.


Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Ruby Tuesday

I can't believe it! I actually took photos and got them uploaded...and on Tuesday! Thanks to Mary/the Teach at Work of the Poet) for the great idea to get out and look at things differently!  So here they are. I volunteered at my son's school library this morning, so these were photos on the way there and home.  


Friday, May 15, 2009


This one is cool!

Commination -- 
  • prayers proclaiming God's anger against sinners; read in the Church of England on Ash Wednesday
  • a threat of divine punishment or vengeance
Obviously, we're not C of E.  And of course, I found it in a British mystery by Dorothy L. Sayers. But she uses it in the second sense, very neatly in a paragraph about the tutors, students and exam week. Very cool.

On another note, I've decided that the internet has freed up people to feel their opinions are facts and therefore they are experts on everything. The proof of this is in many of the blogs I read yesterday. People are SO SURE that GW Bush lied...were they there? do they trust the same media they vilify to discover the 'truth'? Why do they see Congress as somehow more vested in truth? Does the record support that? I don't believe he did, but for the sake of argument, does that make everything he ever did while in office a wrong choice? People need to be careful where they go with this. If they will judge him by that standard, will they also hold liberal politicians to that standard? Or even themselves to that standard? I sure don't want to be judged by one mistake I make!

Unfortunately, scripture says, "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." That means ALL of us are condemned, for the 'smallest' lie or the biggest murder. In short, we who commit 'small' sins, like greed or sloth or gluttony, are just as deserving of punishment as is Adolph Hitler. Oof.  Kinda gets you in the viscera, doesn't it?

Solution? Praise God for sending his son to be a substitution for us. Thank you Lord Jesus!


Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Ruby Tuesday

Well, it's Ruby Tuesday (hosted byMary/the Teach at Work of the Poet). I'm going to try to tie in with these themes...but I'm not very organized about blogging.  I am about other things, but not blogging. At any rate, the point is to post a photo with something red in it.  Here goes!

This is one wall of the mural in the Childrens' area at our regional library.

Photo by Darlene (my friend -- next week I'll use one of my own)


Cool New Word

I'm reading a book set in Venice. Writing about the city at night, the author says, "A boat, that during the day, was making a delivery of soap powder or cabbages, at night became a numinous form, floating toward some mysterious destination." Now I have to figure out a way to get it into normal conversation today. Stay tuned.

The dictionary: Numinous - adjective
1. of, pertaining to, or like a numen; spiritual or supernatural.
2. surpassing comprehension or understanding, mysterious.
3. arousing one's elevated feelings of duty, honor, loyalty, etc.


Numinous is an English adjective describing the power or presence of a divinity. The word was popularised in the early twentieth century by the German theologian Rudolf Otto in his influential book Das Heilige (1917; translated into English as The Idea of the Holy, 1923). According to Otto the numinous experience has two aspects: mysterium tremendum, which is the tendency to invoke fear and trembling; and mysterium fascinas, the tendency to attract, fascinate and compel. The numinous experience also has a personal quality to it, in that the person feels to be in communion with a wholly other. The numinous experience can lead in different cases to belief in deities, the supernatural, the sacred, the holy, and the transcendent.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Wordzzle Challenge - Maxi

I guess the maxi is using all the words in the regular and the mini.  Here are the words from the mini.

operatic, stuffed animals, anger management, biographical, paint splatters

And here is my maxi:

Sara rearranged the stuffed animals by the back door and as she stepped outside, looked across the lawn to her neighbor who sat in her window watching Sara’s every movement. As she started out the garden gate to catch her bus Sara began an anger management mantra. "I will smile at the busybody. I will smile at the busybody," she muttered under her breath. A gentle spring rain had started falling by the time she reached the bus stop. Underneath the paint splatters left by grafitti artists stood a guy in a tailored blue suit. Sara glanced at her watch and registered the time. Then she glanced again and freaked out. “Oh my goodness! I am in such trouble,” she exclaimed. The guy asked, “excuse me? Do you need assistance?” Sara moved toward him as she tried to crowd under the shelter out of the rain. “I’m a teacher and I needed to be at school like an hour ago! Now I know why my neighbor was laughing as she waved goodbye at me! My principal is going to throw a fit of Biblical proportions. A mere seizure won’t be dramatic enough! This is the third time it has happened this semester. Last time she was positively operatic in her disapproval...” Sara’s voice trailed off as the man looked straight into her eyes. His were deep blue, hypnotic in their intensity. He asked, “what made you late?”  Sara considered giving him a quick biographical sketch and her phone number. His gaze made it difficult for Sara to admit that she had been watching a TIVO’d soap opera from earlier in the week. “I guess I just got lost in the story and a paralysis overtook my actions.” He turned away from her saying, “television? It’s bubble gum for the brain. I thought you looked more intelligent than that. But don’t worry, I have the solution. When did you need to be at this bus stop to be on time?” “Umm…7:00, but how…” Sara squinted at the bright sunshine flooding down on her. The man said, “don’t squint, it will give you wrinkles.” “But where did the sunshine come from?” she asked. “Oh, I just reversed time. At 7 a.m. the sun was still bright. Now you won’t be late.” Just then, the bus drove up. As Sara boarded she looked back to thank him. But he was gone. Sara wondered, “if I’d told the truth --  that I was watching that History Channel special on the woolly mammoth, would he have been more impressed?”

Wordzzle Challenges

Very cool blog. the creative juices flowing.  Here's my attempt at the challenge.

gentle spring rain, mammoth, soap opera, worry, bubble gum, garden gate, seizure, of Biblical proportions, paralysis, wrinkles

Sara flipped her blonde bangs out of her eyes once again, waved to her neighbor who sat in the window watching Sara’s every movement, and started out the garden gate to catch her bus. A gentle spring rain had started falling by the time she reached the bus stop. There was a guy in a blue suit standing under the shelter facing away from her. Sara glanced at her watch and registered the time. Then she glanced again and freaked out. “Oh my goodness! I am in such trouble,” she exclaimed. The guy turned around, and asked, “excuse me? Do you need assistance?” Sara moved toward him as she tried to crowd under the shelter out of the rain. “I’m a teacher and I needed to be at school like an hour ago! Now I know why my neighbor was laughing as she waved goodbye at me! My principal is going to throw a fit of Biblical proportions. A mere seizure won’t be dramatic enough! This is the third time it has happened this semester.” Sara’s voice trailed off as the man looked straight into her eyes. His were deep blue, hypnotic in their intensity. He asked, “what made you late?”  His gaze made it difficult for Sara to admit that she had been watching a TIVO’d soap opera from earlier in the week. “I guess I just got lost in the story and a paralysis overtook my actions.” He turned away from her saying, “television? It’s bubble gum for the brain. I thought you looked more intelligent than that. But don’t worry, I have the solution. When did you need to be at this bus stop to be on time?” “Umm…7:00, but how…” Sara squinted at the bright sunshine flooding down on her. The man said, “don’t squint, it will give you wrinkles.” “But where did the sunshine come from?” she asked. “Oh, I just reversed time. At 7 a.m. the sun was still bright. Now you won’t be late.” Just then, the bus drove up. As Sara boarded she looked back to thank him. But he was gone. Sara wondered, “if I’d told the truth --  that I was watching that History Channel special on the woolly mammoth, would he have been more impressed? It is so difficult to know just what interests men these days!”