Real Life Reflections

It is now 10:28 p.m. I should be tucked in bed, Marje at my feet, a book in my hands, and sleep swiftly on its way. . . Well, three out of four ain't bad. Instead of the book, I have my laptop. I may not have time to post my usual Wednesday blog tomorrow, so I thought I'd give it a go tonight; and besides, I haven't had much opportunity to write lately and it's making me grumpy. So if the author of this blog seems to be a little incoherent or dozes off in the middle of it, you know why. In approximately 27 1/2 hours it will be Thanksgiving Day, 2009 - a day when we stop all of our usually activities to attend a feast. There aren't too many meals throughout the year that can hold that title, but Thanksgiving Day? I don't know what else you can call it. It's certainly not just a meal. The feasting itself isn't the primary purpose of the day though - or at least it's not supposed to be. It's meant to be a day to focus on those things in life for whi

Prompt: Write a description, a memory, and a fantasy about a particular object, also a monologue from that object's perspective. Take five minutes for each piece. So Marje isn't an object, but with the recent death of my sister and brother-in-law's infamous dog, Phinney, my thoughts have been lingering on dogs of late. Here goes: Description: Marje is virtually coal-black with long fluffy ears, a short tail and a smooth coat (when it's short or she hasn't been recently bathed). She's just beginning to gray under her chin. Large dogs think she's a pip-squeak. Little dogs think she's huge. In other words, she's medium-sized - about fifteen pounds or so. Cute. She is definitely cute. Dogs and their looks are like humans. Some people are just people. Some are beautiful. Some are cute, and some are . . . well, let's just say they're not eye-candy. Marje is eye-candy in the dog-world. Memory: My favorite dog-memory is one of our previous dog, Minni

What? God rested? God? The God? The one Who "never sleeps nor slumbers" according to Psalm 121? Either Moses (the author of Genesis) lied about God resting or King David (the psalmist) didn't have a clue. or did he? How can both be true? Let me toss this thought out to you: I think God rested on the seventh day as an example for us to follow. He didn't sleep or slumber, but neither did He work. He simply sat back and enjoyed all that He had done that week. I can just see Him sitting on a beach chair in heaven, shades on, head back, soaking in the rays of the sun He had recently created. He hears some laughter, maybe a few birds twittering happily, and He sits up to look around. A big grin spreads across His face as He watches His creation having fun enjoying having been created. He elbows Jesus, sitting there to the right of Him, and says, "Son, check this out - the kids are playing tag - Adam and Eve and the sparrows." The Holy Spirit comes up behind them

The prompt for this story was: someone just found out that instead of the six months they thought they had, they actually have another twenty years to live. Lily scooted herself to the edge of the exam table and set one foot on the floor and then the other. She absently untied the gown the nurse had given her, let it fall, and walked over to the chair upon which her clothes were piled - her bra and underwear discreetly tucked inside her blouse. I guess this is good news. She thought. Mechanically, she dressed. After 73 years, dressing didn't take much thought, which was a good thing today as she was lost in the doctor's words. "Are they sure?" Margaret asked incredulously as she set her glass of Merlot down on the table. "He ran the tests three times because he couldn't believe it himself. He says there's no mistake. He's completely confident. There's not even a hint of it anywhere - in any part of my body. He called it a miracle." Lily took