Finish the Sentence Friday – The Sounds Around Me

Nov20

Sometimes they shock me, like lightning bolts inside my veins. I feel them pulse, the ebb and flow of constant sound sometimes slamming inside my mind. Boom. My hearts feels the percussion. Airplane screaming high above. My stomach churns, palms pressed tightly against my ears. Little refuge is found, all around me . . . sound.

Sometimes they flash brilliant colors only my eyes can see. The world inside my head, purple, yellow, green. Strike a chord, my ears register the tone, my thoughts follow the slash of neon light accompanying it.

Throaty breath, crunchy snacks, crinkling paper, and whispers send me franticly searching for silence. It hurts. A different kind of pain I haven’t words to describe. An anxious pain, an angry pain. Real. But some sounds, they send playful tickles across my skin, or feel like a soft caress; they are among my favorite sounds, curtains billowing in the wind, rippling waters along a sun kissed shore.

Soft, spongy purple earplugs long ago became my favorite accessory. Without them, the world around me sounds like war; unseen and unknowing foes attack without relent.

On the coldest night, the fan in the corner still blows, a soft blanket of white noise, my lullaby.

I love to listen, I don’t want to miss a sound, but so often I must. So often I do.

Laughter makes me smile, it’s one of my favorite sounds. That one wraps itself around my heart. Classical music, Pachelbel – I feel it like a cloud of cotton cushioning my soul. Crying moves me, it stirs something deep within. Raindrops on my window, on my roof, each falling drop a symphonic resonance of peace and renewal.

Surrounded by sounds, held captive by some, set free by others.

Written for Finding Ninee’s Finish the Sentence Friday! Check out her absolutely, awesomely, wonderfully, fabulous blog HERE!

And here I thought I’d never find romance –

Nov20

Anyone who knows me, even just a little, knows I love books. Lots of folks love books, I hear ya, but I really love them. More than you do, don’t argue.

Books are so much more than possessions, they’re my friends, always have been, always will be. Books soothe my soul, they embrace me . . . words come to life and wrap themselves around my heart.

The best gift I can receive is a book. I wouldn’t say no to money though. Or coffee.

So the other day, an unexpected package arrived at my home, it was from a beautiful friend of my mother’s, a woman I’ve admired and respected for many years. I thank God for the friendship between her and my mother. To say I was surprised and excited and oh-so-curious as to what could possibly be in that yellow envelope would be an understatement.

Guess what it was . . . you guessed books, right? Because if you guessed books you were totally right!

Now, this is awesome for several reasons:

#1 Books
#2 No one sends me anything
#3 They were from an amazing human
#4 They are the first books of their kind in my library

I read a lot of books in all kinds of genres except one, romance. I’m not even going to get into it. I kind of, sort of cannot stomach romance novels.

*please, no defense of romance novels needed, if you love them, I think it’s awesome. I like historical biographies and Shakespeare and sci-fi, and those kind of books might not be your thing, but we’re both reading and that’s pretty cool.

Now, guess what these new gems I just got are? Go ahead, guess. Are you thinking romance? If you are, you got it! Romance novels delivered direct to me. But these aren’t romance novels like I’ve ever seen before, these are amazing.

(bet ya didn’t see that coming)

Seriously, the moment I saw them I knew I was going to love them. The covers alone are delightful.

I learned something too, there is a huge, monumental difference in romance novels from the 1920s and 30s and those taking up shelf space today.

There’s an innocence to them most of the world tossed to the wayside long ago. They are lovely and a little cheesy and I am looking forward to stepping inside and reading every wonderful word.

Alimony by Faith Baldwin, copyright 1928

“Must a man pay a woman not to live with him, even though she prefers another man?”

This one is all about love and money and jealousy and the six lives controlled by them.

“Her voice shook a little, but her eyes were gallant enough. Her worst enemy would have pitied her. She had been a fool, a blind, grasping, avaricious fool. She had wanted her cake, and she had eaten it too. But it turned to ashes in her mouth. Now she was paying. But then, she had paid all along – in terror, in cowardice, in the learning of bitter wisdom.”

District Nurse by Faith Baldwin, copyright 1932

“Ellen was cool and impersonal in helping poor girls who had been betrayed – until one of them mentioned her fiancé’s name.”

Ellen Bartlett is a young nurse with a bit of a cynical outlook on love, after all, she tends to young women who have been hurt and betrayed by men. Jim loves her, but then she meets Frank and falls in love with him instead. Ellen’s resolve and her sense of duty is put to the test when she asks one of the girls to name the man who hurt her . . .

“In her room she sat down and regarded herself blindly in the mirror. Here were her eyes, her gray eyes, that wavered and fell before her own regard. Here was the red, shaken mouth which Frank had made his own . . .”

Professional Lover by Maysie Greig copyright 1932

“Rex Brandon, passionate lover on the screen, “turned on the heat” to win the girl in love with the director who had made him famous.”

Starr Thayle, former secretary to an (engaged) movie director she’d fallen in love with, quit her job and became a gossip columnist. That’s when married Rex Brandon, a steamy on-screen lover came into the picture. Ellen hates him, her column on him got her fired. Then more unexpected surprises, her former boss actually falls in love with her, and so does Rex! The other two women in the mix have some surprises of their own.

“Starr fought her breath. Like all other girls share had always dreamt of someday becoming a famous star. But that dream, she thought, was too fantastic. Like a sensible girl she had turned her back on it. But here was Stephen offering her a part of that very dream on a silver platter.”

Now , if you’ll excuse me . . . 886 pages of vintage romance await me.

Thank you Miss Jennifer, from the bottom of my heart . . . thank you.

True Story – Mom Brain

Nov17

Seriously, I do these things. In this past year I’ve put a book in the fridge, a package of ground beef in the bread cupboard, the television remote in the car, my phone in the pantry, and garbage in the laundry hamper . . . I’ll stop there.

I don’t even have little kids anymore. I think they may have damaged my frontal lobe somehow.

The Morning Sun – Six Sentence Stories

Nov17

Slivers of light pierced the veil of gloom she’d shrouded herself within. Pinpoints of resplendent sunbeam shone through the netted curtain, dancing upon her face, stinging her eyes with their intrusion.

Rising from her resting place stirred still sleeping particles of dust and fibers to waltz round in twinkling circles with the sun. Ever so slowly she rose, blanket in hand stumbling toward the light.

Standing before the window with outstretched arms, she flung the blanket over the curtain rod and climbed back into her bed, once again beneath the comforting cover of dark. She wasn’t quite willing to relinquish the night just yet.

I’ve been meaning to join in the Six Sentence Stories fun for some time now. Lazy, busy, preoccupied, better at writing real life stuff than making it up, but this one is kind of real life, except my curtains aren’t netted.

Now I need coffee, the morning has come . . .

The Misanthrope’s Alphabet

Nov16

A is for ASSHATS everywhere I look

B is for BUTTHEADS who give dirty looks

C is for CRYBABIES that never stop whining

D is for DOUCHEBAGS that never stop lying

E is for EVERYONE who can’t behave well

F is for FOLLOWERS who won’t think for themselves

G is for GROUCHES who bring everyone down

H is for HOOLIGANS acting like clowns

I is for IDJITS and everything they say

J is for JERKS who just want their way

K is for KISSASSES who bring so much strife

L is for LOSERS who need to get a life

M is for MONSTERS who are mean just for fun

N is for NINCOMPOOPS every single one

O is for OPPRESSORS and the peace they disrupt

P is for the PESTIFEROUS who need to give it up

Q is for the QUITTERS leaving everything undone

R is for the RADICALS who target everyone

S is for SNOBS who make me wanna scream

T is for the TROLLS who hide behind their screens

U is for the USERS who never pay their dues

V is for the VEXATIOUS twits who bother me and you

W is for WINY ones with their panties in a bunch

X is for the XENOPHOBES I’d really like to punch

Y is for the YOKELISH YOUTH who seem to have no manners

Z is for the ZEALOTS with their speeches and their banners

Now you know new ABCs, next time please don’t sing with me, (you know, the whole misanthrope thing?) It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just . . . well, you’re a people and misanthrope’s don’t much care for people, so –

I suppose you think I’m an asshat now, it’s right there in the first line. I’m not one, an asshat. Not all the time. Rarely even. As a matter of fact, I’m actually a really sweet person and now I feel bad, not bad enough to change it or anything, because I’m also a little mean and my sense of humor is warped beyond repair and I really DON’T like the kind of people mentioned here in The Misanthrope’s Alphabet.

Come to think of it, you don’t have to be a misanthrope to get on board with this alphabetic rant, as a matter of fact, I bet super good, super nice folks would maybe even agree with me.

I wonder if I should have used MISANTHROPE for M?

I do like people, in theory, and sometimes in real life too. Just so long as they cannot be assigned any of the attributes described in A – Z.

So, I guess that’s all. I really am a nice person. So nice.

(for real)

Heaven’s Choir has a New Voice

Nov15

Rest In Peace Holly Dunn . . . Raise your voice in the heavens.

I wrote you a letter . . .

Nov15

I just wanted to take a moment or two to say hello, you may not know me, but maybe you do. Perhaps we’ve passed by each other on the road, shared a smile in the store, or crossed paths online. Maybe you’ve been my life-long friend, maybe we’ve just met.

You might be family, or something that feels as close to family as you can get. You might be a stranger, but it doesn’t matter, I’m writing to you because you matter to me and I wanted you to know that.

I’m not all that adept at starting up conversations, so this is the best way I know to tell you all the things my heart wants to say, a few of them at least. I hope you don’t mind. The thing is, I don’t know if you know how I feel, this may be the only way I can tell you. I tend to be a little on the quiet side (until you get to know me) and people say I can be hard to read in person. I’m different, but really, aren’t we all? I don’t want those differences or perceived differences to keep us apart because I value you. I do.

There will likely be things we don’t see eye to eye upon, but that’s okay. We are more than a few opinions, there’s more to me and more to you than current affairs and hot topics.

I’ll tell you something, even I don’t agree with you, I’ll always do my best to be respectful and try to understand. I’ll defend you and stand by you because I think that is what we should do for each other. I may not fight your particular fight, but I’m your battle buddy if anyone tries to tell you don’t have the right to speak up for what you believe. I know all too well how it feels when someone tries to silence what is in your heart.

I know sometimes you will have a bad day, I have them as well. I’ll do my honest best not to judge who you are based upon a fleeting moment in time when maybe you were dealing with something that made everything else seem bad too.

I want you to be happy. I want to be the person you see smiling in a crowd of frowns, I want to be the one to hold doors open for you when no one else does. I want to be a shoulder you can lean on, a helping hand, a friendly voice.

See, I am always looking for these things too, sadly, I don’t always find them, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be and do the very things I seek.

I don’t know your complete story and you do not know mine, if we did, I wonder if it would make it easier to reach out. Sometimes I’m afraid to. I simply don’t know who will reach back and who will slap my hand away, but if I don’t, how can I expect others to?

I hope and pray you have a beautiful day, and I hope if we do happen to pass each other by, I will see your smile, and you will see mine . . .

If someone pissed in your coffee, it wasn’t me

Nov15

I have no idea what made him so grumpy, but boy was he grumpy. We both scanned shelves in the small aisle of size 8 women’s shoes, there’s no way he wore a size 8, so maybe that’s why he was grumpy. Could have been the poor selection, I don’t know. He huffed at me as he pushed past to seek out other things and other people to grumble about. I tried to smile at him, just a little smile though, I think the frown he returned may have been grumpy enough to cause some new frown lines on his weathered face.

Finding nothing that didn’t look like Lady Ga-Ga would go ga-ga over, I decided to call quits on my unsuccessful shopping adventure and popped in line to purchase a cold drink, unsuccessful shopping makes me thirsty. Grumpy-boots lined up behind me. I say behind out of technicality, he was way up in my personal space, mumbling under his breath about moving it along.

When the person in front of me took a step forward, grumpy-boots took one, even if I hadn’t yet. Annoyed, I turned to him and asked if someone had pissed in his coffee.

“Pissed what?”

“Pissed in your coffee. Did someone piss in your coffee this morning? Because it wasn’t me . . .”

Grumpy-pants took a step back, I thought maybe I should have kept my trap shut, but then – he started to chuckle. That chuckle turned into a cackle and that frown of his looked remarkably like a smile.

“I suppose they did.”

My turn to pay, as I walked away, I heard him tell the cashier to hurry it up, he had to get home and piss in someone’s coffee.

Effective immediately

Nov14

I, Crystal Reneé Cook, being of sound(ish) mind, do hereby relinquish, surrender, and abnegate any and all duties, rights, and responsibilities previously afforded to and required of me in respect to the cooking duties of this establishment. In layman’s terms, I quit.

I no longer possess the skills necessary and needed to provide well balanced, properly prepared, edible meals that require any measure of high heat. This includes, but is not limited to, the cooktop, the oven, the toaster oven, the barbecue grill, and possibly the crock pot. I do retain continued access to the toaster, microwave, and the coffee maker until and if it is deemed I am no longer able to utilize them with any measure of safety in the manner for which they were designed.

I apologize for any inconveniences this may cause to my family, I am sure they knew this day would come.

Signed in sincerity and love,

Mom

Post script I am still the CEO of this family, I’m just not going to cook for you anymore.