jcqudeen
Patience? Ha! What a laugh! It's something I only have with my art. Not with people and especially not with little urchins who love to repeatedly do the exact opposite of what I've asked them 4 or 5 times to do just so they can see mom lose it. I'm convinced that's why they do it. I'm also convinced that God or whatever deity is out there is enjoying a huge belly laugh because of it. We're her daily entertainment.
"Here you go," he said as he handed me the small crocheted doily. A doily, of all things! I stared at it in bewilderment. Just what was I supposed to do with this? Sensing my confusion, he took the doily from me, placed it on the coffee table and then sat my tea cup atop it. "Sorry. You see, my grandmother raised me and, southern belle that she was, she ingrained in me that a cup must always be set on a coaster," he explained. "Unless you're at the dinner table, of course. Not the most masculine of coaster choices, I know, but they remind me of my her."
"All that jazz...that's all you can think of? Really? Come on? There's got to more than that, doesn't there? All that jazz and razzmatazz. Is that really even a word? I know, go look it up in the dictionary," my daughter uttered, shaking her head as she turned away to go in search of the dictionary. What she didn't was me, sitting and shaking my head in time with her's. "Go look it up in the dictionary" I'd said. Oh! My! God! I'm turning into my mother. That's what she always told me to do.
"Garcon! Garcon!" she cried while waving her hand frantically in the air as she tried desperately to get the waiter's attention. Anna thought Shelly looked rather silly, sitting there all prim and proper as she imagined Shelly thought a Frenchwoman would sit. She knew it was their day to speak French as much as possible in order to be fluent for their trip, but this was carrying it just a bit too far. "Shelly, drop the lousy French accent and just yell "Waiter". I doubt the poor guy knows what you're saying."
"I want a raise in pay? No. Raise the house? No, that's raze. Hmmm...maybe it is raise the house. Can houses levitate? Raise the kids? Can kids levitate? Oh! No, it's not that raise either. Raise the alarm? Is that right? Why does nothing feel right about how to integrate the word raise in a sentence?" she thought. "Man, this is harder than it seems. Maybe I should raise the dead and ask for help."
I walked out on the deck of our new house that first April and my glance slide from the carpet of green grass to the freshly blooming shrubs and continued up to the trees filled with leaves. That's when the first panic attack set in. Our backyard was a fortress of green with no sky in sight unless I tipped my head back to see immediately above me. I needed to get off the deck. NOW. But the panic attack had me paralyzed as my backyard held me captive.
She held her cheek up for me to kiss it and then took my face in her hand and turned my head so she could kiss mine. Of course, when I pulled away, my cheek showed a big chocolatey mouth print. She giggled when she saw what she had done...on purpose, I think. But isn't that what little girl kisses are supposed to do? Leave lasting imprints? At least on one's soul, if not on one's face.
"Oh! Please tell me that wasn't real" cried the new intern as she stared at the Ming vase now laying in pieces on the floor. "Well...actually, yes it was" replied her new boss. Both stood staring at the pieces, neither sure what to do next. "How are your sweeping skills?" asked her boss.
I adjusted the focus on the camera and got ready to take the photo when the lens cracked, producing a very skewed image on the viewfinder. "Think this qualifies for out of focus" I asked.
I stood at the door to the deck and couldn't believe my eyes...there was a bear on my deck. A big, black bear. I'm accustomed to squirrels, birds, wild turkeys, raccoons and deer in the yard, but bears? That's just a bit too much.
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