Priced to Sell

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is SNAZZY

And here’s my response….

Snazzy loops and curls
decorate the railing.
“Solid oak door.”  He raps the wood.
“Don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

Bolts loose cement shabby paint flaking.
“A grand old house,
needs some work.
Priced to sell.”

Hubby thinks we can afford it,
someday do a bit of reno.
The realtor smiles.
“Let’s go inside.”

Creative Minds

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is CREATIVITY. I can hardly let that pass without comment.

It amazes me what all people can come up with when they set their mind to it. Creativity takes so many forms: art of all kinds, food preparation, decor, music, creative writing. And we certainly owe a lot to past inventors for the good life we enjoy today.

Here are a few examples of creativity:

Briam Cute — Pixabay
Jill Wellington — Pixabay

And this cutie:

Michel 89320 — Pixabay

I’ve been fairly creative myself; at different times I’ve enjoyed writing, drawing & painting, sewing and piecing quilts.

Now here’s a verse of mine that suggests we need creativity when responding to someone whose mind is slipping.

WIND CHIMES

Ever notice how
the constant tinkle of wind chimes
on a windy day?
can rub your nerves raw
after an hour or two?

I pray for more patience
as Dad asks the same question
every half hour. I say “Sorry,
we haven't found your car keys yet.
Better stay home anyway. 
Price of gas so high now.”

“LOVE the Child”

The Ragtag Daily Prompt word for today is CONCRETE. I’ve probably posted this story before, but the wordplay is so suitable for this prompt. This scene took place somewhere in England, back in the 1950s — when it was still possible to give a child a cuff on the ear for misbehaving.

LOVE THE CHILD

A professional psychologist was constantly admonishing parents to “Love the child.” An expert in his field, the doctor encouraged all his clients and his neighbors as well: “Children need to be shown love and kindness.”

One day the doctor had a new concrete pathway poured in his back yard. A few minutes later he looked out and saw a neighbor boy slopping through the wet concrete. He rushed out, grabbed the boy, and was about to give him a cuff on the ear when a neighbor woman saw what was about to happen. She quickly shouted out her window, “Remember what you always say, Doctor. LOVE the child.”

“To which he replied, “I DO love him, madam — in the abstract. But I DON’T love him in the concrete!”

The Weaver’s Shuttle

Our Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is DOORMAT. Well, there is snow on ours again this morning, and on our steps, and the lawn. Just a dusting, with light flakes still coming down.

When I got up just after 5pm and looked out on another white morning, a type of depression started to cloud my mind. You may have heard me say we’ll welcome any moisture here, however it comes, but I’ve had quite enough of snow for now. I contemplated crawling back into bed and pulling the covers over my head. However, that wouldn’t change the scene out my window so, rather than wimp out, I made myself a cup of coffee and faced this day. The temp at 6:30 is 1 C, so the snow won’t stay for long.

Shuttle of the Weaver

We had a dear friend, Nora Weaver, who passed away four months ago. Nora was no doormat. Though she had rheumatic fever as a child and was left with a damaged heart, she was an inspiration to all with her zest for life. Nora married Adam Weaver, they had five sons, and she carried on in her quiet way at their home in southern Pennsylvania. She loved homemaking, her family, church family, and gardening. Nora was known for her love of flowers. In her later years her weak heart gave her serious woes so she needed several major heart surgeries, plus she fought several bouts with cancer — the last one took her life. I trust she is at peace now in a much better place.

Her husband decided to fill some of his quiet hours at home by starting a blog. He needed to take several years off to care for Nora, but now he’s back to driving a motor coach for the Old Order people there in PA, so he’s calling his blog THE SHUTTLE OF THE WEAVER. Yesterday he writes about taking a group of Old Order Amish school children to the Ephrata Cloister. You can read his post here.

Like me, Adam was born in 1953. However, we came from totally different worlds. Adam and Nora grew up Old Order Mennonite — the “horse & buggy people” — whereas I grew up a city girl, living with my aunt & uncle in Saskatoon. My five siblings lived with my parents near Melfort, SK, two hours away. None of us had nothing to do with church. So it’s amazing in a way that, as adults, Adam & Nora, Bob & I, have joined the same Mennonite church and became good friends.

The weather’s still damp and chilly and the sky is slate gray, but reading a few of Adam’s blog posts has cheered me up. Now I’ll see how other bloggers have responded to this prompt, then get on with my day. 🙂

Doodling Doesn’t Pay

It’s time to post another Six Sentence Story, so here’s my response to this week’s prompt word BOOK. Six Sentence Stories is a writing prompt posted by GIRLIEONTHEEDGE; participants link their tales through Inlinkz

Doodling Doesn’t Pay

I’ll admit that I’ve always been a scribbler and doodler. Though I do most of my scribbling in a sketchbook especially for that purpose, any sudoku or puzzle book — or even scrap paper — that happens to be near at hand when the urge hits me gets some kind of decoration. With all these bits of doodling through the years, I’ve become quite a mediocre artist.

However, my dear husband wasn’t happy with me at the breakfast table this morning when, wanting to try out my newest gel pan, I grabbed and scribbled on a slip of paper lying on the table. I thought it was the perfect size but I really should have paid more attention, as it turned out to be a cheque he received from a customer and was going to deposit in our account today. Artwork or not, he says he can’t deposit it looking like this.