These past few weeks could only be described as boring-times-three,
but that’s about to change. The second half of every month is when all my
reoccurring social dates take place. If life was perfect, those dates would be
spread out throughout the month but a little unfairness never killed anyone. Whining
about it might not add to my happiness quota, though, so
I should stop doing it right here and now. At least my reoccurring outings
aren’t to medical clinics, caring for an elderly parent or other stress
inducing life events that I left behind when my husband and dad passed away. ‘Boring’
can good. Not that I’m glad they’re gone. But, you know what I mean. It’s the
living with the dying process of loved ones that I’m glad is in the past.
Dad and Don were by far the most influential people in my life and I will
always be grateful that they were both good, honorable people. My life was
richer having loved them. However, love changes to another form when
someone dies. It’s poignant instead of warm and fuzzy. It’s sad instead of
smiles and sunshine. (One paragraph into this blog and already I’ve used three
words on the writers’ list of no-no words: ‘little’, ‘but’, and ‘so’. Maybe
I’ll make it a goal to use all thirteen before I’m finished. Stay tuned. I’ll
let you know if I accomplish that infamous feat.)
Still, it’s almost the middle of August and with that date
on the calendar I’m fighting with myself to keep the change-of-seasons melancholy
away. Soon the school bus will be picking kids up at the end of the cul-de-sac,
the leaves will start changing to a palette of colors I love in nature but
loathe everywhere else and I’ll be collecting flyers off my mailbox from
snowplowers. Look at me, I’m rushing my life away again instead of being in the
here and now, enjoying the way the early morning dew sparkles as the sun threads
itself through the White Pines outside my window.
I read blogs written by women
who enjoy their morning coffee by pools or in gardens and I think, why can’t I be like that? Why can’t I
let the sweet, summer smells and sounds of early mornings help wake up my brain? Why
do I have to start multi-tasking from my very first cup of coffee until
bedtime? Recently, I realized I was watching an online video and TV plus
writing at the same time. “This is crazy,” I said out loud, “pick one and go with it!” Do I
have to wait until I’m imprisoned in an adult version of a highchair, drooling
in my breakfast before I finally learn how to live in the moment, letting my
senses drink it all in? By then, I’d probably bite some well-intentioned
caregiver who’d be force feeding me. Hey Missy,
I’d be thinking, can’t you tell the smell
of bleach, urine and institutional oatmeal mixed together is making me sick!
My ‘Write and Share’ Meet-Up group met last night. Only five
of us attended and all we did was each read a couple of pages we’d written followed
by positive reactions from the others. No cutthroat critiques from this group. It
was a simulating conversation and the range of personal and writing experience
we cover is amazing. One woman (my age) goes to writing workshops all over the country
and is well-known in the local coffee houses that have poetry reading nights. A
guy has a master’s degree in literature and where my vocabulary could fit in my
hip pocket, he’d have to carry his around in an overnight bag. Two us who are
self-taught writers who mostly write memoir type stuff. Three of them belong to more than one writing
Meet-Ups. When I read a story about Don titled The Colorado Barstool Rancher the poet said, “I challenge you to
submit that for publication. It’s just the kind of short story a lot magazines
like Reader's Digest are looking for.” Needless to say, I went home wearing the compliment on my
face.
As promised, as I wrote this essay I kept track of the thirteen
words writers should avoid using at all costs: Little, but,
looked, oh, and, just, very, tiny, then, and then, so,
look, suddenly. The ones I’ve
underlined are the no-no words I used up above. Two of those
words---‘but’ and ‘and’---I’m so addicted to using them they should go on my grave
marker. “Here lies Jean, the Queen of Using Conjunctions.” ©
