I’m not what people think. I’m not good or positive or responsible or noble. I’m not happy. I am not just a –anything –THAT is the only fire that kindles my passion.

Every day, I walk the world in intentional numbness. I fog emotion so as to dampen disappointment. I blur reality to handle it. I am not alive. I am not real. My optimism persists in the hope of a future change or an alternate reality.

In a someday.

Yet every day I grow older and fatter and less cognizant. The world of my imagination will never be.

The world is only taxes and dishes and children. The world is not mine to seize anymore; it’s those children’s. I’ve waited too long for me.

All that’s me is a memory, and a mom in a minivan.

Goodbye.

(I’m unplugging for a bit. I’ll post the poetry stuff, for sure; not certain what else, besides.)

1,000 Posts

Technically, this announcement is #1,001, but… I MADE IT TO 1,000 posts! Yay! Happy 1,000th Post Day, Blog!

1000 Posts

First Post: “The Post You May Never Read,” on June 25, 2017.

Most Commented-On Post: “Really Big News of a Non-Writing Kind” -not surprising as it was my pregnancy announcement!

Post With the Most Views: My About Me page, which proves you’re all a bunch of stalkers.

Day With the Most Site Hits: December 20, 2018, when many fine writers contributed parodies of favorite Christmas songs for our fifth Terrible Poetry Contest, then I apologized for announcing winners early.

Followers: 936 (Wouldn’t that have been cool to also be at 1,000?)

Blogs I Follow: 290

~~~~~

Thanks, everyone, for the support! Here’s to 1,000 more!

Something in the Mail…

I came back from vacation to a little surprise waiting in our mailbox….

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Hmmm… Air Mail addressed to me, in a padded envelope…

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It claims to be a book! I think I know what ‘book’ this is!!!

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And I know some of those “fellow bloggers!”

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Not sure about that signature, though. Hopefully it’s legit.

Stay tuned for a book review, all ye others who are also expectantly excited. I will finish tonight.

THE KIRKWOOD SCOTT CHRONICLES: Skelly’s Square by [Black, Stephen ](Dude; you could be reading, too! Click here for the Amazon link.)

 

O’Snap, That’s Life

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You may be wondering where the winners of this week’s poetry contest are. Don’t worry; I promise to post them by the end of the day.

In the meantime, I wanted to share one of my favorite t-shirts. I wait all year to wear it and no one else seems to think it’s as funny as I do. 🍀

The Most Sleep-Deprived Time of the Year

My apologies. I just realized that I announced the ending and the winners of The Terrible Weekly Poetry Contest a day early.

The reason is that I thought today was Friday. I’m not sure which Friday because I am so exhausted lately it ought to be illegal for me to even run a washing machine.

…I tried.

Anyway; again, my apologies. No one pointed the mistake out, though, so maybe I’m not the only writer needing a long winter’s nap.

This all ties into something I meant to mention at my weekly wrap-up on Wednesday, which is that I will not be writing a Wilhelmina Winters nor Skinwalkers story next week. I will post the next Skinwalkers tomorrow, and keep the other days for whatever strikes my fancy.

I hope you all have a merry Christmas, especially if you do not read another message from me till after it’s all unwrapped and done.

 

Ho! Ho! HO! The Eighth Annual Holiday Contest Is HERE!

Free Children’s Story Contest! Enter before tonight!!

Susanna Leonard Hill

Deck the halls!

Light the menorah!

Fill the Kikombe cha Umoja!

It’s time for…

THE8THANNUALHOLIDAYCONTEST!!!

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~forchildren’swriters~

The Contest:  Write a children’s holiday story (children here defined as age 12 and under) about A Holiday Hero!  Your hero’s act of heroism can be on a grand scale or a small one – from saving Christmas to leaving a fresh-baked loaf of Challah bread for a homeless person to something like Gift Of The Magi where two people give up the thing most important to them to be sure someone they love has a good holiday.  Your hero can be obvious or unlikely.  Your story may be poetry or prose, silly or serious or sweet, religious or not, based…

View original post 1,905 more words

Wilhelmina Winters, Sixty-Five

A very somber Winters family walked down the wide hall to the hospital exit, intent on the bleak and cold parking garage beyond. Wil was so absorbed by her thoughts that she bumped right into someone in passing the main reception desk.

“Watch it-!” an angry girl’s voice began, then stopped. Wil stopped as well, her mind slowly catching up with her ears and eyes. “Oh, hey, Wil!” the injured girl said. “Long time no see!”

Wil blinked. It was Reagan. Not sure whether she should acknowledge their friendship or not, Wil decided on copying Reagan’s casual tone. “Hi… um… Reagan. Nice to see you, too.”

Reagan laughed outright. “Yeah.” She could barely suppress a wry smile. “Well, guess I’ll see you at carpool!” And she left, more laughter echoing behind her.

Shaking her head, Wil began walking to the exit once more. She stumbled into her stepbrother this time. “Watch it, Wil,” he grumbled. Surprised at the lack of insult, she glanced up to his face. Jakob was not looking down. He was staring off in the direction of Wil’s carpool companion, his expression one that Wil could not remember seeing before.

Reagan rounded the corner out of sight, and Jakob returned to the present to find Wil staring at him. “Real smooth, Wheels,” he said, shortening his favorite nickname for her due to their parents’ proximity. He slouched out the sliding doors.

“Wil.” She looked to see her mother smiling in an encouraging way. Cynthia held out a welcoming hand. Wil clumped forward to take it and relished the soft, loving, comfortable connection. Her father led her mother led Wil behind her sullen stepbrother and out into the dark winter evening.

Ice cloud crystals hung for seconds before their warm exhalations as they walked. The harsh, cold air cut through their coats and scarves and filled their lungs with frigid breaths. Cynthia began coughing with the strain; they huddled round her and moved more quickly to the car.

Jakob was waiting, leaning against the rusted blue hood of the car. Once Rob unlocked it, Jakob opened Wil’s door for her and half-bowed. Not to be outdone, Wil curtsied. She wobbled to a stand. Jakob pretended to shut the door, so she climbed inside.

Rob turned the key in the ignition and was rewarded with a low *chhh-chhhh-chhhhk*. He tried again, to no result. The third time, he offered it some verbal support. The fourth time, he remembered to give the old sedan encouragement from the gas pedal. At last, it clunked to life. They all relaxed to a shivering relief as the air slowly warmed up.

Rob put the car into reverse. He backed out, straightened, and headed for home. Cynthia turned to smile warmly at Jakob and Wil in the backseat.

“What do you say we all sleep in tomorrow?”

Wil thought that was a great idea.

 

Continued from Sixty-Four.
Keep reading to Sixty-Six.