Whispers Of Chills And Surges Of Fever

 

He’d come to pick up his son. The front doorbell rang but she was busy with the others in the back room. Startled seeing him in the doorway, she instinctively glanced him up and down as he did her. “We’re dressing alike. This isn’t good. He must be some kind of freaky. I’m an alpha. We’d argue about who’s in charge. Could be fun. Hhmmmfh. Why am I thinking this?”

 

“She’s an alpha” ran through her mind. “She needs more love than any others.”

 

“Where did that come from?” She looked around.

 

He was at the far end of the classroom signing his son out. He looked back; she caught his full image. Smiling she walked toward Little Hercules who’d bent the handle of the plastic broom in half. He was concentrating trying to get it to flip up and down…

A Review Just ‘Cause

We watched the newest Alvin and the Chipmunks movie and who showed up, as far as I’m concerned the only part of the film that’s worthwhile, none other than Stiffler’s Mom. What role does she play? The babysitter who’s to watch Alvin, his brothers, and the human teenage boy who may very well become their stepbrother. Who does she acknowledge when she shows up to check in on the boys?

Let’s just say it ain’t the Chipmunks.

Thinking

 

Thinking: Back Burners Of My Mind

Far Cornered Space Without Sun

 

Staring at the wall in early A.M.

Death trying to take my soul

Nah, I don’t think so

 

Get up, write, coffee, watch the day awake

But I feel strange… oh, feel that sun

Alive in some way – ha

 

I wish things could be accepting

I had thought this way

But at the end of the rope, no

 

I began with hope aplenty

Something will open up

There’s something there, somewhere

 

Who knew?

When things are falling apart

They’re really falling right into place

 

Saw it posted on one of those sites

I hope so; write back though doesn’t feel like always, no

Joy has left me in a far cornered space without sun

 

Like the poetics of that one, yeah

Not the pixie in the movie, moving on

She doesn’t realize thinking only one way

 

Where to now, St Peter, whoever, who’s left?

I feel worn as if I am done

Maybe done with that but more to come

 

You know it

 

Spoke with Grandma and my dearest friend

Yes communing, they’re dead people

I think of them and miss them

 

So?

 

Don’t go on you yourself don’t miss family and friends

Who’ve passed …

Where will it end?

 

I hear we don’t really know

Too funny

I said, “Remind Him for me”

 

You know, the big “H”

A socio-spiritual moment

But who’s to say, and whose right the way

 

Maybe here’s a good place, or there’s

Though I’m the one needs reminding

In the far cornered space without sun

 

Yeah, I like that one

No Secret

 

Absitively Posolutely

 

 

In the café breathing in her breve her eyes drifted toward the clock. “Oh.” Trudy knew she’d have to get back to work soon. There was enough time for another coffee though keeping the temptation to order food at bay; with a full fridge and if she didn’t get to it she’d get to throw it away. Hard choices. Everything smelled soooo good.

 

“It’s simple self control.”

 

She pushed back but couldn’t budge. “I’m at a booth.” Trudy laughed at herself. “Redefined momentum… positive outlook… outlook… isn’t that a server? Hmm. Adage on. Thinking positively made me… made me… food for thought anyway. Food!”

 

 

 

 

 

The prompt…thinking positively made me…

 

http://juliasplace.org.uk/100wcgu/12699/

 

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups

100wcgu-7

Geniune

Defining Genuine

 

Relaxing, finally, at a genuine bakery with a New York staple – the buttered roll. What took her so long to find this place especially after all the times she’d walk by it over the past two years like she did yesterday no less! (Ok, a string of thoughts in the present, sitting here now.) It said bakery in the name. Thank goodness the light finally clicked on. “All those days pining for something that no other café offered, yet all the while this one did. All their sweet junk, gooey iced scones – blasphemy!” Of course the cappuccino was American size, a small soup bowl that beats a large coffee mug any day, too much milk, but it was good enough not to need sugar sprinkled over the top. “I do like the sugar…” Working her way through froth what Ruth could taste of the coffee wasn’t so bad. It sure wasn’t New York but it’d do.

 

“Take small things when they come around. The time! Better stop writing, got to get to work.”

 

She put the iPad away.