Working Title????

by Beth Alexander Walsh

  I am suffering from writer’s avoidance. In the last week I have opened my laptop and clicked on an offending essay that needs editing five times, only to talk myself into attending to something more important like laundry, and I hate laundry.  So here I am up early on Sunday morning determined to finish editing an essay by noon so I may enjoy the rest of my day off. The following is a synopsis of my writing schedule:

6:45 a.m. Take the dog out and fix a hearty breakfast; fuel for the writing muses!!!

8:00 a.m. After leafing through the Sunday paper and watching two episodes of M*A*S*H, my laptop and I make our way to the living room.

 8:00-8:30 a.m. Work on essay!!!  😊 Change title three times and furiously delete and add sentences. Rearrange paragraph structure. Click “undo” nine times.

8:45 a.m. Light candles in fireplace for ambiance and inspiration.

8:50 a.m. Spend ten minutes on Thesaurus.com looking up words that are not even in my essay.

9:00 a.m. Delete entire paragraph and replace with two sentences.

9:10 a.m. Play with squeaky toy in hopes the dog will come and distract me.

9:11 a.m. Play with dog.

9:30 a.m. Re-read essay three times without losing concentration.

9:40 a.m. Facebook ☹

10:10 a.m. Stare vacantly at candles in fireplace.

10:20 a.m. Start grocery list.

10:23 a.m. Remove dog hair on couch with lint roller.

10:30 a.m. Add Bailey’s to coffee.

10:32 a.m. Decide to put pen to paper to get creative juices flowing.

10:35 a.m. Draw pictures of sun and moon and stars.

10:40 a.m. Wrap dog in blanket and take pictures with iPhone

10:44 a.m. Google “writers block”

11:10 a.m. Decide essay sucks and put in file of misfit writing.

“After all tomorrow is another day.” Scarlett O’Hara

What to Have for Dinner?

by Gail Balentine

           

            There you are, at your local grocery store, in the middle of the vegetable aisle, frowning. You are trying to decide what to have for dinner. You have no clue. Eat healthy? Eat out? Have a bowl of cereal?

            Sometimes there is just no inspiration. Nothing appeals. You leave that aisle and head toward the chicken, fish, and meat section. Surely something there will spark your imagination. What about all those new recipes you carefully cut out of those cooking magazines or newspapers and tuck into your recipe book? Yes, you tell yourself, one of those might work except they’re at home and you’re here, getting more frustrated by the minute.

            This is a ridiculous, you tell yourself. You are, surrounded by an overabundance of food, and you can’t come up with a plan! You look over and see a woman with a full shopping cart – lots of produce, chicken, beef. Maybe you could ask her for a suggestion? You summon up your courage to approach – just as her cell phone rings.

            She answers the call and immediately says, “No, it’s a fine time. I’m at the grocery store, trying to decide what to have for dinner but nothing is appealing. I’ve bought a ton of food, hoping I’ll figure it out by the time I get home.” She pauses, laughs, and then says, “Sure, let’s get pizza. Be home soon.”

            You sigh and keep walking. On to the dairy department. No help there. You look down at your cart – still empty. At this point, feeling stupid, you put the cart back and head for the exit. Maybe pizza tonight would be good, you think. When you get to the car, you try to remember if you’ve ever gone to the grocery store before and not bought anything. Nope, can’t remember ever doing that. Great, you tell yourself, what a milestone.

            As you start driving, your phone rings. It’s your daughter. “Hey, Mom, how’s it going? I was wondering if you and Dad would like to come over for dinner? I made a huge spaghetti sauce with meatballs. It smells great and …”

            “Spaghetti and meatballs! How did you know that was exactly what I wanted for dinner tonight? Of course we’ll come! What can I bring?”

            Most likely there is some deep psychological reason why, when faced with many choices, your mind freezes and can’t decide. You don’t know, but what you do know is that you made a U-turn and went back to the grocery store. And now, there you are, in the middle of the vegetable aisle, smiling, buying salad fixings as your contribution toward dinner, knowing just what you will have tonight.

*****

Love is Stronger than Death

Come home to me.
I am you and we are we--
Come home to me.
We are we and we are thee--
Come home to me.
Without you, whom will I be?



--Liz Ciampa, 2013.

 

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

by Lauraine Alberetti Lombara

She heard the drumbeat of the rain, heavier than the light touch of a soft downpour against the window as she lay in bed; comforting covers warming her body, while her leg muscles twitched in spasm. The train to Boston passed by, muffling the intensity of the rain as it clanked over the rails.

She thought she should be out with her friends right now, having a good time since the hour was not late, but she was too content to stay indoors, dry and safe.  Tomorrow should be clear, sunny and warmer, she remembered hearing on the TV earlier in the evening.

"Oh, save me from becoming the person who can only assess the reality of the day by comparing it with the outcome of the weather forecasters", she mused.

So as not to deal with the overwhelming angst of the world- politics, war, other fears dwelling on the insignificant was appealing. Thoughts about the mundane-leg cramps, raindrops, weather reports-clouded her mind as slipped into sleep.

She would awaken to a new day, just as she had heard in the song from "Annie", "The sun will come out tomorrow..."