When I was a stay-at-home mom, I used to love making quilts and working on cross-stitch projects. Now, that I am teaching, I have not had the desire to to start a project. With my busy schedule, I doubt I would ever finish what I started. This may change when I retire.
Baking/Cooking
When I was a stay-at-home mom, I loved to bake and cook for my family. Now, that it’s just me and the pups, I rarely cook. And I do not miss it – at all…lol.
Dating
Just one big nope! I love being single. I love the peace and quiet, well other than my yippy pups. I love the freedom and the luxury of coming and going as I please. I have found my happy place.
Nightlife
I still enjoy “my version” of nightlife: dinner with friends, an occasional drink out, or a movie. However, my tastes have changed. I no longer want to go out dancing or visit area bars and listen to local bands which is rather sad. But, times have changed and some establishments are too rowdy for my taste.
When my sweet tooth begins to go into overdrive, I have found a healthier version of my old mainstream candies. Currently, my favorite go to candy is the Atkins Endulge Chocolate Peanut Candies. It satisfies my cravings, and since it is low in sugar, carbs, and calories, I have zero guilt when I indulge now and then. Pure sweetness!
In this crazy non-stop world, I need a break from my life. Honestly, I would like to have just one week of nothing to do…no papers to grade or lessons to plan…no committee meetings, conferences, or staff meetings…no housecleaning or yardwork… just some time outdoors…somewhere on a beach…or a mountain trail among the pines… a place where I can hear the wind and the surf… or watch a distant elk herd as they bugle to one another. When this teacher retires, she needs to find a cabin in the woods. Yep, I believe this woman would enjoy being a hermit for a time.
Grimacing, Taylor brought her hand to her head; it throbbed, and she felt herself sway. How long had she been out? Taking a deep breath, she placed one hand on the bedroom wall and steadied herself while trying to recall a mental checklist in her head.
The woman hurried to finish her packing. Time was not on her side. She stuffed her clothes into her open suitcase, grabbed her jewelry box and the stash of cash she had saved since the last time, and shoved the money deep into her pocket.
As she hurried to the foyer, doubts flooded, but she angrily shoved them aside. Glancing in the hall mirror, she winced. One eye was half closed and swollen as shades of pink and purple marred her puffy face; she ran her fingertips along the angry red welts raised along the base of her throat.
Taylor cynically laughed. “Third time’s the charm,” she said aloud, just before she slammed the door on the life she left behind.
As a woman in my sixties, the way I view the passage of time has evolved. Each significant event or rite of passage provided memorable moments and offered wondrous memories. However, I look forward to a simpler lifestyle as I have slowed down.
Even my thoughts on travel shifted. I wanted to visit various countries and famous faraway cities when I was younger. Now, my take on holidays has presented itself with a different point of view. My idea of the perfect getaway shifted to quiet mountain cabins, redwood forests, trips to wine country, lazy country backwoods, and quiet sandy beaches. In truth, I have always enjoyed the outdoors, and any time I can spend in nature has always been a day well planned. The quiet and the beauty have constantly refreshed my soul. I love the sound of the wind in the trees and birds chirping, calling to one another. I love to watch the careful steps of deer with their graceful movements and spellbinding eyes ever on the watch while taking in their surroundings. Walks along dirt roads or sandy beaches have always been my favorite activities, and now, I have found those are the ways I long to spend my days.
For future holidays, I have longed for the sound of surf and the cry of seagulls as the sun sinks into the ocean. I want to laugh with my girls while enjoying a Chardonnay or an Aromella. I want to trek with my dogs along dusty dirt roads, explore old ghost towns, and witness all my state offers. One more time, I want to stand in a grove of redwoods with my head tilted to the skies while taking in the enormity and grandeur of ancient trees. At this stage of my life, I want to enjoy the simple beauty that nature so graciously has offered.
Time has altered my views, and even now, I look forward to my next mountain retreat. My days will be planned with an early morning coffee and writing on the back patio. I will take an afternoon hike around the lake with my pups in tow. In the evening, I will sit on the porch during the magic hour right before the sun sinks behind the Wet Mountains. In the evening, I will sit beside the fire, listening to an audiobook with my Muttley Crew curled beside me. Before I fall asleep, I will watch the dark skies and glimmering stars peer through the Pondorosas as pinecones fall and dance, their presence echoing on the rooftop. And in my sleep, I will dream of new adventures in my mountain hamlet.
“You do understand this day is about me, right?” My sister snarled after I asked our friend, Samantha, if my makeup looked okay. As her maid of honor, I wanted to look my best, and makeup was not my specialty.
Sam looked up at me with sympathy as she put the finishing touches on Kacy’s upsweep. Our old friend had witnessed my sister’s angry outbursts all week. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed in the knowledge that after today, I could return home to Wyoming and my quiet mountain community, leaving my sister, her anger issues, and the busy Bay Area behind.
This week had been hell; she took all her wedding worries and frustrations out on me. This reminded me of why I moved away from our hometown in the first place. Kacy lived in a world of insecurity; she always doubted herself, and now that Dad had passed, her self-doubt worked overtime, along with her ill-tempered flare-ups.
Stepping back, I apologized for interrupting and watched as she rolled her eyes. I silently reminded myself the wedding would be over soon, and I could make my escape.
“Perfect!” Samantha stated. Kacy stood and twirled in front of the mirror. She looked dazzling in her white off-the-shoulder dress that swept to the floor.
“How do I look? Do you think I will knock his socks off?” My sister questioned.
Gazing at her, I smiled and replied, “I have no doubts.”
Sam handed us our bouquets and snapped pictures before we headed to the clubhouse. Walking along, Kacy grabbed my hand, digging her nails into my skin. My twin angrily whispered, “You almost ruined everything! Everyone adores you! All week, I had to listen to everyone tell me you are just wonderful.”
Before I could pull away and respond, our stepmother appeared at the clubhouse entrance, concern blazoned across her face.
“What’s wrong?” Kacy seethed, her anger steadily increasing.
“Mark is missing,” Andrea softly replied. “And no one knows where he is.”
Frozen to the sidewalk, I watched the two women rush into the charming establishment. Before deciding what to do, I heard a voice behind me. Turning around, I saw Mark in his Jeep. With the window down, he shouted, “Hurry, get in.”
Without thinking, I lifted the hem of my dress and quickly raced to his ride. Climbing in, I sat in stunned silence. Was I really leaving my sister in a lurch, with the bridegroom in tow?
Mark sped off before I could come to my senses. He pointed to the backseat, and I saw the suitcase I packed earlier that morning. He had also grabbed my faded jeans and Northwest College hoodie that I had left unpacked.
“Where to Cinderella?” Mark laughed. “Looks like we both escaped the evil twin just in a nick of time.”
Writing Prompt: For today’s prompt, write a story that takes place that takes place in the aftermath of something huge.
What is flash fiction?
Flash fiction is one of the most fascinating creative mediums in this day and age: incredibly difficult but also incredibly rewarding. After all, flash fiction requires writers to effectively cram a whole narrative into 1,500 words or less.
Darn, those windows! I start out with the best intentions….but sadly…well, now I should just wait until Spring, right?
I hate to admit it, but I am a procrastinator. I need to finish a class for my teacher’s license. It’s easy but boring.
I need to organize my house and remove the things I don’t use anymore.
Most of all, I need to focus on my writing, and I’m trying, but the last bout of health issues and brain fog has created an unwelcome wall. Writing does not come easy these days, and this truth hurts. But I’m trying. I pick up the pieces, find writing challenges, and continue to type. All the while, I pray, the flow returns…soon.
Place a pork roast in a crock pot and cook overnight. In the morning, drain the grease. Add one or two large jars of sauerkraut and add the liquid. Add 6-8 chopped potatoes. Cook on low for eight hours.
This has always been one of my daughter’s favorite meals. The leftovers can be frozen.
For today’s prompt, write a story where the title appears in the story word-for-word.
Breathe just breathe. Walking along the corridor, voices echo, but my heart beats so loudly it drowns out the sounds. “Twelve minutes, you stupid b**tch! ” The guard cruelly whispers.
As we round the corner, the glow from the room illuminates the metal gurney. Father Day silently prays; head bowed. When he looks up our eyes meet, and he smiles and nods. A silent understanding passes between us.
A searing jolt rips, I falter and gasp, “Jokes on you.” Dropping to my knees, I kell over, and lose consciousness, just before my heart pulses, one last time.
“There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: One is roots, the other is wings.” Teaching children values and giving them the opportunity to excel is essential to good parenting. However, I feel I must also provide my children (and myself) insight into the ones who came before us: our ancestors whose lives and stories have shaped us into who we are. This is my journey; these are their stories…
Tales of a Family 